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Post by AngelicTragedy on Feb 6, 2016 1:17:31 GMT -5
Valon stood in stoic silence as the body of a teenage noble boy was laid out on a slab of aromatic wood. This was the third noble funeral that Valon was forced to attend in the past two months and each wore on him heavier than the last. The boy being remembered here was named Tris, a promising soldier and commander, and the assembled family mourned bitterly next to his pyre. Valon kept himself and his host at a respectful distance as to give the loved ones room to grieve as they would. When the time came Valon would step forward and do what little he could for the stricken family but until then he chose to remain near the outskirts. "Theren, what can you tell me about this one? How did the boy die?" Valon intoned to a striking older Aldra-Sa on his right. The man dripped with finery and moved with a noble grace that spoke to his position as Valons prime advisor. Theren Vanlith looked cast for this high position in flowing crimson robes patterned with feathers woven in golden thread. A thick chain of golden of interlinking dragon talons hung heavy from his shoulders, a token given to his by Valon as a symbol of his office. Theren turned slightly to the side to face Valon better and leaned in as if to speak softly. "Tris Bentha is the second son of Jhan and Sinda, a loyal child and one bound for command it would have seemed. He had an infectious personality and there was no one who could speak ill of him. He was found yesterday morning in an alleyway near the barracks in the merchant district. The wounds would suggest that the same blade used on the other two was used here as well. Nearly a hundred deep stabs to the chest killed the boy, but he seemed to have been hit in the back of the head before being killed. I've tripled the guard patrols of the royal district and doubled them in the merchant district but our guards are spread thin as it is." Therens words were measured and even, as they always were, and Valon silently thanked Aou'n for his ability to keep composed in such highly taxing times. "Summon the First Legion and station them in the merchant district. Summon the Second Legion and bolster the rest of the city guard. I've already sent word to the Third Legion to take up the job of patrolling the royal district and the Fourth should have already taken up their place around the palace. I can't take any risks now that Sabriel is nearing her official coronation as heir. Opilia doesn't like the tension the Legions presence will cause among the city but I refuse to sit back and do nothing." "I agree my lord, but I think four Legions being summoned to the foot of the Emerald Arch will achieve your goals as well as you would like. If we were to bring in the Second to strengthen the city guard that would be enough. We leave the other Legions at the ready but keep them out of the city walls. There is no reason to cause undue panic among the commons, especially now that Princess Sabriel is nearing her debut to the world." "Perhaps you're right. See to the arrangements Theren, I'll give your condolences to the family." "As you command Highlord. I shall join you this evening in your study." Theren bowed deeply and backed up for five steps before turning sharply on his heels on the cobblestone and strode away, a small grouping of armored guards with spears fell into step with him. Valon focused back on the ceremony unfolding around the pyre. Fragrant oils were poured over Tris and fires were lit at each corner of the slab. Flames soon overtook the boys body and the crackle of the flames overtook the wails of the gathered mourners. Valon stepped towards the pyre and drew a small pouch from hidden pocket in his plum colored tunic. With a practiced movement Valon cast the contents of the bag across the flames and in a flash the orange glow turned vibrant green. "May Aou'n give you peace child. I vow that your killer will be found and brought to justice." *~*~*~*~*~*~* The sun had set before Valon and his personal guard returned to the palace through the massive Emerald Arch. Once inside the gates Valon dismissed his armored tail but two kept pace with him. A man and woman, one in dawn colored armor and the other in twilight, flanked his every movement in disciplined silence. Vax and Vex were tasked to remain with Valon at all times while in Drakengrad and they took their job very seriously, much to Valons chagrin. It was the traditional role of the Knights of Dawn and Dusk to guard the king but Valon hardly needed guarding. Several times he had said something to that effect with only a sigh in response from Vex and a chuckle from Vax. The twins hardly spoke and Valon wasn't sure when the last time he'd heard a full sentence from either of them. The trio ascended a massive marble stairway past several levels of living and meeting space towards a gold-banded door. Vex and Vax took their places on either side and Valon entered the darkened chamber beyond. In the deep shadows Valons footsteps echoed like thunder off the marble flooring before giving way to a muffled hiss on a soft carpet. A tiny door opened on the far side of the room and an older Aldra-Sa woman entered the darkness with a small oil lantern. She silently bowed deeply to the King of Dragons and began to light a fire in a hearth as large as most common living spaces. Once the huge fireplace was crackling merrily the older woman began lighting candles around the room. Valon stood looking at the flames unable to shake the feeling that they were far too similar to Tris' funeral pyre. Only once the small woman had taken her leave did Valon allow himself to let out a deep breath and let his shoulders slump. His people were being killed and he couldn't seem to bring the culprit to justice as quickly as he wished. Powerless wasn't something that Valon felt often but now he felt that he had no power at all. He slipped into his high backed chair at the massive wooden table that took up a quarter of the room and allowed his mind to settle for a moment before reaching up to grab a goblet and pour himself some dark wine. "My lord, may I enter?" A deep, gravely voice called from the doorway just before a massive Draken in shining plate armor entered the study. Valon waved the copper scaled male into the room and motioned for him to take a seat near his own. General Edos clattered his way towards the chair and sat himself on the seat as best he could in his restricting armor. Valon poured some wine for his guest and placed it before him before taking a long swallow of the sweet, earthy liquid. "Edos, I'd hoped it would be you and not Theren. I need some counsel from someone who isn't afraid to tell me the truth. Theren means well but he's a bootlicker." Valon stated bluntly before taking another drink. "I sent Theren away an hour ago. He was stalking the entrance hall for nearly two hours before I'd had enough." Edos coughed out a harsh laugh before sipping the wine and pushing the goblet away. "I'm worried Edos. I'm worried that these noble murders aren't the work of some kind of rebel faction trying to shake my rule." Valon spat, his frustration barely contained, and took another long drag of wine before refilling his goblet. ""I don't think that I follow my lord. Who is it that would do this?" "The nobles, Edos, I'm afraid that it's one of the noble class," Valon finished the second goblet quickly and then poured for himself again. "Who else would be able to bypass all the damned patrols that we've set up without a second glance? Who could command the people in this damned city not to see anything than one of them?" "My lord, I know you're not quite the most popular king in our long history but don't you think you're grasping at straws?" Edos recoiled as if he'd been struck by the strength of Valons suspicions. "Cut the 'my lord' shit with me Edos. Behind closed doors you are to call me Valon, you know that, and you know that I’m not grasping at straws here. You personally saw the response to my anointment of Marius to Lord Commander of the Fourth. I had a field of 20 nobleborn rookies and found a born commander among the commonfolk who had the chops to take on the role and I'm not a fit ruler for it. I care for my damn people and that's not good enough for them! I know the names of nearly everyone in this city, my damn city, and the fact that I won't only dine with nobility makes me a poor king! Damn them!" Valon screamed and pounded his wine once before smashing the glass against the wall. Edos rose from his seat, grabbing the pitcher of wine from the table, and stalked across the room towards the fire. A quick flick of his wrist sent the liquid and it's container into the fire causing a fierce hissing to sing out into the study. Edos sauntered back towards the table to grab his own goblet, saying a small prayer, and gulped it down. He lightly placed the goblet down and slapped Valon squarely across the face with a force that would break a normal man's jaw. Valon sprang to his feet his aura bursting to life to cast a purple glow along the wall behind him and squared off with the much larger Draken. "This is not how my king behaves and I refuse to listen to you throw a wine fueled tantrum. Is this going to solve anything? You're better than this Valon. That's something that I would expect from you as a child. You're a man now, a father, a king. Take responsibility for your choices! Quit your whining and act like the man that I know you are!" Edos roared straight into Valons mask of fury. "General, you know I could have you killed for striking me." Valons whisper dripped in venom and frustration, but quickly dipped off. "Yes, I do Highlord, but you're not going to have me killed. You don't even kill me yourself. I know you my king, I know you." "You're right Edos, you do know me. You also know what I need when I don't. I'd be a poorer king without you," Valon raised a hand to his jaw and began to knuckle at the discolored splotch on his face. "I'm sorry, my friend, it's just that these deaths have weighed heavily on my heart>" "And that's why you are a true king. You care about your people far more than most of our past kings. Now let's get back to the discussion at hand." "Very well," Valon sat. "As I was getting to before I forgot myself, I need to probe the nobility, but my hands are tied or else I alienate them even further. Even if I find out that all of them are innocent, I won't feel right until I at least know. I sent out a few teleportation scrolls to a few chosen powers. I'm going to plead my case to them and ask that they try to fine a motive for murder among my nobles at Sabriels coronation." "My lord, do you think that's wise?" Edos sat back down in mild shock at Valons plan, his plate armor clanging. "We really don't have much more of an option. The scrolls will go active at dawn our time. The gates will open just outside the walls in the scrub forest. Please see to it that an envoy and escort is waiting near the trees." "As you command. Please get some sleep Valon." "I will General, good night," General Edos stood and raised a fist over his heart before taking his leave. Valon sat for a while longer listening to the snap of the fire with his thoughts. Finally he rose, to find his head swimming slightly, and found that it was nearly midnight. Valon strolled out the door of his study, Vex and Vax fell into step behind him, and down a flight of stairs before going up another. He pushed through doors as the twins took their places and began disrobing. Valon, now clad only in a pair of loose linen pants, slipped through another door into his bed chamber. Opilia lay on one side of the mattress beneath a silk sheet. Valon smiled and slid into the bed next to his wife. Opilia stirred, looking up at Valon with her hued green eyes, as he slid an arm around her and kissed her forehead. "Sleep darling, we'll talk in the morning," Valon whispered and the pair drifted off to sleep. OOC- As you join the topic you'll be walking though an emerald colored portal into a lush jungle clearing with various unknown fruits you are free to create. You'll get met by an escort in my next post.
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Post by Loogs on Feb 10, 2016 1:00:15 GMT -5
OOC: there's some information that you and I have to sort out, mostly simple things like "where is Drakengrad" and "where the hell in the world is Drakengrad", that might result in me tweaking this post a little, but here goes. “It seems there is an urgent matter I must attend to, Hina.” As soon as he finished reading the message on the scroll, Davra Surhamgiak Nadeshi Maëltios, reigning King of Kalar, a soft-spoken monarch known for his grace under pressure, and known to his people as Nadeshi V, began clothing himself in his black-and-gold regal attire, the attire preferred by him for diplomatic concerns. Hinankja Hanagala, the head advisor to the Kalari throne, approached Nadeshi as he stood at the balcony of his bedroom. “What is the matter, my liege?” She was a intelligent, dignified looking woman who commanded respect from anyone beneath her rank and sometimes even those above it, clad in emerald green robes with a yellow sash around her waist embroidered to indicate her rank in the Kalari Royal Court. “I have received a message from King Valon about a recent occurrence of nobles in the Drakengrad Royal Court being murdered.” Nadeshi turned to Hinankja with a grave look on his face, the slit pupils of his striking jade eyes constricting. “It behooves us to look into this matter at once.” Only the subtle flaring of her nostrils broke Hinankja’s stony demeanor. “My lord, is it the Princess you are so worried for?” “Exactly. A danger present among the Drakengrad Royal Court means a threat to the life of Opilia. If she were to be assassinated… it could prove disastrous to our diplomatic relations with Drakengrad, not to mention the ruin it will bring to the public image of Drakengrad among the Kalari people.” Nadeshi turned around again to face the luscious gardens of the palace, hands behind his back, his dark violet braids swaying in the gentle breeze. “And… the child. I cannot allow any harm to befall either of them.” “You are leaving at once, my liege?” “Naturally. The scroll contains a teleportation spell, which should take me to the rendezvous location. Do start coming up with a discreet proclamation to feed to everyone while I’m gone, yes, Hinankja? No need for a mass panic at this stage in the game.” Nadeshi flashed her a demure smile. Hinankja placed her right arm across her chest and bowed. “At your command, your majesty.” “You have my eternal gratitude, Hina. Be safe.” Nadeshi activated the spell imbued in the scroll. It hovered in the air, conjuring a green portal expanded to accommodate the king. “Godspeed, your majesty.” Hinankja bowed one final time before he disappeared into the gate, the portal shrinking to a close behind him. yo reintroducing a character is hard
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Post by Tout-Perd on Mar 23, 2016 17:39:28 GMT -5
A jade-hued aperture appeared in mid-air, barely the size of a tire and even with the canopies of the luscious tropical trees. A silvery-blue blur shot through, trailing the light behind it in a verdant stream. It swooped towards the grass, stopping inches above the earth. The blades parted, smashed flat by its wake. The contrail of mystic energy shattered, scattering luminous green flecks like a glowing dew.
“Hm, Drakengrad. I’d say it’s been too long, but I’d had quite enough so many years ago. Absolutely no animus revertendi on my part,” A minuscule figure in a perfectly tailored suit stepped onto one of the bowed blades of grass without bending it any further. Her meager hips were exaggerated by a plastic oval on each, worn belted in place like armor. A pair of sturdy, yet diaphanous wings stood rigidly poised over her shoulders, trembling ever so slightly. Between her wings, the newcomer had slung a navy blue silk tie, worn in reverse like a cape that dangled well past her feet.
“Nonetheless, Akamai Lorsha came to my aid in times past, and it’s only fair that I do the same for his descendant, in omnibus.”
She shielded her eyes and looked up towards the sun, gauging the time.
“Good, five minutes early, as is only proper practice. The others should be arriving shortly.”
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Post by AngelicTragedy on Apr 2, 2016 22:33:39 GMT -5
Sunlight crested the horizon painting the mountainous forest in shades of gold and green. A brisk breeze snapped through the sycamore fig trees and scrub brush causing a slight whistle to sing into the moist dawn air. An audible pop shattered the quiet of the clearing as several tall emerald doorways opened around the edges of the gap of trees. Hints of what existed beyond were visible through the enchanting green light; some doors showed living spaces, others showed nature scenes, and still others were so vague that what lay beyond was a mystery. Through one door stepped a violet haired man clad in black and gold while the figure of a diminutive humanoid became visible in the emerald light. Each looked about, trying to gauge their location in the brilliant sun as a group of figures stepped into the clearing between the portals. "Good morning! On behalf of the Highlord, we welcome you to Drakengrad," a female called out from one side of the circle. She stepped into the light of the portals and stood smiling at the guests before her as a pair of males flanked her with far less enthusiasm. Each was clad in fitted silver armor and black leathers picked out in vibrant emerald stitching depicting flames. Half helms rested on their heads with a drape of mail rolling off the pack, each was crowned with crest of emerald hair running from front to back in a mohawk. The other figures around the ring were clad exactly the same sans the helmet crest and held tall, long bladed spears. "Allow me to make the introductions. I am Sinda Solidad, newly appointed captain of the Highlord's palace guard," Sinda tugged a gilded golden sash back into place around her chest revealing the hilt of a wickedly curved sword on her hip. "My lieutenants, Dayth and Zahn, aren't quite comfortable speaking in the presence of nobility so I will be your main contact and liaison during your stay. If you require anything do not hesitate to ask. Now, if all is in order, the Highlord is awaiting your arrival." Sinda turned on her heels and passed between the portals once again, Dayth and Zahn waited for Nadeshi and the spritely humanoid to follow and then fell into step behind them. The other guards held their positions awaiting other guests. As the group wound their way through the forest the distant walls of the capital city of Drakengrad came into view. Massive towers of fused stone and bright metal thrust up from the earth as stout walls connected them forming an impressive shield for the pillars and turrets beyond. The city was built on what was one the peak of a mountain that had long ago been leveled for the seat of the great Aldra-Sa empire. Everywhere one looked the proud green claw of House Lorsha snapped on ebony banners in the morning air. "Welcome to Sonas Drakan, the seat of Valon Lorsha." Sinda led the pair of guests towards a waiting caravan of armored riders mounted on what appeared to be dragon and horse hybrids, proud scaled snouts pointed skyward and three toed claws cut ruts in the dirt path on which they waited. In the middle of the honor guard waited a large wingless dragon-like creature with a open topped carriage strapped to its back. Each of the creatures bore black and green dressings and each rider wore a tall pole on their back carrying the banner of House Lorsha. Even though she'd ridden to the forest with the honor guard Sinda couldn't help but be awed by the impressive appearance it gave. "If you'd please take a seat in the carriage we will depart shortly." Dayth and Zahn helped Nadeshi and the tiny winged woman up onto the great beast back and Sinda joined them. With a short whistle the train of riders began towards the silver gates of Sonas Drakan. As the precision neared the walls horns sounded and the massive gates opened wide to allow access. They traveled between buildings of fused stone and marble, past a large man-made lake with a waterfall that dropped off the mountain, and a titanic wood and steel crane that was busy lifting crates from the docks the rested far below. Every face turned to look on as the riders stormed by, some with faces full of wonder and others with worry. As the band passed through an outdoor market, the air smelling of spices and cooking meats, a pair of massive dragon wings rose from the ground and touched at the tips forming an arch. The wings were crafted in immense detail from what appeared to be carved from a single piece of emerald. The group came to rest before the arch and the sprawling palace beyond it. Gilded roofs and polished marble walls shone in the morning sun. "Beyond the Emerald Arch lies the Sheru Drakan, the high seat of Drakengrad and home of Valon Lorsha," the amount of pride in Sinda's voice was nearly overwhelming. The honor guard dismounted and formed a pair of lines up the steps towards the palace, their spears formed a tunnel of sorts in a very militaristic sort of welcome. Sinda, Dayth, and Zahn motioned for their two guest to follow and began up the steps into the now opening gateway before them. Just beyond the first gate stood another set of honor guards standing at attention in a lush garden that was so overflowing with flowers that the scent was almost overpowering. Just past the garden ran a stream of crystal clear water that bubbled happily as the group passed over it on a bridge crafted from dark wood and silver. Another gate opened before them and the palace proper lay within. The entrance hall had massive vaulted ceilings coated in gold and pieces of art depicting events in Drakengrad history. At the far end of the hall a forked staircase flanked a dark wooden pair of doors guarded by a pair of figures in armor far different than that worn by the honor guard. A man and woman stood at rigid attention on either side of the doors. The man wore brass colored plate and black leathers with accent cloth of goldenrod yellow. His face was hidden behind a great helm crowned with a long yellow braid and engraved with lightning bolts. The woman wore armor styled exactly the same as her male companion but in shades of white and ice blue. Her helm bore a pale blue braid and snowflakes swirled along its metal. Each bore a polearm tipped with a kris-like blade and long daggar on their hip. As the group approached they caught sight of secondary weapons on the backs of each guard; the man wore a multiple tongued whip and the woman carried a lance that was painted to resemble an icicle. "Amir Honzo, Amirah Senna, I come with two honored guests of the Highlord. Please allow them passage." Sinda dropped into a deep bow and averted her eyes. The man and woman, Honzo and Senna, looked at one another through tight eye slits and nodded as one. With well practiced motions the pair stepped in and opened the doors to allow the guest to enter the chamber beyond. Sinda remained in her bow and motioned with her arms for Nadeshi and the tiny woman to enter. Once they had crossed the threshold the doors were closed again quickly. Just beyond the doorway stood the ever present Vex and Vax mirroring Honzo and Senna's position outside and farther in the room at a long table sat another group of people. At the center of the rabble sat Valon, bags under his eyes and a frown marring his face, in a majestic jerkin and cloak of black silk embroidered along the seems in silver thread with patterns of draconic images. On his right sat Opilia with an equally agitated expression on her face. Opilia absently picked at a loose thread in the golden embroidery of her stunning jade colored gown. Besides the royal couple Theren Vanlith hovered at the kings left hand in his usual red robes, a younger Aldra-Sa woman dressed in orange, and a pair of middle aged Aldra-Sa women in earth tone cloth. The group seemed to be running various pieces of paper before Valon and rapidly firing questions at their lord. From across the room came a deep cough and General Edos rose from his nearly hidden place at the end of the table. "Highlord, it would appear that the first of your guests have arrived." "Wonderful! Please come in and make yourselves comfortable!" Valon motioned to the seats before him before turning to the officials around him. "We'll continue this later, you are dismissed." Theren bristled a bit and cast a glance at the odd couple before the table. The three women turned to look at the guests with warm smiles before gathering up their papers and looking to Theren to join them. A moment passed with no movement before Theren bowed to Valon and began out of the guarded passage followed closely by the three women. Once the doors hand once again been closed Valon visibly deflated and placed his hand on Opilia's. The queen took note of the pair before them before rising from her chair and strolling around the table towards her brother. "Brother, it's been far too long!" Opilia grabbed Nadeshi in a tight hug before softly pushing him into the seat across from her own and returning to her own. "I'm glad that you came on such short notice, the both of you. It's not often that a crisis effects our kingdom in such a way. We were just about to have some breakfast if you'd both be so kind as to join us. Sabriel, come say hello to your uncle." Valon called across the room towards Edos. A jade green form shot up from a small table near the towering Draken and shot towards the visiting king to tackle his legs in a pint sized bear hug. Once the girl had stopped moving her form became more clear. Straight black hair fell to her shoulders and danced with her every movement. A length of lavender hair fell over her right eye and played among the rest of her dark mane. Her jade dress swirled and sparkled as she moved her face to look up at her uncle. Bright green eyes shone with glee. Sabriel had been born with her mother's eyes, whereas most people had white in their eyes Sabriel had a mint green instead, making her eyes look larger than they actually were. "Uncle Nadey! I missed you!" The girl sang as she continued to bounce on his feet. "Nadeshi, she's been asking when you were coming to visit for the past six months. You should visit more, for her and for me," Opilia chided. "Yes, you know you're always welcome here," Valon stated before turning his attention to the spritely woman before him. "I thank you for coming my lady, but I don't believe that we've met."
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Post by Tout-Perd on Apr 10, 2016 22:52:52 GMT -5
The fae delicately perched on the ball at the end of one of the flagpoles. A truck, she believed it was called? Funny how a single word could have such a variety of meanings in the tongue of humans. She concealed a brief pout behind the sleeve of her suit. Such slippery language made social maneuvering and subterfuge almost insultingly easy, but still... That was the game she played, after all.
All the pomp and circumstance flowed beneath her like an underground river, present only as a distant rumble. She knew this court, its rituals, that same slow, stilted dance that played out where ever courtiers could kowtow to those in power. Drakengrad was nothing new; she’d spent more time here than anywhere else, bar the Fae courts back in her homeland. She put on her best lawyer-face. The terms of her prior visit had been... Less than optimal, by a far stretch. Yet still, getting her name out there on a massive case like this would both nullify an outstanding debt while simultaneously advancing her station, and could she really ask for anything more than that?
It was then that the liege addressed her, his voice powerful, deep, and inexorable, like it rose from the earth itself. That was the voice of a man who could speak, and have dragons bow in subservience.
The faerie pitched forwards, bracing her feet against the ball of the flagpole like a swimmer kicking off the side of a pool. Her wings flitted into action, a papery buzzing only barely audible over the murmurs and bustle of palace life. She swooped low to the floor, trailing motes of silver in her wake, and swept upwards. With the sort of alacrity only seen in the most minute of creatures, she came to a perfect stop in front of the Lord of Dragons, deliberately keeping her altitude lower than his chin. Presentation, presentation, presentation. The big folk already had a hard time taking her people seriously, and to make them have to crane their necks only exacerbated the issue. Making them look down just the slightest bit both subconsciously stroked their ego, and provided the best auditory compromise between the fey’s acute hearing and humanity’s... Much less intricate or subtle communication. She took hold of her tie, and flipped it around so that it dangled before her, fluttering in the breeze like some sort of inverted cape.
“Greetings, Lord Lorsha, slayer of demons, savior of nations, champion of Drakengrad. I am Bebeodan Thistledown, Attorney at Law-” She paused for a polite curtsy, emphasizing her namesake shock of vibrant hair, “Of Thistledown and Associates, honored to make the acquaintance. Naturally, for simplicity’s sake, you may simply refer to me as Bebe.”
Though fey didn’t like to mar their names by cutting them short, accommodation had to be made for the sake of unwieldy mortal tongues. Of course, this concession was made largely to move the conversation past the subject of her law firm. Presently, “And Associates” was a blanket term covering two temporary staffers she’d hired for a few hours a week, largely to keep her office in Greffant Village presentable.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, another familiar motion to the fey. Just like the myopic view of mortals to question somebody’s competence just because they weren’t as lumbering and oafish.
“To clarify something before we get started, I graduated magna cum laude with a Master’s Degree in Law from Paymarble University, and passed my boards in Salcester. And according to the precedent set by the ruling of the Archipelago Supreme Court in Halfield v. Monmorency, any individual who can successfully get a law degree and get board certified is then able to practice law within the Archipelago, regardless of their humanity of lack thereof,” She shot a defiant look around the room, her fuchsia eyes almost glowing, “In fact, one of my peers is an intelligent shade of the color lavender. He specializes in divorce proceedings.”
“Furthermore, according to the Galetski Accord that you ratified with Raiixia in 2014, Drakengrad honors all legal degrees and certifications passed in Raiixia, the Kamineko Islands, and the Archipelago. Ergo, I am currently certified to practice law here, just as much as any native,” The flutter of her wings took on an aggressive buzz, like a particularly large hornet on the attack.
“And finally, I spent a term of over two hundred years in Drakengrad as a legal scribe for your court system, press-ganged into servitude by Boros Lorsha-” Bebeodan decided it was in good taste to omit the ‘may jackals feast upon his rotting bones’ she compulsively tacked on as a well-deserved honorific in any other situation, “And then liberated by your grandfather, Akamai. There is literally nobody else alive today who has as much experience with your legal system as I do.”
It was then that her eyes began to glow, the pinkish light diffusing out into her hair and wings.
“In summation, I am the single most qualified being on this planet to help handle this crisis.”
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 11, 2016 17:53:00 GMT -5
If she could have swept them all at a stroke from the cobblestones and into the harbour, she would have, only for ruining the music – this new percussion wing the Highlord had seen fit to install in her district. The plodding footfall and clanking iron of the First Legion encroached everywhere on the harbour's natural melody of lapping water and rasping wood, the merchant's call and the sailor's horn and the seagull's cry. There was too strict a meter in the sound of soldiers as they marched their black and copper line from dock to dock and stall to stall, inspecting the cargo, questioning the wares, fixing their appraising eyes on every fisher who lingered too long or wore the wrong look. Mother had sighed and rubbed her brow when the Highlord's edict had come down, entreating her to set a guild of wrights to the task of cleaning and refitting every one of the kingdom's warships, from the grandest carracks dressed in their violet sails to the humblest cogs she could haul from the corners of the royal boathouses. As to what threat precisely the Highlord imagined closing in over the sea, perhaps Mother could guess, but Isara Leral allowed she could not. If she was certain of one thing, it was only that the Highlord would seize any excuse he could to muffle the harbour's song still further with the cymbal crash of cannon. The familiar silver bells chimed overhead as she pushed open the door into Gladdig's fish-house. The monger was too particular about his meats to carry on his business in the open air, and it was known that inner-city dwellers out for a day on the front would hurry on past his shop, fearing to be laid flat by the smell that escaped every time those bells rang. Those of the harbour, though, who knew the sea and its gifts as no courtly retainer could, swore up and down that monger Gladdig's fish-house offered the most savory meat anywhere on the waters. In a way, Isara loved the stench; loved, too, the glittering quilt of scales over every table, briefly sparkling in the morning light from the door she held open. The heavyset man with the ornate mustache, two rings jingling in each ear, though engaged with another customer, was quick to greet her upon her arrival. "Lady Isara – a pleasure that you visit my little house." "A pleasure to see you, sir. You've enjoyed a rich haul the past weeks," she replied, gazing around the walls, where the smaller sharks hung from hooks. Then, pointing to a rack of vivid orange salmon flesh, she added, "The carp is especially fine." And, catching her eye, he gave the expected response: "There's finer in the back chamber, if you should please." Isara nodded, and the fat man motioned for his wife Wenn to take over duties at the board. Then she followed him around the corner and down a half-flight into the vault beyond, a cooled room of stone lit only by candles and filled with salt barrels. She closed the door behind them. "To the bottom with those soldiers," Gladdig grumbled at once. The smile beneath his mustache had disappeared. "They've driven down trade all along the front. He couldn't expect that the people should lack to notice! They keep to their homes for fear they tread the wrong path and land in a prison cell. The First Legion never earned the repute of mildness." He frowned at her. "Couldn't your mother...?" "I hardly think I need to say it, Gladdig, but House Leral speaks no word in the dispatch of soldiers." Isara folded her arms. "We can be sure the Highlord won't withdraw his guard until some months after he deems any danger is passed. And won't you and I play a part in that? What have you heard?" The monger rested his elbows on a barrel. Silence, but for the drip of water on rock, held a few seconds. "The name of House Avrae, more than anything else," he said. She tensed at that, then chided herself: it was no less than she should have expected, and in honesty the name was one she'd pondered as well, of late. In the shadows she hoped that the brief change over her features went unnoticed. "The common slander, I'll take it? A plot to creep in and steal the throne from beneath the Highlord's rump? Oh if Balasar and his misty band had levied a tenth as many treasonous schemes as I've heard ascribed them, they could only be the most pitiful traitors in history." But Gladdig shook his great head, sending the rings to clamor anew. "The very opposite, lady. It's said that House Avrae are forgetting their place and carrying out murders undecreed, not against the crown, but rather against those who they imagine would threaten it." Isara blinked. "Tris Bentha?" "A good youth, and kind to all, as I'll tell you myself, lady, if you hadn't the chance to meet him. But there are those who question Sinda and Jhan Bentha's fealty—" "If House Avrae believed they were undertaking this task as a boon to the kingdom, they would've made it known to the Highlord," she protested, crunching salt underfoot with a step closer. "It does them no more good than the rest of us that he should throw the city into a panic." Gladdig shrugged his beefy shoulders. "That's so – unless there's a name further down Balasar's list that he already knows he could never persuade Lord Valon to condemn to death..." * * * On her way out of the fish-house, back into the salt air amid the tents and barrows, and consigning herself once again to the patrol's endless clamor, the patter of another pair of feet followed her over the stones. She turned to see a child of sun-bronzed skin, dressed in the familiar bleached cloth of the harbour urchins. He held something out to her. "Beautiful lady," he piped, "a gift for my lady of the sea, I carved it for you myself..." It was a whittled wood model of a fish. The texture was appropriately rough and bumpy, but the grooves on the fins were a sight too well-hewn for a boy of not even ten. Someone had taken too much liberty with this. Still, she accepted it, and favored him with a smile. "Thank you, my sweet thing." He bowed knock-kneed to her, and she walked on. After passing another company of soldiers, she swept gently into an undisturbed alley with nothing but a few unused clotheslines dangling overhead, and tipped the fish forward to let the scroll of paper drop out of its mouth and into her palm. ROSEHILL MARKET. TEN O'CLOCK.The scroll was marked with a pair of crossed lines, and a scribble curling around the both of them, evoking in a few strokes the intertwined daggers and chain of House Avrae. Isara strode from the alley and walked along the water's edge, moving toward the newest ship to land anchor. As she walked, the paper slipped from her grasp and rode a sudden breeze, and she watched it dissolve on the black water below. The fish she gave in passing to the daughter of a family of traders, as a toy. * * * The Redcurrant had already laid bridge by the time she reached its dock, and sinewy sailors were hauling crates and casks off the handsome caravel. The sails were a deep blue, and bore the pattern of a silver moon and a cresting wave; it was the standard that announced this ship to be under the protection of House Leral. The captain, a hard-lined woman of grey-brown hair and some fifty years in a great longcoat, stood at the bow and directed them, but when she spied Isara approaching, she called the first mate to her post and trod, with a slight limp, over the planks to shore. Magden Mitroch greeted her with a hearty "Ho, my lady!" "Welcome back, captain." Isara clapped the older woman's shoulders. "A fair journey?" "Not one wind out of place," Mitroch proclaimed. "And a proper haul from the Archipelago too, I can tell you, good oranges and peaches and mangos – enough for five coronations! We've made it on time, I hope, or did he name an earlier...?" "No, you're in good time, Sabriel hasn't yet taken crown." "Then they'll feast well." The captain squinted up and down the waterfront, ringed overhead by yawping seagulls, and heaved a sigh. "Truth be told, lady, I may well sleep through the whole of it, but just you tell them 'round the table it was Magden Mitroch sailed the blue in double time to see that peach pie onto their plates, will you?" "As to the feasting and all," Isara spoke in a measured tone, "I might ask about your other cargo." "Oh, she's all right. She'll be up and about deck presently, I'm sure." Isara fished a small pouch of silver from the folds of her dress. This she offered to the older woman. "From Lady Kallista," she said, "for your trouble..." But Mitroch threw back her head and laughed at this. "Not my trouble, it was the girl's trouble, wasn't it!" she cried. "I had the cabin to spare and no mind of a passenger, least of all one keeps to herself. But the poor lass doesn't belong on the sea, I fear. She'll tell you much the same." Seemingly on a second thought, she accepted the pouch. "I'll see a share of it goes to Selbert," she went on, still chuckling. "It was him had to clean up after the girl lost her stomach on the second day out. "Funny thing," she added, after dropping the pouch into a pocket of her coat. "Here he was with the mop and bucket, and didn't she keep telling him it was all right, it was all right, she'd clean it up herself. Only she wasn't asking him for the mop, she just kept flipping through this little book of hers, saying she could do it. As if she wanted instructions for wiping her own sick off a wooden floor!" Mitroch shook her head. "A strange girl, lady." Isara only gestured behind them to the gleaming copper trim in the armor of the First Legion still stomping their discordant tune on the cobblestones. "It's a strange port she's washed up on, stranger than you left it, Mag, as you'll see." Then she saw the cargo. A girl of perhaps twenty, with a thick mop of black, curly hair, clad in a thick woollen cinnamon-colored sweater, was hoisting her bag along the bridge from the Redcurrant to shore. She did look a touch sickly, to be sure. Halfway along the bridge she gave a stagger and Isara foresaw her dropping the overstuffed bag into the bay, but the girl managed her way to the other side, luggage and all, and stood regarding the waterfront's long line of shops and stations with fatigued awe. "Esther Damrosch," Isara announced with a polite smile and arms spread wide, "on behalf of the Highlord, I welcome you to Drakengrad."
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Post by Tout-Perd on Apr 11, 2016 22:08:12 GMT -5
OOC: OH DEAR. Esther Damrosch is in a thread with my second most verbose character, not to mention the antics a lawyer could possibly help her cook up for abusing her powers. Color me intrigued!
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Post by Loogs on Apr 16, 2016 11:47:59 GMT -5
Nadeshi gazed out the window of the carriage as he absent-mindedly nibbled on a carambola he had picked from the trees earlier. He took in the smells of the market, the cheerful sound of children laughing and street musicians playing songs, and smiled gently. It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten how much I missed Drakengrad. As the carriage weaved up the mountains, Nadeshi savored the breathtaking view to keep himself from worrying too much about the reason his presence was requested here.
By the time he was brought in front of the royal family, Nadeshi felt calmed and serene enough to engage with the issue—but was not prepared for his relatives’ doting and prodding. He addressed them in Kalari. “Oh, Opi, yes it has, I’m sorry… The palace has had me sequestered ever since I took the throne. There is mounting pressure to open trade with other countries, but I—“
“UNCLE DESHI!!” Tiny hands tugging at his pants directed his attention away from Kalari foreign policy and to the animated child at his polished dragon scale boots.
“Sabriel, hello, my niece, how are you?” Nadeshi bent down to one knee, brushed aside a lock of hair from Sabriel’s face, and kissed her forehead. She’s grown so much since I last saw her. Opilia’s right, I should really visit more often…
“I’m good! Did you bring me a present?” Sabriel held out her hand expectantly, but Opilia intervened.
“Sabriel, no, don’t—“
“It’s okay, Opi, it just so happens that I did bring something for her.” Nadeshi reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small faceted, jewel-like top. It caught the light and scattered it in colorful, elegant forms when Nadeshi gave it a spin to demonstrate.
“Oooooh… Thank you, Uncle Deshi.” Sabriel hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, then picked up the top and shuffled off to entertain herself with it. Nadeshi stood back up when Opilia tugged on his sleeve, motioning to pull him aside to talk privately.
"Has everything been alright since... well..." Opilia met his gaze with marked grief, unable to speak the words out loud. Nadeshi bore her a gentle smile despite the fact that his vibrant green eyes betrayed remnants of lamentation as well.
"It's okay. Mother's death was a heavy burden for all of us to bear." Nadeshi swallowed back a developing knot in his throat as he recalled his bittersweet coronation several months prior. "Everything will be alright, Opilia. I have been preparing my entire life to take on this duty. We can't keep dwelling on the issue. It's... not what she would have wanted." Tears began to glisten in Opilia's eyes. Having spent the last several years away from Kalar, Opilia was having a rougher time coming to terms with the sudden, unexpected death.
"I know, Nadeshi, but I wish she could have lived just long enough to be present at Sabriel's coronation," Opilia choked out. Nadeshi leaned in to embrace his elder sister, holding her until her crying tapered off.
"Mother is watching. She will look over her grandchild and bestow upon the occasion the divine blessing on behalf of Kalayam, as she did when I was crowned king." Nadeshi wiped away her tears with a handkerchief in his pocket. Opilia mouthed out a thank you, and they walked back towards the others.
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Post by AngelicTragedy on Apr 16, 2016 21:25:54 GMT -5
In a swish of crimson robes Theren swept from the guarded room where the royal host currently sat and up the nearby staircase followed closely by the three Aldra-Sa women. At the crest of the flight of stairs a long hall ran in either direction, across the hall stood a stately door carved from dark wood and banded in gleaming silver. With a light touch the door opened wide and Theren entered with his comely tail. "This is hardly the time for the Highlord to be meeting with foreigners. There are much more important things that we have to discuss," Theren fired off as the door came to rest with a soft click. The morning sun lit the room in a glorious golden glow that sent the highly polished wooden furnishings to gleaming like crystal. A set of high backed chairs sat around a low table holding an assortment of cups and a pitcher of dark wine. Theren snatched up the pitcher and poured some in a cup before taking a slow sip of the stout, fruity liquid. "The Highlord does have his own way of conducting business and it is our place to serve at his pleasure," the young Aldra-Sa stated matter-of-factly before taking some wine for herself before planting herself in the seat facing the grand window that dominated the far wall. "This close to Princess Sabriel's coronation is not the time to entertain this common rabble. There are plans to make and things to discuss. If you haven't forgotten, Yhel, there is also the issue of some madman killing our kind." "And by our kind do you mean the people of Drakengrad or do you mean the nobility of Drakengrad?" Yhel Daxos snapped. Theren spun around to face the young woman and studied her with critical eyes. Yhel was thin, beautiful some would say, and fierce. There was a fire in her eyes that belied her kind nature. As the Left Hand of the Emerald Throne Yhel was also known as the Hand of Mercy, caring for the common people of Drakengrad. It wasn't out of the norm for Yhel to clash with Theren on issues of class but this was a level of fierceness that was new. "The whole of the kingdom is our kind and you'd do well to remember that." "That's interesting, as you've kept the Highlord busy so as the rest of us can't get a word in edgewise. Did it ever cross your mind to possibly see if any of the common people were also killed recently, or is highborne blood the only thing you're worried about? It's no secret that you find the small people distasteful." "Watch your mouth, you little bitch!" Theren roared. "Would the two of you stop this! This is the same song and dance we go through every time the Highlord frustrates one of you, and quite frankly, I can't be bothered to listen to it any longer," one of the other women snapped and pushed Theren down into the chair opposite Yhel. The other two women took the remaining seats and looked between the two Hands of the Throne with distaste. The one who had spoken was slightly taller than the other but both wore similar garb of brown, tan, and grey. The taller of the two was beautiful if not somewhat beginning to show the signs of age. Her eyes were a crystalline shade of green that shone like stars in the night sky, sun kissed skin, and a mane of black hair touched with grey at the temples. The other woman, Zasza Jhan, was a degree paler and bore a scar from forehead to chin on the left side of her face. She wore her hair closely trimmed and her grey eyes held a solemn gaze that talked of a person who had seen much in life. "Are the two of you done, or do I need to remind the two of you that you're acting like children again?" "Lyra Dayth, you have no business telling either Hand their business," Theren began to rise again before a hard glance from Lyra made him sit down once again. "My business seems to be keeping the two of you from ripping each others throats out these days. I've lived far to long to listen to your petty squabbling any longer. The Highlord rules and we serve, end of conversation." "Well said, Lyra," Yhel beamed at her and then at Theren. "You're correct, of course, and you'll please forgive my outbursts. I've been very stressed of late. Let us put this...unfortunate...event behind us and get down to business," Theren took a deep gulp of wine and swallowed his pride. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Valon looked on perplexed at Bebe and her long winded, if somewhat aggressive, introduction. Though he had heard stories of how cruel his ancestor Boros could be he wasn't sure until now that he would stoop to the level of enslaving another being on his own whims. Valon hadn't met his grandfather, he had passed nearly ten years before Valon's birth, but he'd been told that Akamai was a well loved king and did many goods for the realm. "Please Bebe, you may call me Valon when speaking behind closed doors. I'm impressed at your, ah, credentials and we are all lucky that you decided to come to our aid." To the right of the room a pair of doors slid open and a train of servants toting silver platters piled high with various types of food. Slabs of meat in thick sauces, crisp fried fish, mounds of rice, bowls of broth, platters covered fruit, and pitchers of sweetened nectars of several varieties. A second line of Aldra-Sa brought forth plates, utensils, and an assortment of condiments of, if smell said anything, a very spicy nature. All was laid out on the table before the gathering and then silently excused themselves. Valon spread his hands wide before the meal, the aroma intoxicating, and motioned for his guests to sit. "Please, breakfast is served. Join us." One more round to go, friends. That's when things get really interesting. Last minutes joiners, this is your last warning.[/spoilers]
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 22, 2016 6:57:07 GMT -5
Given the reign of proper sense, Isara felt, a humble buggy might have sufficed for a girl who'd spent the last ten days at sea. A shame then that the Highlord – ever one to stand on ceremony – had dispatched one of his porter-wurms, dressed in its trailing caparison of Lorsha black and green, to bear them to the palace instead. The high wooden litter strapped to the lizard's back, where Isara, Esther Damrosch, and the coachman now sat, gave an impression not unlike a ship's deck; although the wurm was admittedly well-trained, Isara noted the girl still held an ill look about her, and that her fingers tightened at the edge of her seat whenever the beast gave a lurch. Peering over the ornate rail to the winding street below, where mongers brushed shoulders with patricians and stray dogs skirted beneath the hooves of fine ponies as they wended deeper into the city, Esther Damrosch looked as though she would quite as happily have ridden along with one of the Third Legion horsemen making up their convoy.
Feeling it was only polite that a guest should be offered the chance to speak her grievances, Isara asked, "How fared you on the journey?"
The girl smiled wearily at her, but shook her head. "I should've taken Valon up on his invite. The letter said he could send this, like, teleporting scroll to just pick me up today... But then he added, you know, Captain Mitroch will be there in a few weeks for a delivery, if you'd rather sail with her. And I'd never been out on the ocean before... How could I pass it up?..."
Her words ran strange in Isara's ear. Guests from the Archipelago were rare, though it was known the Highlord had friends there. Isara had never grown familiar with this manner of speaking, or even this accent – a peculiar bastard thing, all rounded 'r's as the Americans spoke, but with that swift and steady tone she associated with visitors from the nearby Japan... There was not much art in it, she deemed. If the speech of Drakengrad was a long, tapering swordstroke, the speech of the Archipelago was a blunt volley of arrows.
Still, she discerned some need, on behalf of House Leral, to take responsibility. "It's my regret if she treated you poorly, Esther," said Isara, before adding, "the ocean, I mean – not the captain."
"Oh, I – I shouldn't complain," said Esther quickly. "No, it was really good, I'm glad I went. It was just... rough, you know. Beautiful though. Especially at night." She leaned back in her seat, eyes focused on something that wasn't there. "When you're out on deck at night, and there's nothing but the moon and your lantern, and everything else is black, then you feel like you're nowhere at all, you feel like you're just swimming through nothing... Well, it's a good way to clear your head."
She rattled all this off without the least poetic flourish, yet Isara felt there was a rather lovely thought in there, one the girl had only barely teased out. She knew, too, that sweet oblivion on the murmuring sea at night, when there was nothing in sight to tell the black air above from the black water below, when, for all a soul knew, the world himself had flipped on his head, and the moon was her own reflection.
Perhaps the girl had potential, yet. A few years of schooling in Drakengrad as a girl and she might have proven herself something indeed.
"Oh – uh – Captain Mitroch was nice, too," Esther added, "since you mentioned... She's tough, but, you know, funny. I mean in a good way. Lots of stories."
Isara smiled at this, and nodded. "You'll find there's no captain worth his weight in herring-heads can't spin you five fabulous tales before you've finished your soup," she said. "And as captains go, good Mag is worth her weight in pearls. It follows her tales are all the more fabulous."
She pointed with one thin finger down beneath them through the floorboards. "As an instance, she might have told you a thing or two about our dragons."
This was a matter she had been hoping to bring up. Though Esther looked very much out of comforts up here on the swaying litter, Isara had noticed she hadn't seemed to take a great fright at all at the sight of the wurm itself. She'd approached cautiously but not sheepishly, and climbed up into the box with nary a shudder. Nor showed she any tremor now in her reply. "Oh, yeah, they were all really excited about that. Every dinner, they'd get to telling me more about dragons. I think they were hoping to scare me a little, you know, for fun." Esther shrugged. "I didn't tell them, but I'd already seen a few. Tame ones, at the Mage Festival."
"And they frightened you not?"
Esther frowned at this. She breathed in deep, then shook her head. "No. I mean, kind of, obviously. But mostly I was... happy, you know?
"We grow up in the Archipelago, and, like – sure, we take some things for granted, that maybe everyone else would think is weird. And we get to thinking we're the little weirdo capital of the universe. No, I don't mean that in a bad way. The place where everything strange happens. But then you go out into the world and find out there's so much more you never believed was real..." The litter rocked slightly as the wurm turned a corner up a climbing alley, but this time it seemed the girl did not notice. "I went to the Mage Festival for the wrong reasons. Research, I guess. Didn't really think I would get that much out of it. But when I saw the parade, and the dragons, and all that stuff... I was happy about it. I thought, yes, okay, thank you – you know, I'm glad that dragons are real and they're in my world now, that's really cool, good."
Seemingly in an afterthought, she added: "I was holding out for hog warts, but I'll take dragons too, totally."
As to this last comment, Isara couldn't pretend to having the glimpse of an idea what the strange waif wanted with a hog's warts. She regarded the girl for a moment before proposing, "Tell me more of the festival. I understand it's where you met the Highlord."
"Yeah, that's right," said Esther, and, seemingly having opened the door a crack, she needed no further prompt to go on at a swift pace. "The first time I saw him was up front of the parade, sort of showing off, you know. But then he fell back in the line and got more into helping other people with their displays. There was this statue..." She looked up, as if picturing it. "A really tall green marble statue of a woman, only she had a fox's head. She was floating above the ground, and there were these, I guess earth mages, who were directing her movements, making her dance above the procession, like a ballerina. But someone else's spell went wrong, and there was this big blast that knocked one of her feet off. The mages were going to pull her back from the parade, but I saw Valon do that thing with his – what, silver magic, right? And he reattached the foot, and kind of welded it into place, and made this pretty silver anklet for her, with sapphires, to hold it on. And she kept right on dancing.
"I was way at the end, and eventually he made it back all the way to me, and we got to talking. And, I guess he thought it was pretty cool, what I can do. I don't know why. I don't think it's that great. Some... other people thought so too. I don't know." Here Isara noticed for the first time that the pale color had faded from the girl's cheeks.
"But anyway, then about a month ago, out of nowhere, I get his invite to Princess Sabriel's coronation. Didn't think I'd made that much of an impression, but Valon said he'd be honored to have me for a guest, and... well, okay, I guess you know the rest. That's me up to speed, pretty much."
Isara sat for a moment, one hand over the other in her lap, and observed the black-haired girl in silence. Putting aside a passing curiosity about the "other people" (she suspected Marius Solidad, whom she knew to have attended Lord Valon at the festival, and whose fine looks had flustered quite a few ladies of the court, including two of Isara's own sisters – though to no avail, if the rumors on the waterfront were true), she considered more carefully the story as it spoke of the Highlord himself. It was true, she allowed, that he could be quite a kind and charitable figure in person. Often enough she ignored this. Though by temper he was too reactive, too impetuous, to make the sort of ruler House Leral favored, he was, at the least, a good man. To outsiders such as Esther Damrosch he appeared as a most excellent king. It would do for Isara to mind her tongue in this company.
"I'm glad you enjoy parades, as there's another one planned," she said with a smile.
"Oh, yeah? So what's – I mean, how's it all...?"
"Tomorrow the princess shall receive all the lords and ladies of the court to swear their fealty to her. The Highlord's guests are welcomed in attendance as well – though you needn't swear anything, Esther, of course. Following is the day of the coronation itself, and then a day of festivities to follow after, and a grand tournament in the princess's honor. And not to worry," she added, "for I'll escort you as much as I can, or see you're well-kept in my absence. A surpassing great city it is, but we mean to do our best not to lose you in it."
At this the girl gave a smile of her own, which looked more genuine than Isara's felt. "Thank you so much, Miss Leral."
"Oh, really now," she said with a sweep of her hand, "it'll be 'Isara' between us, please. Indeed you'll hear others call me much the same. If my sisters and I were all 'Miss Lerals' then we should never know who was talking to whom." She pointed to her dress, dyed a rich deep blue the same color as the sails of Magden Mitroch's ship, with silver trim to match the moon and wave stitched on those same sails. "My raiment tells my surname to anyone in this city. We of House Leral have our colors."
"You're a famous house?"
"One of the oldest – oh, but a meager family we are, truly," she added quickly, seeing Esther's eyebrows rise. "It's a humdrum business my mother is tasked with, no more than minding the docks and the riverways, seeing to the commerce in and out, tending the Highlord's fleet... You'll find more glory elsewhere than we careless girls with our feet in the water."
It was at that moment they neared a tall oak sign pointing the way to Rosehill Market, beneath which sat a cloaked beggar woman who turned up her ancient face as they passed and set her too-bright blue eyes directly into Isara's. Holding back a scowl, Isara turned away and surveyed the street on the other side, where two men were hoisting up a banner for House Lorsha while a blade dancer performed with his slender estoc. They were losing their subtlety. Hadn't she received the message? There was an anxiety here which sat not at all with their characteristic way.
Turning back to the girl, she continued: "For your part, I hope you don't mind my calling you 'Esther'. It's a very pretty name..." But she trailed off at the sight of Esther trying and failing to speak. "Did I speak wrong?"
"It's just..." The girl looked uncomfortable. "It's Ess-ter, not Ess-ther."
"Graces!" Ess-ter? She'd uttered the name how many times already, and it'd taken the girl this long to come 'round mentioning it? There was a discourtesy in correcting others on their errors too soon – but wasn't there, too, a discourtesy in allowing others to carry on those errors far too long? Every educated girl this age in Drakengrad knew it perfectly well, that politesse could be just as often a matter of when as what. Such a squandered opportunity an improper upbringing might reveal. "Please, my apologies, Esther. I shall take care to get it right."
"Really, don't worry about it..."
She forced herself to move past it, and speak brightly. "Ess-ter. A pretty name either way. You know its meaning?"
"I don't." The girl furrowed her brow. "I guess it's from the scriptures. It's an old name."
"Ah; and are you a very godly folk, in the Archipelago?"
The girl opened her mouth, then closed it again. Isara took this as a flag to follow the matter no further. It was as like as not she'd returned a discourtesy of her own in asking. Esther's hesitation didn't trouble her, though. In truth, Isara would have had to own that she held no seat among the godly folk herself anymore. Though she did certain find a beauty in old names, and the old stories, which, in her childhood, had wrought so upon her imagination: stories of Sari'n, who walked unclothed beyond the emerald firefalls, bathing her body and mind in flame on her way to emerging as the Mystic; of Gal'ela, who slew the goat-king and his ten thousand devils on her first day of life, long before she would become the Martyr; of Haasto-Vec, who called every star in the night sky into a treaty with the All-Mother, only to turn them upon her during his own bid to rule the heavens, sealing his name for ever as the Betrayer.
Damn the beggar woman, she knew, she'd received the message with no trouble...
"May the Emerald Flame bless you, lady!"
"Praise the All-Mother!"
Another distraction, and a marked topical one, at that. The white-robed women stood in a gaggle beneath the Emerald Arch, troubling every noble who passed, and exclaiming over the grand sight of the porter-wurm and the Third Legion soldiers, who now dismounted and, heeding the women not, arrayed their horses in a clattering semicircle before the arch. One woman called up to Esther, "Aou'n loves you, sweet girl!" Going slightly flushed again, the girl seemed at a loss to respond, but Isara waved it off. She held a suspicion that Aou'n herself was not the benefactor whose favor these white-robed women meant to curry with their prattle.
The great wings like green glass tapered overhead. They had reached the steps of the Sheru Drakan. Past the garden up and ahead, the palace lay bright and shimmering, dressing itself in the morning sun like the sea.
* * *
"Amirah Senna and Amir Honzo, I come with one of the Highlord's honored guests. I trust you will allow her entry."
The woman made a deep curtsy, fanning her blue dress out over her feet, and the two armored figures – one of them might've been female, she couldn't exactly tell – stepped in and simultaneously opened the dark wood doors to the chamber, in a surprisingly quiet motion for their bulky attire. There was a long table beyond, with a small gathering of people and a colorful buffet of steaming food. Esther made to move, but hesitated, expecting Isara to lead them inside.
"Don't we go in?" she asked the woman.
Still holding the curtsy, Isara Leral smiled, a more rueful smile than Esther had seen so far. "We don't," she said. "You do, my girl. This is a private breakfast, and you were requested; I was not."
Go in there alone? Esther stared. The two armored guards were staring right back at her, as if expectantly, not even acknowledging Isara any further. "You said you'd escort me..."
"As much as I can, and see you're well-kept in my absence, and where will you be better kept than by the Highlord himself?" Isara replied in a breezy tone. "I'll break my own fast and return, Esther, and you'll find me here to greet you when you've had your fill. Be sure they're not stirred to dine with me, one of Kallista Leral's daughters is as good as any other to them."
Esther took a step forward, feeling very small in between the two guards. "Well, okay," she managed. "Thanks, Isara – I'll see you..."
But once she'd passed the threshold, she only had enough time to catch a glimpse of Isara straightening back up before the doors slammed shut again behind her. Suddenly feeling that her heart was beating quite a strong pattern in her chest, Esther hovered by the entry. The noise had caught the attention of Valon, who was looking at her now, as much as she would've preferred to go unnoticed. Though the expression on his face wasn't unkind, he looked terribly tired, and older – somehow much older than when they'd met, not even two full years before. Here, much more than at the festival, it hit her with full force that she was standing in the presence of a king, and that she didn't have the slightest damn idea how to carry herself.
"H-Hi again, your majesty."
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Post by AngelicTragedy on Apr 23, 2016 21:19:57 GMT -5
Alright all, this is the final warning for entries and a notice to all involved at present. If you are wanting to post again before the plot starts proper send me a PM no later than Tuesday. I'll be officially starting the post a week from Sunday unless I receive a notice of intention to post.
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Post by AngelicTragedy on May 8, 2016 18:54:53 GMT -5
"Isara, daughter, come here!" A firm voice called out from behind the bent form of Isara Leral. Across the entrance hall strode a woman in a sea green gown and brown leather corset. She appeared to be older and had distinctive silver streaks through her hair at the temples. Her stance told of deeply seated confidence and authority. At her side was a young man of fourteen or fifteen, dark of hair and eye, dressed in a blue leather jerkin and black trousers. Killista was the last person that Isara expected to appear in the palace, let alone behind her and without her knowing. "M-mother..." Isara began but stopped short. "I know Isara, you didn't expect me to be here, and neither did I. The Highlord sent out a summons this morning just after you left commanding that all the Lords and Ladies attend him after he breaks his fast with these guests of his. I see that you've managed to get the mage girl here without incident." Kallista said with what seemed to be a mix of honest surprise and amusement. "Now that you've finished one part of your orders from the Highlord I need you to do your dear mother a favor. I hardly think that this meeting will be appropriate for your brother, so I need you to keep an eye on Kairon until I or Ea are able to return to the docks. Ea is currently visiting her betrothed in Brassdawn and should return by mid afternoon. It's so nice to see my children finding matches, when are you going to start accepting suitors? You're of age and pretty besides. It's long past time you started thinking about a future beyond the docks, girl." "Mother," Kairon piped up from her side. "It wouldn't do to keep the Highlord waiting. You always say that he's go a bit of a temper." "Mind your business, child, or I'll have you hauling gut wagons for the next year. It would be a shame to keep the Highlord waiting. I'll be off, make sure you keep an eye on your brother Isara. I trust you can manage to watch a mage and your younger brother without any major mishap." Kallista said as she turned sharply on her heels and marched up the divided stair towards a destination somewhere above. Kairon approached his sister with a wry smile and cocky stride. "You owe me for that, dear sister." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The mounds of meat, fruit, and other luxurious food assaulted the senses as more and more platters of food were brought before the gathered guests. Valon had been clear that the cooks were to be as modest as possible with this meal but it would seem that they had other ideas. It wasn't every day that a cook for the king was allowed to show off their skills in the kitchen as their king preferred simpler fare. Valon decided to allow everything to be brought out till the staffs heart was content, but when a dish holding a large purple dome-like gelatin dish was being carried from the door between two servers he was forced to harden his eyes and nodded the mass back into the kitchens. The king began pulling several items from the assembled dishes onto a small golden plate; a mound of perfumed rice topped with a spicy sauce, a star fruit, several unusual stewed vegetables that looks something like radishes, and a woven roll coated in powdered sugar. Valon placed the plate on the table next to himself and whistled lightly. Sabriel hopped up from her playing with Edos and skipped over to the table, taking her place next to her father and began happily munching on the roll. The large Draken strode across the room behind his charge and plucked a turkey leg from the platters before taking up a standing position behind the princess. Valon gave his daughter a sideways smirk before beginning to make himself a plate of soft flatbread topped with fillets of fish coated in a sauce that smelt of a mix asian chilis and vinegar. The dark wood doors across the room parted and whispered over the marble to allow Esther to enter. Valon noted that Isara Leral was bowed before the entrance of the meeting room. He'd wondered which of the children that Lady Kallista would send to escort his most recent guest. "H-Hi again, your majesty." Valon smiled, rising from his seat, and made his way around the table towards the perplexed young woman. He'd been expecting Esther for some time now but he'd been hoping that she's possibly be delayed a few days so that the situation at hand could be resolved before her arrival. Valon knew that the girl could handle herself, of course she could with her magical abilities, but Esther wasn't someone that Valon felt a great desire to burden with something as heavy as what he was about to. The Highlord of Drakengrad was fond of the girl even after so little interaction between the two; she reminded him of a simpler time before he'd been a true king, before things had seemingly drained the life out of him. "Esther, I'm glad that you've finally arrived safely. I trust that your trip was pleasant? Did your liaison treated you well?" The King said softly as to not bring the full attention of the gathering upon Esther as much as possible. "Yes, sir, or--" The girl seemingly faltered over that word choice, but pressed on quickly. "The trip was really fun. And M-- Lady Isara is very good company. She's... interesting. I mean in a good way." Looking around, she added, "Probably too late for introductions...?" "Of course not, of course not. I'll introduce everyone in just a moment. I'm very glad that you and Isara hit it off. Of all of Kallista's daughters I've always found Isara to be the most pleasant. Now, please come and join us. I hope the food it to your liking." Valon placed a hand on the Esthers elbow and guided the young woman to a seat before taking his own once again. "Well, now that everyone is here I suppose a few introductions are in order. Firstly, Davra Surhamgiak Nadeshi Maëltios, the King of Kalar. A man of great power and my own brother through marriage. Secondly, Bebeodan Thistledown. Though we have just met I have reason to believe that she may be one of the greatest legal minds on the planet. Lastly, but by no means least, Esther Damrosch, a gifted young woman whom I have had the pleasure to call a friend." Valon spoke with as much regal candor that he could as he indicated each, meaning every single word that he said. "As you all know, I am Valon Lorsha, the King of Dragons and Highlord of Drakengrad. To my right is my better half Opillia Maëltios-Lorsha, my beloved queen and partner in all things. This little wonder to my left is Sabriel Lorsha, my cherished daughter whom I owe much of my sanity," Valon smiled down at his daughter with barely contained pleasure. "The Draken behind us is General Edos Yon, High Commander of the Legions of Drakengrad. You all have our most sincere thanks for coming here this morning." Valon took a deep breath and nodded to Edos behind him. Edos lightly picked the princess up with one hand and her plate with the other. Edos returned the nod and Sabriel blew a kiss to her mother and father before waving like the energetic child she was to the guests. Edos took the heir to the throne through the door the serving staff had come and disappeared. Valon allowed some of the regal poise to drain away and snapped his fingers. The scent of rain flooded the table, briefly masking the aroma of breakfast, as four emerald colored gaps in space appeared behind the king. An armored form marched from each portal before taking up a tight stance of attention. Each knight was armored much the same as the two with different colors. A woman armed with a massive battle fan dressed in gray and white, a man in green and brown armed with a pair of boulder-like gauntlets, another woman clad in blue and black wielding a weapon that almost looked to be a boat oar, and another man garbed in red and orange bearing a pair of ornate golden katars stood ready behind Valon. Each held a long polearm like their comrades outside the door. "Allow me to also introduce Mya, Barris, Seze, and Tylon. You've already met Senna and Honza outside. These are the Kior Tekai Drakan, the Knights of the Grand Dragons. Each is meant to embody the power of one of the six Grand Dragons and each is sworn to protect me, my family, and our secrets. The two behind you are Vex and Vax, they are know as the Kior Ulitaan, or the Knights of Transition. They are sworn only to guard the Highlord. They are here for our protection and privacy. Mya, Barris, take the servants entrance. Seze and Tylon, outside the door with Senna and Honza." Each armored figure snapped a quick salute and clomped towards their assignment. Once the guards were in place Valon took a moment to pour himself a small goblet of wine and another for Opillia. He took a small sip of the liquid, swishing the aromatic beverage through his mouth for a moment before swallowing, before starring into the depths of dark wine. Opillia slipped her hand into her husbands and turned his gaze away from the goblet. The pair shared a long look before turning back to the assembled guests. "My friends, I've asked you all here because there is death in my kingdom." Valon began before pausing to get a reassuring nod from Opillia. "Sadly, it's nothing like an illness that can be so easily cured or an army at our gates. I would gladly trade anything were that simple. There is murder on the streets of Sonas Drakan. The one whom has gripped my people in fears icy grasp seems to be targeting only the nobility. "Normally, this would have ended up being a small uprising of the common people to throw out an unjust land owner or some rival lords battling over some petty stream or field that the other had laid claim to. This time it is far more complex. The nobles that have been killed have been well liked among their kin and loved by the people. You'll understand why is troubles me so greatly, especially this close to the coronation of Sabriel." Valon and Opillia shared another look and both appeared sick with worry. "I've put my best people to the task of finding the ones responsible, but as of this moment they have come up completely empty. The only evidence we have that is solid is the fact that all of the victims were killed with the same blade, a thin and wickedly curved blade. Each body was found within the city on well traveled guard routes. Sadly, this leads me to believe that the one responsible is either a guard commander or a member of the nobility itself. "I'll be the first to admit that I've never really been the best king. Yes, I could tell you just about every name and story of the merchants, tavern keepers, and dock workers in Sonas Drakan, but the nobility it would seem I know little. I know the names and family histories but could I tell you which of the children of House Lenn come of age or what their proclivities were, probably not. I've even displeased the faith by refusing to turn over Sabriel to the Daughters of Sari'n. You see, it's tradition for the first born daughter of the royal family to be given to the Daughters as a gift Aou'n. They live their lives in service to the Goddess and have no dealings with the rule or law of Drakengrad as they serve a higher power. I couldn't part with Sabriel, and Opillia threatened me if I even thought about it, which I never would. I gifted a grand palace called Golden Grove to the Daughters in place of Sabriel, which they accepted. I've also ruffled a few feathers, so to speak, with my appointments to high positions within the Legions. Marius Solidad was nothing more than a lowly Legionnaire when I brought him high. There were houses that whispered of open rebellion when their child was rejected in place of a low born warrior, but Marius quickly silenced those who doubted his ability by issuing an open challenge to defend his new found position. After the third challenger fell in single combat the whispers stopped, but I feel that there are still certain families that resent my decisions. Any one of these could be a reason for one of my lords or ladies to consider murder. "In my position as king it would not do to conduct some sort of crusade against the most powerful of my subjects, so that is where I must ask you all to come in." Valon paused once again to gage the reactions of his guests. Help was not something that he'd ever had to ask for before. He'd always been the one to come to the aid of others, always the one to save the day. Never before had Valon felt so helpless and the feeling made his sick to his stomach. He tasted bile at the back of his throat and took another sip of wine to push the flavor back down but the once sweet drink tasted sour to him. "I ask you a favor for which I would not blame any of you to decline. I need you to question my nobles and gather what clues you can as to whom would want to murder their own. It's a task that I don't ask lightly and if you choose to accept I cannot promise that there won't be danger involved, but I have no other course of action available to me but wait for more murders with the hope that more information could turn up. So I ask, will you aid me and find this killer before another person dies?"
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Post by Tout-Perd on May 10, 2016 17:36:38 GMT -5
Bebeodan rarely felt as out-of-sorts amongst the humans as when it came time for meals. All the unseemly flapping of their immense jaws, the bared teeth with shreds of flesh and wilted vegetation bigger than her hand jammed into the cracks, and her most severe disinclination, the leathery slapping of their flabby lips as the ruminated on their meal... It was enough to turn her stomach. Still, it was only good manners to partake, lest she offend the Highlord.
The fey kept her eyes firmly affixed upon the single concord grape she’d plucked from a bunch big enough that she could have burrowed in. Occasionally, she’d wince, and manage to take a single overly-large chomp from it, revealing her preternaturally sharp teeth. For all of her complaints about dining with mortals, the produce from Drakengrad was exquisite.
“Greatest legal minds on the planet-” At that remark, the fey attorney seemingly puffed up, a luminous shade of pink running into the veins of her wings. She lifted her chin with pride. The grape fell from her grasp, forgotten, and bounced off the precipice of table’s edge.
Don’t be too smug, but be just smug enough to be inscrutable and make that praise look well deserved, Bebe, she chided herself. The humans had a saying, “Pride goeth before a fall” (she liked that- the more archaic English sounded so much more dignified than slapdash modern vernacular), and it was something Bebeodan believed all the fey should take note of.
Naturally, as the fey were better than humanity, pride came to them instinctively, but just a taste of human humility could prove an incredibly useful tool.
“Highlord Valon, all due respect, but the terms you offer are untenable,” Bebeodan’s flutter increased its tempo, elevating her slightly.
“You stated you’ve yet to establish any manner of predictable timetable to these murders. Ergo, we can not promise in good faith that we’ll help you find the killer prior to another attack, since its entirely possible such an event is occurring at this very moment.”
Bebeodan fell silent, waiting for a response. Somebody dropped their fork, the clang seemingly much louder than it should have been. She decided to continue her statement, using to racket as punctuation to pivot what she was saying.
“However, were you to proffer amended terms to that request, stating that we would hopefully apprehend the culprit before there were any more victims, I would gladly agree to such an arrangement.”
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jun 16, 2016 23:55:27 GMT -5
"crouchbarrow": one who secretly follows another person on the street, only to crouch behind a barrow every time they're about to be discovered. A rather dismissive term for a low-level spy. You best believe I will be taking the opportunity of playing around with Drakengrad dialect to coin some new cutthroat compounds. (I also gave her "the counterpole" instead of "vice versa" but that's an actual word I didn't pull out of my ass.)
Kairon's dialogue below, and probably always in future, supplied by DL, with mild touching-up from me. Isara took her breath easier as she watched the older woman's deliberate progress up the stairs, the folds of Lady Kallista's gown rolling identically with each measured step. As to how her own mother might surface before her more suddenly than an Avrae crouchbarrow, Isara had no answer. In plain view the head of House Leral carried herself with no less pomp than Lords Theren or Urhur, yet where their booming footfalls proclaimed their whereabouts from any place in the city, Mother's own forceful stride passed mysteriously from hearing when she passed from sight – just as now, once the last pleat of turquoise fabric disappeared off the stair. She could still surprise Isara. That would not at all do. By this age it was for daughters to surprise their mothers, not the counterpole. And to haul off this cargo upon her? Her only brother wanted protecting not half so much as the waterfront wanted protecting from him! It was as well she'd paid her visit to monger Gladdig already. The last time Kairon had followed with her there, a richly-appointed admiral of the royal fleet, thick of beard, had towered over the board, counting up the guests he would entertain at a feast that evening, and giving Gladdig ample instruction on the array of fish he meant to purchase for the same. Skulking behind, Kairon had plucked a pouch from the admiral's greatcoat when the older man pointed. Isara could recall the perfectly serious expression on her brother's face as he'd quietly emptied the pouch of silver and scooped a handful of trout scale into its stead, before slipping the pouch back in the admiral's pocket. He always had a gift for holding his broad smile until a trick had played itself out in whole and he'd gotten away free. Too soon, though, the game had been betrayed, when a wright's silly daughter had stepped into the shop and, running her hand over the bench of trout, exclaimed that some miraculous fish of silver scales lay here, that she'd found coins in among the flesh... It had taken a fair handful of Isara's own coin to win back the monger's good graces at that, along with tasking the same wright and his prentices to refurbishing the boat of every fisher who supplied Gladdig, at House Leral's expense. To appease the admiral she'd seen to it that Kairon himself had spent those few weeks among the prentices. No doubt the wright's daughter had shared a plenty more silly stories to keep his ear while he hammered the nails and coated the boards. Still and all, Isara couldn't hold her ire very long at Kairon even in the worst of times. His smile invited her own. Then, too, he had just steered Mother from a subject Isara was abidingly happy to avoid. "You'll not forget I owe you, either, dear brother," she told him, with a mockingly stern finger, "when Mother takes to parading you in the Highlord's court, staking our very house on your choice of a bride..." Kairon shook his curly-haired head. "I've already picked a sweet flower for my own, sister. I'm hoping to make our couple before Mother can intrude." "Ah, brother, I know not whether to wish you luck or restraint. How young you are!" At this the youth bristled. "I'll not have Mother hovering over me like she does you," he protested, leaning against the stone bannister at the foot of the stairs. "Just because you don't wish to find a match doesn't mean I don't." Isara was no longer smiling. "Don't mistake me, Kairon. It's not the idea I reject." No, not the idea of love; it was a perfectly fine idea, and she'd enjoyed evenings enough under canopies that rippled in the breeze off the waterfront, play-acting at love's motions for an amusement with some game midshipman or sail-sewing maiden from over the sea. What galled her was Mother's demand that she take spouse here, in Drakengrad. Why should she settle for a boor from Dunrai or Malmend or another lesser house, cramped inland beyond the kingdom's walls? Whose purblind reaction was that to the new horizons lying before them? At the time of the Descent, Isara had been scarce older than Kairon now, and what a growth she'd seen (and helped to spur) in her mother's house these ten years since: from well-born but trifling keepers of the city's canals and waterworks, to the guiding ministers of all commerce and travel into and out of the kingdom. The Descent to a wide world below had heralded nothing but opportunity for the water wardens of House Leral, just as surely as for the secret-gatherers of House Avrae. It was not they, but only House Lenn (the soldiers, fearing new dangers) and House Vanlith (the traditionalists, resenting new ideas) who bemoaned the decade of possibilities since the Descent. And yet Mother, who'd seized each opportunity the tide had carried to her door, still clung to the old design of her family's legacy, seeking to marry off every one of her children within these same walls! "How young you were," Isara repeated softly. "The Descent meant so little to you... You'd have had no use for the land below, anyhow, in your first five years. And Ea and our older sisters had already laid their anchors here long before. But you must understand now, little brother – there are so many people in the wondrous lands beyond the sea, so many to whom you might consign your heart – and you really think, at your age, it's been won already?" "I've let my heart fly, dear sister." Kairon, too, let his voice drop, as an armored guard passed them in the hall. He lowered his head as Isara stepped closer (for privacy, not to meet her eyes; the boy hadn't reached his full height, and she stood somewhat over him yet). "No one ever said I was following Mother's direction on this." Isara took his meaning. The head of House Leral had kept no secret her intent to offer her only son as suitor to the little princess. To hear Mother's cooing talk of Sabriel at dinners in the family hall, you might well wonder she'd never made such a show of fawning over her own children. "I should hope not." "Of course Mother will raise a squall once she hears my decision, but she'll learn to accept it. I'm the only person carrying on our family name – what can she do but forgive me?" There was the broad smile again, only serving to call to eye the freshness of his features. In the moment before, he had almost reminded her of their father, a face she remembered more from portraits than life, but no longer: Kairon was a boy again. Isara sighed. "It's your own grievance, not Mother's, that I fear, when you wake ten years hence to find you chose your love too soon!" But he said firmly: "Better we make some choices now, and have them done. The Descent was only the beginning, Isara." Then Kairon spread his arms, still grinning. With the great stone entrance hall briefly to them alone, he made no effort to keep his voice low. "You cast your lines as far as you like, I'll cast mine where I will. At the end of the day, as long as we have a catch to be proud of, isn't that all that really matters?" Isara might have mounted further protest, but let it alone. If she couldn't at least allow herself to be relieved Kairon meant to choose his own betrothal without Mother's appointing, she'd find no peace on this day or any other. Too, she had to confess: even for her own ardent refusal to take spouse in Drakengrad, she had never in these ten years truly left the kingdom behind, never put sail against the wind and set to sea except with some mercantile purpose and the intent to return as soon as she saw that purpose completed. For wasn't there always some new responsibility on the waterfront: a new commission from the Highlord, a perilous trade route to redefine, a new system of conduits to serve the city's most barren reaches, ambassadors to receive, shipments to dispatch, feuds of the water's harvest to settle? It was good work, and Isara flattered herself she made a fine craft of it, and even relished the same. To pay the wide world its due, to see all its splendors and brush with all its peoples – and yes, perhaps, to find herself a partner among them – would require the sacrifice of all her duties to her house. When was she prepared to make such a change? If not today, and if not tomorrow, then when? Could she rightly blame her young brother for casting his line so close to home? She took his arm. "Let's break our fast, brother," she said, "and you can play your coy hermit. I don't wonder it'll be your wedding day before you tell me who is your intended..." * * * At the other end of the table sat Esther, slightly pink in the cheeks, grasping her fork very firmly. She shouldn't have been surprised to find out faeries existed, after the Mage Festival and everything – because this was a faerie, wasn't she? Or a pixie, or a sprite, or whatever the right word was. Maybe a sylphid (value 78). But Esther still found it hard not to stare at the tiny woman, shedding silver glimmer where her wings flapped, and wearing a human's necktie as kind of a shawl. When the faerie said her piece and fell silent, Esther forced her eyes down to the rice and vegetables on her plate. (A relief, after so many salted meat dishes on the ocean.) She had a feeling Something Thistlesomeone was ready to put a serious dressing-down on the first person in the room to break etiquette. Though, to be honest, Esther couldn't say she would mind getting lectured in this case if it meant hearing more four-syllable words. The faerie talked like a textbook. Esther liked that in a person. More than she liked actually reading textbooks, anyway. The other guest, the man in black and gold with the purple hair, King Maeltios, hadn't said anything. He was keeping a hand on the arm of his sister Opilia, who was dressed in a very deep green gown ( smaragdine, say, value 75?) that called attention to their family resemblance: it matched the eyes of both siblings. Her hairdo unravelling here and there and those green eyes of hers slightly bleary – neither of which Esther was ever in any position to judge – she looked as worn as her husband, and his words had pretty well explained why. Murder in the city... Why hadn't Isara told her? Maybe she hadn't known that was the purpose of Valon's inviting Esther to breakfast – or she'd known, but couldn't risk mentioning it in public? Offended nobles, bereft priestesses, jealous soldiers, even short-fused civilians by the sound of it, any of whom might be planning to act during the coronation. The girl pressed back against her chair, noticing how small she felt against its tall back. If she thought she could actually be any help to Valon at all... Twisting at the sleeve of her sweater, she tried to remember times her magic had helped in the past with things like snooping around or uncovering lies. She'd already used confirm (value 66) years and years ago. Also verify and investigate (both value 70). Of course she'd used up those simple ones, that was stupid, she'd burned through so many simple ones already. Maybe reconnoiter (value 59)? That one was still open, she was pretty sure. She could consult her book later. No, there she went, trying to crack the possibilities. The last thing Esther needed all of a sudden was to let her attention slip. But when she pulled her mind back from those stacks of words, it was to half-accidentally blurt out the question she'd been thinking: "Can you tell – I mean, do you have – is there some kind of list of the victims?"
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Post by Loogs on Jun 25, 2016 20:24:59 GMT -5
Nadeshi indulged in the rich, heady scents of the feast before him, overwhelmed with all his options for food. Should he go for the spicy vegetable soup or the slow-roasted lamb shank? The pheasant tikka kebabs looked tantalizing… At last, he settled on a bowl of coconut curry chicken over a bed of basmati rice. Nadeshi picked up his fork and scooped up his first bite, immediately feeling the familiar tingle of Parthuka peppers imported from Kalar. The curry filled his stomach with a comforting warmth that evoked memories of intimate family dinners in the solarium balcony overlooking the palace’s vast, lush verdant terrace. It was a solacing reminder of home well appreciated in these harrowing times. He finished his bowl quickly, and was about to go for seconds when instead a thin, bejeweled arm reached for the pot of curry before he could do so.
“Makes you think of the Kalari New Year palace feasts, no?” Opilia asked with a fond smile as she prepared her own bowl of curry and rice. She ate a few spoonfuls before turning to Sabriel, squirming in her booster seat finishing the last of her roll, and slipping a small amount of curry chicken into her mouth.
“Ah, yeah… You’re feeling homesick too, aren’t you?” Nadeshi had changed his mind and instead gathered a few pieces of garlic naan still piping hot from the tandoor. Opilia nodded in affirmation. Of course she was. Just as monarchical duties in Kalar kept him from making regular visits to Drakengrad, so too was she prevented from sojourning in her homeland by her own responsibilities here.
“Haaa, hot, hot, hot!” Sabriel exclaimed as her eyes widened and she panted with the morsel of curry still in her mouth. Nadeshi and Opilia giggled, her mother promptly pouring a glass of mango lassi to soothe her tiny tongue.
“I remember when your uncle was your age and Mother fed him his first bite of curry. He was huffing and puffing just like you.” Opilia mimed a reenactment for little Sabriel, who laughed and joined in with her own impression. Nadeshi couldn’t help but grin; he had indeed recognized a suspicious resemblance in his niece’s surprised reaction.
When Sabriel was suddenly whisked away by the general, a tense and onerous air settled around the table. The king’s colorful sentinels, one by one, stationed themselves in the room, each holding a different ornate weapon. Nadeshi’s mouth fell slightly open as he took inventory of Valon’s knights. His eyes darted nervously across his surroundings, and his shoulders tensed into a stiff, uncomfortable position. ”Our protection and privacy”? I’m not so su— Before he could say anything to Opilia, his sister turned to confer silently with her spouse. Nadeshi could sense the same primal fear response in her; her nostrils flared and she started inhaling through her open mouth.
“…the one responsible is either a guard commander or a member of…” Nadeshi’s glistening eyes locked with those of a watching knight. The two felt their perception and awareness narrow until all they could focus on was each other. The dragon monarch’s unblinking gaze transfixed the knight firmly in place for two seconds, spellbound, until finally Nadeshi noticed the polearm in his hand subtly quivering. He ended their ocular standoff and returned his attention to Valon.
”Will you aid me and find this killer before another person dies?" Solve a murder mystery? Nadeshi was a king, not a detective, and he questioned just how useful he would really be in this situation. The fairy was correct; all he could really promise was his most valiant efforts, and he questioned how far even that would get them.
“I accept your assignment,” was all he could muster to say aloud.
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Post by AngelicTragedy on Jul 3, 2016 21:44:15 GMT -5
OOC- The ending kind of broke my brain, but I can live with it I guess. I may rewrite it a bit, but not tonight. Kallista glided into the grand audience chamber with all the confidence she could muster. She truly hated this room. The tiered seats leading down to the raised platform that held only an ornately carved wooden seat belonging to the Highlord always gave her a sour feeling in her stomach. The dark stain of the wood and the lack of windows made the hall feel like a crypt. Kallista understood that the chamber was built so that there would be no distractions from the discussions that took place within but it made her feel choked. This room was far flung change from the open air of her beloved seas and rivers; the closeness of the arched ceiling made Kallista long for the wide expanse of sky. Kallista descended the steps towards her seat in the front row. A few of the lesser nobles had already gathered among the rows of stout seats deep in conversation. Lords Atell and Yndl sat near the top of the room speaking in light tones about meager issues the two always seemed to have with their neighboring lords. Lower in the chamber Lady Olendra Gavel sat reading some dusty tome with a look of annoyance on her face. Kallista nodded to all who took notice of her as she advanced into the cavernous chamber. She spoke to no one and quickly neared her seat when from behind she heard a large cough. Kallista glanced over her shoulder to find herself looking at the massive armored chest of a mountain of a man. The lord stood nearly seven foot tall and fully filled out his set of black and copper plate. "Ah, Lord Lenn, you gave me a start. How may I aid you?" Kallista asked with a slight bow. "My Lady, it is I that must ask if I can be of aid to you. Shall we sit?" Lord Lenn offered his arm to Kallista, which she took after a moment. The pair found their seats next to one another in the final row before the Highlord's platform and sat. Kallista sat on the edge of her seat, her back straight as an arrow, whereas Lord Lenn occupied his entire seat. His armor took up nearly the entire space between armrests and clinked lighting against the hardwood on its construction. Lord Lenn looked down on Kallista with a genuine smile through his bushy russet beard, a light sheen of sweat made his brow and receding hairline shine in the light of the torches and candles scattered about the chamber. Kallista always found Lord Lenn to be a stubborn, if not infuriating, man but she had found that he was not unkind in his own way. The fact that the man had earned the nickname 'the Old Ram' for a reason was no surprise. "I'd not expected you to arrive so soon Lord Lenn," Kallista said with a polite nod. "Please Kallista, we are far to old for the constant use of titles. For the last time, you'll call me Urhur," Urhur Lenn chuckled at his companion. "Very well, Urhur, as you wish. I suppose you're right, we are far to old for all the formalities now. We've said our fair share of my Lords and my Ladies. I trust that your family is well." "Quite well, thank you. Warryn has become a fierce warrior just like his father. Genda and Tana are getting more beautiful every day, and Gell is growing like a weed. It's all that Surinn and I can do to keep up with the lot of them. I've just heard of Ea's and Phelaia's engagements. Congratulations are in order. Both of their young lords are fine boys, fine matches." "Thank you, my family is truly what is most important to me. Perhaps it's time that Warryn finds a bride," Kallista perked up slightly, leaning into Urhur. "Perhaps it is. I take it that you've got one of your daughters in mind?" "Of course, I am the foremost match maker in Drakengrad. I think that we should introduce your Warryn to my Isara. It's past time that she finds a proper match and whom better than the heir of house Lenn?" Before Urhur could answer a whispering sigh rang out just to the left of the pair. Both turned to find another lord sitting with a bemused grin on his face. He was clad in black and grey silk robes bound in thin bronze chains. A pair of ornate daggers rested lightly on a thin leather belt around his waist. His highly oiled black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. "Always the opportunist, aren't you Kallista?" "Balasar Avrae, watch your tongue lest I remove it," Kallista snapped at the newly arrived nobleman. "I mean no disrespect, my Lady, in fact I admire you for being an opportunist. How else are we to gain what we want in this world if we are not willing to reach out and take it?" Balasar spoke in almost a sing song tone, sweet and dangerous. "Balasar, you know the happenings of the city as of late. This kind of talk could be taken as a sign of your involvement in these slayings," Urhur spoke in a near threatening manner. "Trust me, Lord Urhur, if I or my followers were involved you'd not know that a slaying had taken place." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Opilia took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She sat her spoon down and wiped her mouth with a silken cloth. She looked towards Valon, his face long and his expression exhausted, before turning towards Esther with what passed as a smile. "That is a very good question. The first person to die was a young man by the name of Zolis Dross. He was a gate commander on the southern road. Everyone knew that Zolis had a temper and didn't lack for enemies. When he was found dead it was thought to be his own doing, brought on by some fight he'd started when in his cups. "The second victim was woman by the name of Atala Vonn. She was an older woman, head of a textile house serving the crown. In fact, she made the majority of my gowns. She was a dear friend..." Opilia trailed off, her eyes swelled with tears, as she became suddenly interested in her food. "Atala and her textile house were the top suppliers of clothing to our family. Atala was a sweet woman, no one could say a negative word about her," Valon finished for his wife before placing a hand on her knee. "Finally, Tris Bentha was the most recent victim. He was an aspiring military mind, if he'd have lived he could have lead a Legion of his own one day, or so I'm told. Sadly, I never had the pleasure of really meeting the boy. Sadly, I'll not ever get to meet him," Valon took an interest in his food as well, his meal sat half eaten. The silence that followed was long and painful. No one seemed to want to be the one to speak first and the tension in the room was thick. Valon finally sighed and clapped his hands in front of him. He rose from his seat and rose to stalk his way around the table. Valon motioned for the group to continue eating and strode the length of the room while everyone ate in silence. Opilia had grown accustomed to these bouts of melancholy from her husband, but this one seemed to be beyond the norm. She ate a few more bites of her curry before rising as well to join Valon. Opilia pulled Valon to a stop and pressed her mouth to his ear. The pair conferred for a long moment and then pressed their foreheads together. Valon lightened slightly and spread his arms wide. "All of you, we will forever be in your debt. What you've agreed to here today means more to me than you could ever know. Now, I have a gift for this mission you now undertake. If you'll all please stand." As the group rose and gathered before Valon the scent of rain flooded the room and for a brief moment the world was a vibrant shade of green. As the color faded the room around them had changed. Valon, Nadeshi, Bebe, and Esther no longer stood in the perfectly clean dining hall in Sheru Drakan but in a tight, dark chamber lit by a pair of torches mounted by a doorway. Valon motioned for the group to follow and began towards the door, a pair of guards in chain armor appeared out of the darkness to snatch the torches to lead the way. Valon didn't speak as he lead his friends into the cave-like tunnel. The path seemed to slope downwards and spiral to the right. The deeper that they traveled the more the quality of the air changed. The air began to become more stale, thick, as they advanced. The scents that began to creep upwards were foul. Unwashed flesh, filth, and stale blood hung heavy in the air and grew in strength the father down the path they traveled. Several minutes passed as they descended before their path opened up into a large cavern weakly lit by bonfires and torches. Spread out along each wall were carved gateways barred by thick steel doors and bars. Tables of wicked looking tools and straps rested against one wall near the main entrance and iron chains hung from the ceiling. On the far wall stood a row of devices that looked like standing sarcophagi made of black iron. "Welcome to the dungeons. I know, not the place that any of you though that I'd be bringing you. Please trust me, say nothing, and we'll be leaving shortly," Valon gave the trio a weak smile before beginning towards the back of the chamber. Several guards seemed to appear out of the shadows among the cells to stand at attention before the Highlord. Through the bars and view ports of the cells appeared eyes, some bright with anger and others dark and broken, each set of the Lord of Dragons. Valon took no notice to his audience and swiftly advanced on a sarcophagus set deep within the stone. "Here lies one of my guests, my gift to you, in his sullen silence. A few years back there was an attempt of my life just before Sabriel was born. Before this one could get to me he was captured by Vex and Vax. We traced his benefactors back to a minor house and took...appropriate....action against them. It seemed to break his will to fight and he's been here ever since. I figured that in order to find a killer you could use a killer. Open the cell," Valon called to a guard nearby who began turning a small key in a series of locks set into the metal. The sound of grating iron and rattling chains came from behind the metal tomb wall. A brief hiss sounded and the massive front of the cell opened in the center. In the darkness beyond came a ragged gasp followed by a few rattling breaths. The guard stashed his key and entered the chamber beyond to pull a long, stout chain from the inky blackness. On the end was a man in a rough spun cloth tunic bound in shackles and more chains. The man was sickly thin, his features sharp and stark. His eyes, piercing violet in color, were wild in the light as if they had not seen light in quite some time. The guard pushed the man to his knees before Valon and pulled a rod tipped with a metal barb from his belt. "This is Vec, or that's what the guards call him. He hasn't spoken since he was taken into custody. Now, Vec, I have an offer for you. You have a once in a lifetime chance to earn your freedom. You aid my friends in finding a killer and I will let you go free, decline and you go back in the hole. Do you agree?" Vec locked eyes with Valon for a few moments. Valon met his gaze with an icy stare. After a few seconds Vec bowed his head and nodded slightly. Valon grinned and snapped his fingers as a flash of green erupted around Vec's throat. A thick band of dark metal wound around the assassins neck, set around the band were runes inlayed with opal chips. In Valon's hand rested a ring of matching material. The Highlord crossed to Nadeshi and pressed the ring onto his right index finger, both the collar and ring glowed briefly before darkening again. "Your new necklace is an insurance policy. One step out of line, one ill chosen action, and Nadeshi can activate the enchantment therein to bind your body so it will be easy to bring your back here. Don't give him a reason to use that ring if your value your freedom." Valon turned his back on Vec while the guard began the long process of unchaining him. Valon could sense an aura of unease coming from the trio and he gave them his best winning smile before motioning for Nadeshi to step to the side for a moment. "Brother, I know that I have forced a great responsibility on you here but you're the only one that I can fully trust to do this. Esther is a trusted friend, but I'm not sure she would be up to the task, and Bebe is an unknown factor. You'll have to find it in your heart to forgive me for this one day," Valon whispered before bringing them back to the assembly. Once Vec was free and the chains had been cleared away Valon snapped his fingers once again. The world turned green once again and this time as the color faded they appeared in a courtyard walled in by tall hedges. Opilia sat at the far end of the yard flanked by Vex, Vax, Honza, and Senna. Valon paced a few yards away from the group before rounding on them with a sharp spin of his feet. "The time has come. From here on you will mostly be on your own. You'll find some clothing for Vec in a basket behind you. An hour from now Isara and Sinda will be meeting you here to escort you wherever you wish. Mind yourselves as best you can, for I won't be able to promise you safe conduct from this point. Stay safe, take care of each other. Speak amongst yourselves and decide where you will begin your investigation. Sinda knows all the locations of the murders and Isara is a trusted face among most of the kingdom. Tomorrow night there will be a grand feast and ceremony where the nobility will sweat their loyalty to Sabriel. I ask that you all be there as my guests of honor. There will be other guests from the Archipelago, but they are far to well known here to seek the answers that I need. "Find the murderer as quickly as your can. My people are depending on you."
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Post by Silumas on Jul 9, 2016 10:11:30 GMT -5
The air smelled of lilac. Shadows danced against the dark walls. The night hung thickly in the halls.
She was not very old, perhaps just out of adolescence. A flick of my wrist and the poisoned needle entered her neck.
She was peaceful now.
Vec shook his head, clearing his mind from the memories. He blinked a few times and realized the door to his cell had been opened. It was the first time in months he had seen more than a glimmer of torches beyond his cell door. Despite the sickly sweet smell of rot, piss, and the odor of dozens of other unwashed prisoners, the air was much fresher here.
The shadows hide me, the guards do not see me.
A flash from my elbow, a scratch from my claw and the two guards just outside the target’s chamber are peaceful.
I open the door.
He was dragged out of his cell by the chains surrounding him. The guards had learned quickly that Vec with any range of motion was a dangerous creature indeed. They had nicknamed him Vec: vile one in their tongue. Why was clear. He was a killer, a murderer, dishonored and forsaken. Most importantly, he was alone.
His tunic rubbed his chaffed skin, his muscles ached from lack of use, but he still managed to keep upright long enough to see a group of people outside his cell. The guard then shoved him to his knees.
A blinding flash of pain struck the back of my leg. I had sneaked into a trap.
The King’s foremost guards knew I was there, if not why.
They waited for me.
I felt one’s arm break through their armor, heard the soft slick as knife bit the other’s leg. I fought hard.
They fought harder.
The Ruler of Drakengrad had not been down to see him in the dungeons since shortly after his capture. Despite his silence they had discovered his employers and dealt with them mercilessly, ruthlessly. The guards thought Vec would have said impressively. Yet, here stood Valon and a grouping of strange folk he did not recognize. Then Valon spoke.
Earning his freedom. The assassin looked into his “host’s” eyes for a very long moment. Trust was not something easily earned. Freedom less so. How could he trust this one who had kept him motionless, isolated, and locked away for so long? It did not matter. There was no real choice. Vec finally nodded and lowered his head.
Vec’s fingers wound their way around his new accessory. Valon could call it a necklace all he wanted, but Vec knew the truth of it. It was a collar, and Vec was the dangerous mutt. Starved, beaten, and then relied upon to fulfill a task only a dog could do. The assassin’s violet eyes flashed in the flickering torch light of the dungeons.
Once unchained, the assassin took a very long stretch. He did not groan or moan, the only true sound coming from the popping of joints long unmoved. His final stretch was to twist his neck from side to side and the loud cracks heard there echoed down the chambers. A single deep breath later, and it seemed the shadows swallowed the assassin again.
A flash of green and the group were in a place Vec never thought he would experience again: outside.
The breezes were soft, catching her hair and tossing it about. I thought she was perfect.
Her neck smelled of raspberries, her lips tasted of them when we kissed. I held her closely.
Her hips leaned on mine as we sat, watching children play their games across the village.
Our daughter ran with the small pack of younglings, chasing a ball.
The sun was bright, and it caught her eyes, irises of blue and green intermingled.
I am leaving in the morning, performing the sacred task of my people.
Valon mentioned new clothing for him and before many could check they would already find him changing. For anyone that bothered to notice, sickly thin was not the half of his issues. It looked like he barely received a meal a week, he was so malnourished. Dozens of scars marked his back, though whether that was from Drakengrad guards or the past life of an assassin was hard to tell. Given enough food, he would be a handsome man, tall and lean. That was a past life though. One long surrendered when he was beaten and dragged to a cell so many years ago.
His new clothes were comfortable, made of decent material and provided a modesty his previous vestments were incapable of doing. He wrapped a cloth around his head, hiding his shaggy, unwashed hair and beard. His olive skin shown only through the gap for his eyes where those piercingly purple orbs took in everything, and seemed to not miss a detail. The cloth was a dark blue color, all the better for him to hide in the shadows. He had new boots as well, padded and quiet. Valon’s people may have thought him vile and terrible, but his new outfit made it clear they understood his purpose, agreed with it even.
“Find the murderer as quickly as you can. My people are depending on you,” Valon has said, commanded.
Vec bowed his understanding.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jul 26, 2016 16:59:27 GMT -5
Esther's hand flew to her face. Her eyes had only just managed to adapt to the cavern's gloomy light, and then Valon had painted the world green and brought them right back into the glaring sun again. She passed her hand back and forth, covering her eyes one at a time, as she blinked around at their new surroundings, a grassy courtyard bordered on all sides by hedge walls and set at each of its four corners with a tower of boxwood so geometrically trimmed and so densely grown that she could have stood on top. Another tall boxwood plant in the center of the courtyard had been pared into the shape of a dragon rearing up to the sky, its body slim and spiralling, much less bulky than the – what was it? – Esther was pretty sure Isara had called it a "porter worm", the creature that had carried them to the palace. Or "wurm", probably, now that she thought of it (value 51, not shabby for four letters).
Even if her eyes were hurting, she was thankful to have escaped that hole in the palace's foundation. The fresh air and clean, summery smell were a huge relief to her senses, and there was no place out here for that heavy feeling of foreboding that had pressed on her from head to toe. The dungeons... Esther had read as much as she could about Drakengrad since getting the king's invitation – seriously sat down and read up, not just combed for words – and she knew the kingdom was old enough that it wasn't surprising to see a real medieval-style prison here. But the bad shock had been finding the dungeons still in use, even today, by Valon himself. Maybe she didn't know enough about kings, but she hadn't taken him for the kind who would throw someone into an oubliette to rot in darkness. (Value 59, much weaker for nine.) And were those breaking wheels, racks, and thumbscrews (value 108) she'd glimpsed in the shadows? Those must have been out of use for generations, right? Or maybe not, for all she knew, judging from this other man: when he unbashfully tore off his old rags to change into the new outfit, she noticed a cobweb of scarring up and down his back.
She quickly looked away from the man undressing – not that, anyway, there could be something erotic about seeing a naked body in that condition – and watched Valon again as he spoke to them. "Mind yourselves as best you can, for I won't be able to promise you safe conduct from this point..." That tired, grieved look on his face when she'd first seen him today, that face made much more sense on a king who'd keep a functioning underground dungeon than on the king she remembered parading up the streets of Shin-Ra. There was a lot to Lord Valon Lorsha she didn't know yet.
"Find the murderer as quickly as you can. My people are depending on you."
She opened her mouth and slightly raised a hand at that moment, but he had already turned away, followed by two of the armored soldiers – the "knights of transition", she thought he'd called them, one in pink-gold and the other in deep indigo. The three of them left through an oval-shaped stone arch, and except for the buzzing of insects, the courtyard was momentarily quiet.
That faerie, Thistledown, at once flew upward and did just what Esther had earlier imagined doing herself: she perched atop one of the hedge towers and glared around over the walls, obviously trying to get a bead on their exact location. The other king – Nadeshi, that was it, Valon had said it again in the dungeon – went to join his sister Opilia on a stone bench off to the side; they were soon talking in low voices, flanked by the remaining two soldiers. That left Esther standing rather awkwardly near the former prisoner, Vec. She shrank back, slightly. There were a dozen questions on her mind about him and just what had landed him in that sarcophagus (value 102), but she was too apprehensive to ask. Even if Esther had qualms about Valon's style of punishment, she couldn't pretend this thin man didn't give off a disturbing vibe. Anyway he hadn't said a word so far and she didn't guess he was about to start. He was standing with one hand clasped over the other, eyes closed (just about the only part of his face still visible beneath the swaddle of fresh dark cloth), breathing heavily but silently, head tilted upward to the sun. Probably he didn't even notice she was still there. Fine by her. If she was going to get him to speak, she'd want a strategy first.
She'd also want protection. It was lucky Valon had passed off Vec's leash onto another of his guests before leaving. Besides, with the faerie out of speaking reach, there was no one else for making conversation. Esther slipped away from the stock-still man and trod across the grass to the bench where Nadeshi and Opilia sat. She'd noticed that the purple-haired man had looked uncomfortable too, following his brother-in-law hesitantly through the stale earthen corridors (as opposed to the faerie, whose demeanor had pretty much stayed at "unimpressed, verging on impatient"). Perhaps he was a slightly different kind of a king than Valon. Not necessarily the type who'd be leading the festivities at a big joyous magical gala, but also not necessarily the type who, in the twenty-first century, would still be keeping iron maidens on retainer. She decided to test the waters.
"Your Majesty – your Majesty," she said, a little clumsily, to the sister and brother in turn, and then, "I think, someday when I have my own castle, I might pass on the dungeons..."
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Post by Loogs on Sept 10, 2016 1:23:42 GMT -5
Nadeshi regarded the prisoner with horror. While he felt no impetus to spare this man his utmost sympathy, the chains and the dungeons and the scarification seemed to him… excessive. Even his mother, whose reign ushered in a new era of extreme isolationist foreign policy after a bloody war of succession nearly tore the kingdom apart, drew the line at torture. When Valon passed the ring onto him, Nadeshi sensed the harrowing dread growing deep inside his own heart.
As always, however, he endeavored to maintain a graceful countenance for the others. Valon would have had no knowledge of this, because he’d never witnessed him in the appropriate situation, but Nadeshi had no actual need for the control ring: as far back as he could recall, he possessed through his noble draconic lineage the power to immobilize, induce fear, and even hypnotize others with his gaze. It was a gift he was hesitant to use in all but the most dire predicaments—the implications of denying another being their agency, Nadeshi believed, were profane enough to restrict its implementation.
As the scenery suddenly changed from the fetid depths of the dungeon to the splendor of the royal courtyard, bathed in the nebulous light of the gloaming hour, Nadeshi pulled Opilia aside to confer in private on a nearby bench. “Sister… It occurs to me that I may be a person who is, shall we say…” He twisted the arcane ring around his index finger in an anxious manner. “Ill-equipped…for this task.”
Opilia, incredulous, blinked a few times and brought a hand to her chest. “Nadeshi, as my brother, I know you to be a confident and capable leader, why would you say such a thing?”
“The Drakengrad court is one with a storied tradition of militaristic culture. Perhaps Valon might find my more diplomatic approaches to be inefficient in trapping and bringing a murderer to justice.” Nadeshi did not wish to inconvenience Valon by positing a philosophy that would conflict with the king’s own practices. Drakengrad was his domain, and Nadeshi would never disrespect the king by calling his stances and values into question, just as Valon would not, presumably, storm into the Kalari royal palace and brush aside his convictions as unproductive or inconsequential.
“That is not necessarily true. On the contrary, I believe Valon reached out to you because he acknowledges that you offer a perspective on which he does not have proper insight,” Opilia responded. A butterfly, fluttering about on stained-glass wings, landed gingerly on her finger. She remained still and allowed it to crawl across her knuckles.
The siblings sensed that shy young woman with the book approaching, and halted their conversation for the time being. “Nadeshi… you have a strong sense of justice and a kind heart. I have no doubts in your ability to restore peace in Drakengrad.” Opilia smiled gently and dismissed the butterfly with a wave of her hand. In unison, they both directed their attention toward Esther.
“Ahh… yes, a reasonable decision to make. In Kalar, the weather is usually so pleasant that one would not even fathom spending their time cloistered underground in cold darkness.” It was comforting to know that at least one other person in this investigation gravitated closer toward his own pacifist ideals. “Dungeons also tend to acquire very foul, noisome stenches, and I have a rather, um, sensitive… nose, so I would prefer to abstain from keeping such abhorrent breeding pools of miasma in my palace.”
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Post by Beelzebibble on Sept 30, 2016 14:59:33 GMT -5
NOISOME = 6 + 4 + 5 + 7 + 4 + 14 + 1 = 41
MIASMA = 14 + 5 + 3 + 7 + 14 + 3 = 46
CLOISTERED = 12 + 11 + 4 + 5 + 7 + 2 + 1 + 9 + 1 + 10 = 62 = 3 + 20 + 8 + 4 + 9 + 9 + 1 + 6 + 2 = ABHORRENT Esther's lip twitched. She almost smiled before she caught herself. This place was truly the gift that kept on giving: There was nobody here who didn't talk like some kind of book or another. Though, of course, to be royalty and not regularly describe things as "abhorrent" would be a terrible wasted opportunity, so she wasn't judging any more than she was complaining. She could only hope she didn't smell abhorrent to Nadeshi. She felt grubby at the moment, and her hair was probably all over the place. Bathing aboard the Redcurrant had been a little rudimentary (value 90). They would collect gallons and gallons of sea water as they sailed, then boil it in a great black iron tub down in the kitchen, letting the fresh vapor condense and trickle into buckets. Esther had quickly learned to expect a crowd around the kitchen in the very small hours of the morning, all the sailors bandying to grab the earliest buckets, clearing a path only for young Selbert to haul the first one off to Captain Mitroch's quarters. The first time Esther had turned up, leaning against the wall of the corridor that led to the orange-glowing kitchen, the crew had laughed – not the most piping and silvery of laughs, either, that she remembered – and insisted she take one of the first batch of buckets. She had gone away red-faced, and spilled a few splashes of hot water down the corridor anyway when the ship lurched. After that she had always waited for the morning rush to pass before skulking along to the kitchen and taking one of the lukewarm buckets that remained. She had been embarrassed by claiming a bucket early when she was the person on the ship doing the least work, and for other reasons. Some days she hadn't bothered at all. She was looking forward to a good hot bath up in the palace, wherever Isara Leral had sent her bag off to. Also a bed that didn't tilt. Anyway, the royals were probably too polite to let her know even if she did smell like seagulls. "Kalar sounds really nice," she said to Nadeshi, and then to Opilia: "Have you managed to go back there lately? Your Majesty? How long has it been since you moved here? If you don't mind me asking."
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Post by AngelicTragedy on Oct 16, 2016 20:39:28 GMT -5
OOC- Just thought I would add something to the proceedings before you all decide where to go. Balasar and Urhur stood apart from one another in the landing below the Highlords seat. Urhur stood at the ready with a warhammer in hand and a small shield strapped to his left forearm. Balasar seemed to be enjoying himself; his hands were clasped behind his back and his daggers were untouched on either hip. Kallista looked on in horror as the two men prepared to do battle with one another. Words had gotten heated and, despite Killista trying her best to defuse the situation, tempers boiled over to the point of violence. Once Urhur had called for his hammer Kallista knew that talk would do little good and chose to take her seat once again. "Avrae, I shall not allow you to speak your loathsome words for one more moment. You speak of treason and murder! No one shall speak such brazen words in my presence!" Urhur roared and took another step forward. "My Lord of Lenn, you mistake my words. I simply spoke of the...exploits...of my kindred. If I spoke of treason, true treason, I would not have done so here or all places. I am not a simpleton, I must remind you, and I am certain that I possess more wit than yourself." Balasar smirked and leaned forward slightly, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet. "You dare!" Urhur swung a mighty blow towards Balasars chest, a blow that could shatter stone and bone alike. Kallista closed her eyes and waited for either the sound of breaking flesh and bone or smashing floorboards, she was not sure which would be worse, but neither ever came. Kallista opened her eyes and saw Urhur frozen in the last possible moment in his swing and Balazar was held bound tight by his chains in the air just out of reach of the mighty warhammer. On the raised platform that held the Highlords seat a door stood open and the Knights of Transition strolled forward, each was wreathed in an aura of smokey grey and a hand extended towards one of the combatants. Vex, the Knight of Dusk, approached Urhur and lightly snatched his hammer away while Vax, the Knight of Dawn, drew out Balasars daggers and backed away while clicking his tongue. The pair moved to positions flanking the highseat and waited, the pair of Lords still held motionless. Theren and Yhel came next, a riot of red and orange. Theren glared daggers at each restrained noble before taking a seat on the far right of the front row; Yhel openly laughed and took her seat on the far left. Behind them came Zasza, her scar seemed to move in the flickering light, and the savage beauty Lyra simply moved between the two to take their seats in the second row. The silence seemed to thicken as the far door hung open to darkness. Minutes passed, no one dared make a sound. Finally a steady clicking of expertly made boots began to sing down the hidden hall beyond the entry. Valon stepped through into the torchlight, his expression tense and angry, as he began towards his seat. Vex and Vax dropped their hands in unison dropping the pair of warring lords with them. All the assembled nobles crisply dropped to their knees with a fist over their heart. The silence was deafening. Valon strolled to stand before his seat and was presented with the warhammer of Urhur and the daggers of Balasar. He regarded each in turn and glared at their owners before sitting. The nobles rose and sat as well, except for Urhur and Balasar, and kept their silence as they waited for the Highlord to speak. "I'd thought better of both of you," Valon began, his voice heavy. "You draw weapons in my palace, my daughters home, knowing what is going on beyond these walls? I've seen three pyres of late and I'd not like to see another any time soon. If the two of you want to gut one another after this all comes to an end, so be it, but you will hold your hostility so long as these slayings continue." Both Urhur and Balasar bowed deeply and rushed back to their seats. "Now, let us begin." Valon sighed at what was about to come.
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Post by Loogs on Mar 27, 2018 13:42:02 GMT -5
“Oh, how long has it been now… I believe we’re about to come up on ten years?” Opilia brushed aside a stray lock of plum-hued hair from her eyes and rested her chin on her hand. “Yes, we celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary recently and not long after that I arrived in Drakengrad to live at the palace. After that, I regret to admit that I did not get many opportunities to visit my family.”
She inhaled deeply, and released a slow, prolonged exhale before continuing. “The last time I was in Kalar was… It was a little over a year ago. I traveled to visit my mother, the queen. Her long struggle with chronic illness had left her bedridden and I had received the news from the doctors that her condition was terminal. I was informed that she had but a few months left to live and I… I wanted to be with her one last time before she passed.”
Nadeshi’s striking eyes widened as he listened to Opilia, with such nonchalance and serenity, recount these experiences that had once haunted their memories with grief. Perhaps it was simply her royal demeanor attempting to relay an honest answer to Esther’s question, and yet, still he could perceive a minuscule hint of uncertainty in her voice when she mentioned their mother’s death, as if she had not finished fully resolved her emotions from that fateful day.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 6, 2018 11:10:13 GMT -5
Esther drew in her lip. "I'm so sorry to hear that, your Majesty," she said. "But I'm really glad that you were able to get back there to be with her." Then an opportunity struck her. A little bit of polite cajolery here (value 81) couldn't hurt, considering she was speaking to royalty – and, more to the point, considering the favor she was about to ask. Esther turned her eyes to Opilia's brother. "And I'm sure she's really proud of your work taking up after her." A Pohatu post under 100 words? Do I hear Choobs having a wank about it?? Well, I just wanted to get a bit more character business out there, and didn't see that there was any use in padding it out with extra Esther material when the focus is on the Kalar duo right now.
Oh, who am I kidding, even for being under 100 words, this post isn't ~ F ~ U ~ N ~ enough for Choobs. I should probably have had Esther throw a leftover pheasant tikka kebab at Opilia while talking. Oh! I should change Esther's name, too, to make it a thinly-veiled riff on some soulless billionaire technocrat who serves as an aspirational figure to the worst kind of STEM kid. Henceforth her name is Malka Zilberbaum. Still Jewish!!!
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