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198 | 2021-04-08 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nVikingar Encampment\n\nHerin looked at the red glob Kolga spat onto the floor, then back at her. Dagstygg was clearly the brains of this operation.\n\"Kolga, leave us. I have something to discuss which is only for Dagstygg's ears.\" \n\nHerin didn't truly know how far he could trust Dagstygg, the vikingar chief seemed to have his own goals that didn't exactly run parallel to Herin's, but an alliance without any trust was doomed to crumble. Letting Dagstygg know at least part of his plans would ensure he didn't accidentally hamper Herin's grand designs with mindless raids or ill-planned attacks. \n\nTurning to address Dagstygg, Herin spoke to the Jarl in a far calmer tone than he had used with Kolga. \"You talk of scuttling ships Dagstygg, but what if we could scuttle not just one, but a hundred? Herin looked down at the map of the Isles that lay on the table between them, putting a finger on a large island to the north. \"Tardide Isle, surrounded by the sunken wrecks of a thousand failed conquerors. I plan to stride across their bones and burn it to the ground, would you be by my side?\""
},
{
"author": "do_69420",
"message": "Dagstygg Jarl\nVikingar encampment\n\n\"This is a good prospect. My Drengir (Warriors) stand ready. Lead and we will follow\"\n\nHe speaks as he walks out of the tent, all around, most of the warriors were busy sharpening blades, eating what was plundered in small groups and speaking in the Norð tunga (Northern tongue), or tending injuries from Kolga's raid.\n\nThe ships were in otherwhise good condition, ready to sail and scraped of barnacles to reduce drag. Dagstygg handed a man the map, and pointed to the wayfinder. The man would then rush off to speak with them."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nVikingar Encampment\n\nBefore Dagstygg could leave the tent, Herin placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.\n\"Are you insane? I don't plan to do that today! By the Tide Barer, do you have a death wish?!\"\n\nHerin shook his head. These people were truly insane, no sense of strategy or scale about them. Dagstygg had only heard of Tardide Isle but a few seconds ago, and was already trying to start a doomed raid on it. How these people survived for all these years was beyond him.\n\"Tardide Isles has broken more powerful men than you a hundred times before. We must prepare first, that's why I gave Kolga that map.\"\n\n\"On that map were marked places that support Tardide Isles with supplies, food and soldiers. We take them out, and Tardide Isle weakens.\"\nOf course, it would also send a signal to Maith that someone was planning an attack, but Dagstygg didn't need to know that. Herin's plan counted on Maith dispatching a fleet to protect his most cherished shipyard, but the more of his plan he kept secret, the better at this stage. \n\"Patience, Dagstygg, it will be rewarded.\""
},
{
"author": "do_69420",
"message": "Dagstygg Jarl\nVikingar camp\n\n\"*Of course* I did not mean today! I may be a man of war but i'm not a fool.\"\n\nThe jarl would slump back against a tree and exhale. He had been at work most of the day finalizing the camp with his clan. His hand slid over to a large bag next to him and grab a loaf of bread. And would simply begin eating the entire thing like a bread stick."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nVikingar Encampment\n\nHerin sighed, he had his work cut out for him here, but hopefully it would pay off in the end. Life was a gamble, so he could only hope his bet on Dagstygg would bear fruit. \n\"I must be off Dagstygg, but I'll leave you with some advice, from one leader of men to another.\"\n\nHerin gestured to the mass of assembled Vikingar in the camp, the warriors sharpening blades, the workers and smiths standing over their benches and anvils, and the blood-soaked raiders gathered around his sister.\n\"These are your people, you are their Jarl. You all now stand in a strange land with few allies, they need a strong leader more than ever.\"\n\nWith that, Herin began the walk back to his ship. A storm was coming, and he hoped to leave before it hit. Spending a night with these savages was not something he wished to do in this lifetime or any other."
}
] | 209 | 990 |
517.666667 | 2021-04-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "**THE FINAL JOUST**\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nGetting into a suit of armor was always one of the most inconvenient things imaginable. It was a whole ordeal, especially tourney armor, which was fitted differently than a standard suit of armor. The straps and fittings were always annoying, and this recent suit Eric had purchased was needlessly elaborate. Eric was about finished reflecting on this fact when a strap was pulled by Ser Gerwold, earning an annoyed grunt from Eric. \n\n\"Too tight?\" The young knight asked\n\n\"Too tight.\" Eric responded.\n\nGerwold loosened the strap finished getting Eric into his suit and gave a final look over, making sure no straps were missed. \n\n\"Think you'll beat him?\"\n\n\"If I didn't think I could beat everyone here, I probably wouldn't have entered the lists. But I think it's more than even. Whoever he is, he's good. Though his last opponent was a bit cocky, I'll try to avoid being over confident.\"\n\n\"We got this my lord. Your horse is ready, you'll emerge when they call out your name. They're gonna go through your titles and some added ones for dramatic effect.\"\n\n\"This is all a show, afterall.\" Eric sighed.\n\nThe criers emerged onto The Mizzen, one with the horn that signalled the start of the joust. The crier without the horn placed his hands up and slowly walked in a circle, signalling for the crowd to lower their voices. Obediently, the islander's lowered themselves to a hushed, excited chatter. \n\nThe crier cleared his voice.\n\n\"We've had a long day of jousting! Some of the best men from the Islands and the Mainland have gathered to test themselves in front of you, many were humbled. But our final two stand above the rest! Those two will now demonstrate to all of _YOU_\" He makes a grandiose hand gesture toward the crowd as they begin to cheer, he waits a moment to let them settle down so he can continue. \"...To all of YOU fair people, that they are the best of all of the contestants!\"\n\nHe paused for a moment, looking toward both entrances of the field, getting a confirmation that both the Raven Knight and Lord Stafford were ready. He got his confirmation.\n\n\"And without further ado, we present our contestants. The first on the field will be the Lord of Stormalong, Protector of South Feyshore and Astoria, the man who conquered a kingdom as but a _squire_! Lord Eric Stafford!\"\n\n_I suppose that's my cue._ Eric thought to himself before emerging onto the field, to the welcoming sounds of a roaring crowd. He put his hand up to wave back at the crowd. The horse trotted up to the starting position where Eric stopped and was brought his shield. Ser Gerwold bolted up and handed a lance to Eric who donned his helmet and took the lance. Entirely ready to go.\n\nThe crier raised his hands again to quiet the shouts and cheers of the crowd. The people obediently silenced once more, speaking in quiet, excited murmurs. \"And his worthy opponent!\" The crier said with a dramatic flourishing gesture to the other side of the field. \"The dark, illusive challenger shrouded in mystery: The Raven Knight!\"\n\nA few seconds passed as the crowd stared into the dark entrance on the opposite side of the field, the silence heightening the anticipation. And then, the roar of the crowd greeted the masked man as he walked out into view. The black scarf was still tied around his head and his black mask covered his eyes as he casually raised a gloved hand in greeting to the wild crowd. His horse was brought to his side at the starting position, already pawing the ground.\n\nA faint smile appeared on the Raven Knight's lips as his eyes locked with Eric's on the other side of the arena, and he gave a nod of greeting before he mounted his horse.\n\nEric raised his lance in salute to his opponent, leaving it raised for a few moments before lowering it just as the crier began to speak again.\n\n\"My fair people, I will not force you to wait much longer before these two titans clash! Let the final joust BEGIN!\" He shouted out as the other man blew the horn. \n\nNot a moment was lost for Eric, the horn blew and he kicked his horse into motion. Adrenaline began to pump into his veins as time seemed to slow down for him as he closed with the blurred black mass. Eric dipped his lance, aiming for the dead center of the Raven Knight's shield. The lance ended up making contact a bit high as Eric dipped his lance late, slamming into a higher part of the shield but upon contact, Eric's lance shattered into splinters while the Raven Knight's did the same thing on Eric shield, causing Eric to jolt at the impact.\n\nThe two passed each other through a mist of wooden shards that had been blasted into the air. Eric rode to his new position, came to a stop and held his hand out for another lance. The lance arrived and Eric looked down at Ser Gerwold. \n\n\"He hit hard.\" Eric said before turning his horse around and moving to the next starting position. On the opposite side of the field, the Raven Knight lowered his own shield as attendants swiftly replaced his shattered lance.\n\nWith both sides again set, the horn was blown again with the roar of the crowd following. But for Eric, the crowd's roars were dull. He was intently focused this time on hitting the Raven Knight's shield as dead center as he possibly could. The horses roared down the list and much like the first pass, the two lances were shattered. Eric was again jarred and clearly recoiled from the hit. But Eric did land his lance as close to center as possible, even leaving a little dent in the Raven Knight's shield.\n\nEric returned to his starting position, rotating his shoulder, as much as he could in the armor. \n\n\"Lance.\" Eric said, not interested in talking, entirely intent on getting back to his starting position for the next pass. On the opposite side of the field, Eric could see the Raven Knight held out his broken lance. Though his expression was hidden by his helmet, it was clear that the Raven Knight was as focused on returning to the next pass as Eric was.\n\nThe horn blew again and Eric's horse was once again off. The two closed and again, Eric dropped his lance. Though this time, his timing was near perfect with a solid hit on the shield. His lance collapsing inward and exploding down to the handle. Eric received a blow, but it seemed to be a glancing hit on Eric as he didn't jerk back as bad as he had the last few times. Instead, the Raven Knight was the one who was thrown backwards. Excited yells and cries from the crowd roared as he nearly slipped from his saddle on impact with the blow, his body tiled sharply to the side. He managed to grab a tight hold of his horse's reins to prevent his falling off, struggling to upright himself for a few moments before finally getting back into his saddle.\n\nEric's horse came to a sliding stop as Sir Gerwold bolted toward him with a fresh lance. \"You almost had him!\" He exclaimed, offering it up. \n\nEric gritted his teeth. \"Almost.\" He said, taking the lance. \"Let's finish him. Hopefully he's off balance now.\" He took the lance and brought his horse back to the start, impatiently waiting for another horn to blast. \n\nEventually, the horn blast echoed and Eric was once agains roaring toward his opponent. Eric dropped his lance, but his exhausted horse flinched and pulled away, causing the aimed blow to hit the Raven Knight's shield off center. The lance broke, but Eric received a much more direct hit from the Raven Knight.\n\nThe hit caused Eric to involuntarily throw the shattered lance handle into the air. His hand kept hold of the reins, but his body leaned back, shifting weight dramatically. The horse reared back for a moment, and Eric clung on desperately. In what felt like an eternity, Eric's horse brought the front feet back into the ground and trotted back across the list. Eric fixed his position in the saddle. But he felt his stomach drop and an anxious chill creeped over him, despite the humid island air. \n\n\n\"He almost fucking got me.\" Eric said coldly, as Ser Gerwold brought another Eric another lance. \n\n\"Almost, though.\" Ser Gerwold offered. Eric scoffed and turned back toward the list. His horse was tired, and the heat was wearing on Eric as well. He'd need to knock him out now, or Eric was going to lose the battle of attrition. \n\nThe horn blasted, and Eric dug his spurs into the horse's sides, sending it into a near gallop down the list toward the Raven Knight. Eric lowered his lance carefully, just moments before he knew he'd make contact.\n\nTime seemed to move slowly as the Raven Knight's lance quickly changed position, from what would have been a lance to Eric's chest now to hit squarely on Eric's shoulder.\n\nEric felt the impact of hitting him. The shattering of his lance.\n\nHe also felt the Raven Knight's lance slam into him. His body jerked back and he saw blue sky. He no longer felt a saddle beneath him, and he soon felt a hard impact. \n\nThe impact led to a burst of pain springing in Eric's shoulder, throbbing and the breath was knocked out of him. All of this was familiar, and for a moment he thought he was in a snow covered forest again. The roaring of the crowd was replaced by distant screams, and a horn blew. A war horn?\n\nEric opened his eyes, finding himself once again in The Mizzen. He was laying in the sand with a count just starting. He must have only been on the ground for seconds, as the sound of his horse continuing to gallop away was heard. \n\nEric grumbled, sitting up. The count faltered for a moment, and one of the criers ran over to Eric as he was climbing to his feet. \n\n\"He wins.\" Eric admitted. \"Fair and square. Give it to him.\" He said through a hoarse, frustrated voice. Eric removed his own helmet to get some air as he stood from afar for a moment, looking toward the Raven Knight. Eric gave a nod toward him.\n\nThe Raven Knight dismounted his horse as the thunderous cheers and whistles of the crowd rang in the air. Removing his helmet so that his masked face was once again visible, he raised a hand to the crowd as flowers, necklace, and other accolades were tossed in his direction amid the deafening noise. He turned to see his opponent giving him a nod, and he nodded back with a faint smile before turning his attention to the royal box where King Caderyn was sitting. His expression turned serious as he took a few steps to be closer to the king.\n\n*'This is it.'*\n\nA faint hush swept over the crowd in anticipation as the Raven Knight took out the sword from his sheath and in one swift moment, stuck it into the ground. Facing King Caderyn, the masked man kept his gaze on the king as he lowered his stance to kneel down on one knee, preparing to make his oath. He carefully removed a gauntlet, and then the other. The crowd was silent now. People's necks craned to who the Raven Knight would be revealed to be.\n\nWith one swift movement, the Raven Knight pulled away both the dark scarf that was wrapped around his head and his black mask. A collective gasp came from the crowd as his identity was revealed."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse, the Raven Knight\nTonate Proper\n\n\"I, Bastien de Lysse, claim my victory for Terresol, for the Gods of our people, and for their rightful King, Caderyn Vortigern.\" Bastien's violet eyes raised to meet the Terresolian king as his voice broke the stunned silence of the crowd. His snow-white hair ruffled over a faint breeze, but his deep, husky voice was easily audible to the crowd. With his gaze stayed on King Caderyn. \"I swear both my sword and my life to you, my King. \"\n\nThere was a brief pause as he thought to the violent war brewing in the North, threatening to invade his homeland at a moment's notice. John de Burgh and his countless men wanting to take over their land by force, leaving a violent, bloody trail that would soon reach Terresol's doorstep. Bastien had sworn to protect and serve his people, and now he was finally in a position where he could do so. Where he could actually make a difference. And King Caderyn, the true royal heir to Terresol, expressed the desire to fight as well. And the desire to win.\n\n\"Praise be to Saris and Praise be to House de Lysse. Praise be to the Rightful Royal Family of Terresol, who shall return to our shores stronger, braver, more true than any other realm.\" He stood up from his knelt position, his eyes still locked as he stood up to his tall height. \"Long may you reign.\"\n\nWild screams and cheers of applause, shouts, and other commotion came from the crowd that would have drowned out his voice had he more to say, but it did not matter. He had already said his piece. A warm, intense feeling burned throughout Bastien's body, coursing through his veins. He looked down at the ground, his mind racing. The moment felt surreal, almost as if it was a dream. But when his eyes once again met Caderyn's, the idea of an illusion was lost. As Bastien's expression turned to one of a serious, determined young man, something crackled in the depths of his eyes.\n\nAn amethyst flame."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "**Cyprien de Lysse ⚜️ The Mizzen**\n\nThe announcement came as a total shock to Bastien's father. The poor lord had been in the middle of drinking wine when he heard the announcement, and part of the liquid ended in his lungs.\nIt should've been obvious in hindsight: Bastien had come to the isles for the tournament, but Cyprien had expected him to wear the regal white and burgundy colors of his House, not the raven knight's dark armor.\n\nWhatever the reason, his son had used the reveal to great effect: he had dedicated his victory to the gods, his house, and the rightful king. A true display of chivalry, enough to make any father proud. Right now, Cyprien only wished he had known beforehand. Now he regretted having become distracted while the joust was underway.\n\nBut it he had failed to show support earlier, he wouldn't allow that now. Without waiting to see the other's reactions, he stood up and added his applause to the masses."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Mouse \nTonate Proper\n\nMouse had decided not to take sides through the joust, though towards the end there was some small hope for the Eric fella. Though, she didn't shed any tears when he inevitably lost.\n\nWith the crowd, she roared and cheered and clapped her hands until they were red and stung, and she still kept clapping as the Raven Knight's helmet was removed.\n\nShe didn't know who the young man was, nor did she have any care. When he started praising one of the men on the balcony (that *Wasn't* King Bradai, might she add) she joined a small chorus of complaints.\n\n\"Booooo! Get yer fuckin mainlander shite oot!\" She called, cupping her hands around her mouth,\"Bleedin dickhead!\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Ferdinand Chapoisson and Carac the Butcher\n\nFerdinand's mouth hung agape, he had not expected this. But as quickly as his surprise had come, he forced it out, returning to his jovial facade and applauding the young man's speech with the rest of the crowd. As he clapped for the newly-revealed knight, a small grin crossed his face. He was seated right next to one of the De Lysse's, the boy's father no less, he could surely use that to his advantage in some way. \nTurning to Cyprien and speaking over the raucous cheers of the crowd, he asked his question. \n\"Good show from your boy out there! Did you know anything about this?\" He asked in his most friendly tone of voice. An honest, friendly question from a harmless merchant lord, or at least that's what Ferdinand hoped it would be taken as. \n\nCarac, for his part, had no idea who this boy was. What the hell was a 'Duh Leese\"? But at least it confirmed what he already thought, the Raven Knight was nothing more than some arrogant Lord's son who wanted to play dress up. Bloody cocksuckers loved nothing more than putting on some impractical armor and running around to play hero. Then they got into a real fight and ended up dead. \nIf this Bastien fellow were smart, he'd do the sensible thing and retire from the battlefield as soon as possible. Live the rest of his days in moderate fame and fortune up in Araedia or wherever the hell he came from. \nBut Carac knew he wouldn't do that, Nobles were never smart enough to know when to quit."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "Cyprien de Lysse ⚜️ The Mizzen\n\n_Did you know anything about this?_\n\nThe words of Earl Ferdinand hung in the air as Cyprien weighted his answer. He could tell the truth, but admitting to not knowing what his own son had been up to would make him look clueless. Similarly, he felt as claiming he knew all along diminished Bastien's merits in some way... He couldn't explain why.\n\nIt was the grunting of Chapoisson's sombre bodyguard that reminded Cyprien of the crude reality of politics. He could not afford to look weak, let alone like a fool.\n\n\"He's my son. I never had any doubts he would emerge as the vanquisher,\" He lied."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Mizzen \n\nThe second the scarf That covered the \"Raven Knight\" Head got pulled of revealing familiar silver hair Calypso had instantly known who was kneeling in front of the king, and her jaw hit the floor, something very unusual and un-ladylike from her. It took her a moment to recompose, but how to blame her? The terresolian lady was shocked.\n\nAnd from the sounds of choking and spouting coming from beside her, Calypso deduced that she wasn't alone in her surprise. \nShe didn't turn around to check on the older man.\n\nInstead, she focused her mind on the previous jousts, replaying in her head all duel where the raven Knight had taken part. Trying to find something that she *Should* Have noticed. But she didn't. Lord Bastien had completely fooled Calypso, together with the rest of the crowd. And that notion, despite the annoyance that it brought her, also caused her lips to curl into a cat-like smile, as she started to clap, slowly and elegantly. \"Well played my lord.\" Murmured her."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Ferdinand Chapoisson and Carac the Butcher\nThe mizzen\n\nFerdinand looked at Cyprien and smiled, then lowered himself back into his chair. A vague answer, yet still implying that he was aware of his son's actions the entire time. A perfect answer for a noble from Terresol, both avoiding looking weak by implying he was taken by surpise, while still giving his son credit for his ploy. \nOf course, all that Terresolian pomp and ambiguity couldn't hide the fact he had just swallowed half a glass of wine in surprise. Cyprien was just as surprised as everyone else, Bastien truly had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes, even his own father's. \n\n\"With a boy like that, I'm sure you'd have no doubts!\" Ferdinand said cheerfully, giving Cyprien a polite smile, though perhaps a bit overly-familiar. Of course, acting overly-familiar was his goal. People like Cyprien were most frightened by others like them, other scheming nobles and plotting lords. But Ferdinand? He was nothing more than a well-meaning, if a little simple, plump Earl from a backwater is Astoria. 'Nothing to be afraid of here' his smile would say to them, 'i'm just another harmless idiot'. It was only when the knife was finally stuck in their gut that they realized they had been played, and sometimes not even then. \"Your son is a true champion, the last time I saw someone fight with that much skill was the day I hired Carac over there!\" He laughed to himself, patting the armored man standing behind him on the wrist, the only part of him Ferdinand could reach from his seat. Carac, for his part, simply grunted in agreement. \n\"You must be proud of your boy, not many could do what he did.\""
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Kirk Pinewood\nThe Royal Balcony, The Mizzen**\n\n*\"Here on business.\"*\n\n*\"Who knows if I'll have time to attend the joust?\"*\n\nThe words from the boy in the bathhouse Kirk had met earlier that day echoed through his head as he looked upon the man who said them, now victorious in the tournament. \"Sneaky.\" Kirk whispered to himself before popping yet another of King Maith's free snacks into his mouth. He thought back to the short manner with which the purple-eyed lad had conducted himself and thought it was perhaps just from being nervous and not an aversion to women.\n\nKirk looked to Dennon, who was back at his original seat following what looked like an unpleasant conversation with Bradai's sister. He was clapping with confused enthusiasm, trying to match the energy of the crowd. Kirk began to realize why. He hadn't told him about his encounter with Bastien. Dennon probably had no idea who the De Lysse's were, and judging by the reactions of nearly everyone else in the arena, he seemed to be the only one out of the loop. Just as Kirk began to wonder if this setup was intentional, another food tray came by. \"Hold on, let me make room on my plate.\""
}
] | 261 | 4,659 |
436 | 2021-04-22 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "Cyprien de Lysse | The Mizzen\n\n\"He is talented,\" He told the Earl. \"Our House prides itself in the quality of it's warriors. My father was knight of great renown, and my grandfather was decorated by the House of Vortigern in the aftermath of the Terreme conquest of southern Northwind. I am glad my son lives up to his ancestors.\"\n\nIt had always been a personal insecurity of his: never feeling like he was worthy of his father's name, let alone his grandfather's. Over the years, he'd seen the House fall into idleness and entropy, and he'd been unable to stop the slow decay. He'd even got to fear that he, Cyprien, would be remembred as the one unworthy scion that began his House's downfall.\nBut the sight of Bastien standing proud over the dust of the Mizzen gave him hope. The young man was the living embodiment of a better future, and the bight echo of a glorious past.\n\n\"Granted,\" Admitted Cyprien. \"It's been a long time since Terresol last fought a war. Skill and valour alone won't save our lands. We'll need large armies if we are to cast John de Burgh back into the north.\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Ferdinand Chapoisson and Carac the Butcher\nThe mizzen\n\nNow this was interesting. Ferdinand had no idea that Terresol and Northwind might be going to war. Astoria was far from the squabbles of the north, and news traveled slowly at the best of times.\n\"John de Burgh? Hmmm, I hadn't heard anything about border disputes in the north. Are you saying this might be a prelude to war?\" Ferdinand wrung his hands, waiting for a response. The gears in his head already turning, trying to figure the best way he could derive some sort of profit from the plight of Terresol. War was good for business after all, as long as you weren't actually involved. \n\nCarac had not truly been paying attention to what the two nobles in front of him were talking about. He was focused on identifying potential threats to his employer, however the mention of Northwind and John de Burgh caught his ear. Carac was a native of Northwind by birth, and though he had left that life behind long ago, he still felt a kinship with his homeland. \nBut what really interested him was the talk of war. He lived for the battlefield, the shedding of blood and the march of armies were in his blood. He had grown comfortable, complacent, in Ferdinand's service. If his native lands were going to war, then perhaps it was time for a change of pace."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "Cyprien de Lysse | The Mizzen\n\n\"The prelude has passed. War is inevitable. When I set sail for the Isles, De Burgh had vanquished his last rival in Northwind. I don't think the south realizes what is happening: Northwind is about to be unitied for the first time in centuries, about to become a _real_ kingdom, a _real_ power. A power hostile to the kings of the south and to the faith of the true gods.\"\n\nChapoisson could see the lord of the Grey Hills biting his upper lip. His voice had turned feverish, erratic even.\n\n\"The crown doesn't understand this. I have yet to recieve any news of troop redeployments, let alone any soldiers. They think I'm doing this out of self-interest, but they fail to realize that if that savage triumphs on the Grey Hills, then the rest of Terresol will follow. And after that, southern civilization as we know it.\nBut by the grace of Saris this is soon bound to change: the pretender Charity Lane shall be deposed for her blindness, and the rightful Vortigern line restored. I am confident the new king will do what is necessary for Terresol to survive.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nWhen Bastien revealed himself to be the Raven Knight, the Pirate King simply stood beside Caderyn Vortigern and clapped along with the crowd. Now properly standing side by side, the pair could not have looked more different from one another. Despite being in his thirties, Caderyn Vortigern was the very picture of youthly power, the height of summer. He had shaved the patchy black beard that he had come to know in Corvus and the sun shone off of his smooth, tanned face just as well as the silver raiments he wore. Under his arm was the crown Princess of Terresol who, in a very unladylike fashion, had perched herself up against the balcony's edge, her tiny yellow slippers poking out from between the stone bannisters. She and her uncle talked back and forth, shouting over the roaring applause but never looking away. This was the crowd that would sail them home. These were the crowds they had dreamed about.\n\nThe Pirate King was clad in a long black overcoat and a wide black sunhat which absorbed the oppressive white heat of the midday sun. Although his people could not see his face, they knew that he was watching them. Those that had not cheered for Caderyn had changed their tune the moment the Pirate King stood and joined in, but now he had grown tired of clapping. He had untucked the gold pommeled cane from underneath his arm, waved it in the air to signal his leave and absconded into the darkness. His speech had not been a hollow trifle and there was much business still to be done. \n\nThe King muttered something to Caderyn and the two exchanged a nod before the rest of his court departed from the royal balcony, exiting from the large double doors and into the depths of the arena. Only Olaevar, the King's scribe, remained to announce that the royal pleasure barge, The Sixteen Rings, would be escorting all nobility back to the Maith Mansion to recuperate from the day's celebration and ready themselves for the night of lively celebration ahead. The Sixteen Rings would take them up the river Galon and dock in the King's own private harbor, where it would remain the rest of the night for the pleasure of those aboard."
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**King Dennon Bigsby and Kirk Pinewood\nThe Royal Balcony, The Mizzen**\n\nAs the balcony cleared, Dennon strolled back to where Kirk was standing. \"Well, that was interesting.\" The former knight commented after a full tournament of jousting.\n\n\"I suppose I can cross 'enchanting prose' off my list of potential reasons why Lucrezia seems to love you.\" Kirk said sarcastically, setting down the plate of snacks he had been eating.\n\nThe king shook his head dismissively at his friend's mockery. \"I don't know what you want me to say. The mystery knight reveal wasn't exactly a shock for me.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Kirk asked, tilting his head, perhaps having underestimated Dennon's awareness of the situation. \"Did you know who it was beforehand?\"\n\n\"The opposite. I don't even know who he is after the helmet removal.\"\n\n\"Do you know who the De Lysse's are?\"\n\n\"I suppose in the sense that I've heard the names of a lot of noble families in recent years.\"\n\n\"Well, you're about to send a mercenary army North to aid the homeland of the woman your wife made me marry. The De Lysse family happens to own the Grey Hills, the land your army will be marching through at the border of Terresol and Northwind.\"\n** **\n\n\"When did you become an expert on foreign politics?\"\n\n\"Lucrezia has been having me sit in on council meetings since the wedding... Council meetings which you are also present for?\"\n\n\"After a few years, they start to blend together.\"\n\n\"It worries me that you think that way, but we can talk about that later. Also, in your defense, Anna debriefs me about the Iron Plaines details after every meeting, so it's fresher in my mind. Anyway, it's not just about the meetings. I was going to say earlier that I ran into Bastien at a bathhouse today.\" Dennon raised an eyebrow. \"NOT THAT KIND OF BATHHOUSE.\" He said quickly. \"We talked for a while. I didn't realize that he was keeping this big secret. He said his family was here on business.\"\n\n\"Huh.\" Dennon took it all in. \"Maybe I should talk with them later. See if they're fine with the whole 'army marching through their land' thing. I guess it was a lucky coincidence that we happened to be in the same place at the same time...\" He trailed off before his eyes widened. \"Ohhhhhhh.\"\n\n\"Shhhhhh.\" Kirk cut him off. \"We are still in the *Isles,* After all.\" He pointed to his ear and then spun his hand around to point in every direction.\n\n\"I'm starting to doubt that Bradai invited us just because he thought we were cool.\"\n** **\n\n\"Is that reveal *More* Of a shock for you?\" The king didn't answer. \"Look, I don't really know what's going on either. We can enjoy the ball. Just try to behave as though everyone else knows something you don't.\"\n\n\"The barge did sound fun. I'm glad I we won't have to ride back in that traffic.\"\n\n\"Wait, are we not going back to the carriages first?\" Kirk asked in surprise.\n\n\"Who's the one not paying attention now?\"\n\n\"There's a very important difference between the two situations!\"\n\n\"What's the big deal?\"\n\n\"It's just... I left something in the back of mine.\"\n\n**. . .**\n\n**Kirk's Carriage Driver\nAn alley near the Mizzen**\n\nTorgo held his face in his hands as the money was swept away. He had used the coin pouch found in his back seat to bet on the jousts of the day. He had bet nearly everything on Sir Wendel The Letdown. After losing the first round, he scrounged up a bit more money to bet on Lord Eric Stafford in the final, but the damned bird knight was victorious. Torgo's gambling was a problem. He needed help.\n\n**. . .**\n\n**Kirk Pinewood\nThe Royal Balcony, The Mizzen**\n\n\"I'm sure it will be returned to the mansion.\"\n\n**. . .**"
}
] | 299 | 2,180 |
183.888889 | 2021-04-25 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\nValkrin had sent a guardsman to find Catarina and escort her to him. If he had to rub shoulders with the nobility, he sure as hell wasn't doing it alone. \n\nBy the time she arrived, he'd already given his men their orders, and the two started their way towards the barge. He told Catarina of his dream, sparing no detail, and extended his arm for her to take as they walked to the barge. \n\n\"What do you make of it, Ms. Tanner? I haven't dreamt in years, but I haven't had a dream like that in my life.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nHer meeting with Noma had put her in a good mood, though she was still left wondering about the other Farensun that he had spoken of. A relative of Valkrin's, perhaps? She was tempted to ask him, since he had never spoken of any family before, but brushed the thought aside. The less they knew about each other's personal lives, the better.\n\nShe listened quietly as he told her all about his dream, draping her hand on his arm as they walked along together. Her mind was buffeted like a ship in a stormy sea, each worry and thought yet another wave crashing against the hull, demanding to be heard over the others. \n\nHer brow furrowed slightly as he recounted the dream, finding the fact that he had dreamed of her rather disturbing. In her culture, dreams were a means of communication with the gods. Typically, a dream like this would be taken to the grand matriarch, who would interpret all the signs and symbols within. Cat herself did not have that level of experience to fully interpret a dream such as this, but what she saw in it set her on edge... \n\n\"I think it means you're intimidated by my sheer strength,\" She replied lightly, the glib tone undermined by the worry etched across her face. \"My thunderous bellowing and sharp tongue will soon have you at my beck and call.\" \n\nYet, she knew there was more to the dream than that, and try as she might, she couldn't shake it."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\nA smile formed on his face as she spoke of her thunderous bellowing, and Valkrin let out a chuckle. \"Aye, it's true. Men far and wide already sing your tale, of how you tamed The Branded Captain with naught but your incessant whining.\" \n\nHis left hand held his breastplate, with her hand draped in his left elbow. As they walked, Valkrin found himself crossing his arms, so that his right hand rested on top of hers. \"I've heard rumor there's to be some sort of ball at the mansion. Maíth never informed me of anything of the sort, but if it's true, I'd be honored for a dance Ms. Tanner.\" \n\nShe'd lied to him about her interpretation of his dream, but he'd get the truth from her eventually."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nShe smiled slightly at his retort, a sharp reply forming on her lips but dying away as yet another wave of worry washed over her. She just couldn't quite shake it, though hopefully the festivities would soon distract her and she could forget all about his dream. \n\nThe bangles in her ears shook slightly as she looked up at him and replied in an aloof tone, \"I suppose I could indulge you.\" She smirked and added, \"After all, I might be the only dance you get all night. You have this way about you that intimidates people, for some reason. Though, of course, you'll have to work to keep me, Captain, since I'm sure I'll get many more offers to dance.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\n\"Who says I had hoped to dance with anyone else?\" Valkrin turned his head so he could look into her eyes. \"And there's no doubt that as the prettiest woman in the Isles right now, you're sure to have every man in the room at your feet tonight. Myself included, given you tap into that bellowing of yours.\" \n\nAs they walked, guardsmen communicated with him using hand signals to identify any suspicious activity or personnel. He gave orders without ever opening his mouth, useful for dealing with crowds. \n\n\"And besides Ms. Tanner, you've never danced with a man like myself, who says you'll ever want to stop?\" He used his elbow to tap her arm at his joke."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nShe opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it... She looked a bit out of water for a moment, floundering at the random compliment and the intensity of his gaze. It was like she had suddenly turned into a rock and sank straight to the bottom of the sea. He wasn't supposed to give compliments! Their dynamic was purely one based on insults and ribbing, and rightfully so! What would Alofen think? A man like this didn't-\n\nHer thoughts were interrupted by Valkrin's joke, and she relaxed slightly after that. Everything was normal and right again.\n\n\"Ha,\" She retorted, \"An oaf like you is simply going to stomp all over my toes. I'll be eager to dance with someone more graceful and charming.\"\n\nThe words were a bit more cutting and harsh than she had really intended, but she needed to regain the normalcy of their dynamic. She needed to push him away."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\n\"I lost my eye in Carmine Bay, and my charm somewhere between here and Terresol.\" Valkrin paused for a moment to scan the crowd, before turning to face Catarina, taking her hands in his. \n\n\"But I assure you, my dear, I've not lost any ability to dance. Your toes are in no danger.\" Valkrin was waiting to for all the other nobles to be onboard the barge before he'd board himself. \n\nBetween watching the crowd as nobles passed, he found himself stealing glances at Catarina as the two spoke, and realized he'd never let go of her hands."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\n\"I somehow find that hard to believe,\" She replied rather curtly, extricating her hands from his. Were her palms sweaty? Perhaps it was just the heat of the Isles getting to her. \"A man such as yourself is not above lying, or anything else for that matter, so I'll believe it when I see it.\"\n\nShe turned from him then and continued on towards their destination, her mind reeling. That dream really must have gotten to him! All of a sudden he was all touchy-feely, and she had no idea how to deal with any of it. \n\nAlofen's face floated into her mind's eye, and with it, all the awful things Valkrin had said of her husband echoed through her mind again. How the two had hated each other... Was she really so far gone? To work for a man of such low integrity and morals? Alofen would have been furious with her. And what would Mireli think if she knew what her mother was doing now? \n\nHer lips pursed into a thin line whose color was only held by the heavy stain of makeup."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\n\"Then I suppose you'll have to see it.\" He walked behind her, catching up to her in a few strides. He lit a cigar and puffed on it as they walked. \n\nValkrin remained silent, his only communication was with guardsmen as he passed them, informing them to keep their eyes open, and their hands out of the noble's pockets."
}
] | 163 | 1,655 |
250 | 2021-04-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\n\"You're arriving with the most dangerous man in the Isles, if not the world, the others won't give a second thought about anything you do. Balls are more about the conversations in private, than the actual events.\" For the first time in years, Valkrin was having trouble finding the words to speak to this woman. His head was pounding though he didn't show it, he simply removed his glass eye and slipped it into his pocket, relieving some of the pressure in his head. \n\nHis dream of Catarina beneath that tree, in the valley he grew up in, was the only thing he could think of. Where his mind's eye typically saw violence and death, he now saw her, draped in the beauty of the stars.\n\n*Why this woman? None of the others did this.* A constant barrage of questions flooded his thoughts, drowning out most of the noise from the crowd. *You're mad, Farensun, it's a godsdamned fantasy. What? You think you'll just have one dream and forget what you are? She's a woman, you're an animal. You don't get the girl, not after the things you've done.*\n\n\"You'll have to forgive me Ms. Tanner, I don't feel like myself. Hopefully Maíth's wine collection fixes that.\" He stuck the cigar in his mouth again, an excuse to be silent."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\n\nIt was well past midday, but the streets were still flooding with people, some working, some out to follow on their daily chores, and those with too much time in their hands just walking around to simply enjoy the day. But one thing was tying all these people together today, the tall of the town. A name that was being passed from lips to lips like a delicious fruit, everyone wanting to get a bite out of it, and to Calypso's dismay, she was forced to listen to the constant gossiping that was surrounding her employer's name. \n\nBut what was to expect? Many had fallen in love with the mysterious figure of the Raven Knight, it was only logical that their infatuation would follow through after the revelation, add to the equation a powerful and moving oath of loyalty and voilá you got yourself a new folk hero! But if Calypso had to hear yet another rime about the \" Dark knight with the pure heart\" She was soon going to have to punch someone. \n\nThe terrestrial lady had escaped the castle for the very same reason, with Lord Cyprien under constant assault from well-placed matrons of the high society demanding that the young man would meet their daughters, and Fleur finally asleep after much needed convincing, Calypso had caught the opportunity to went out into the shrouds, suggested to her by one of the maids, to try to find a fabric that could ease her suffering from the heat. \nShe had greatly underestimated the heat of the isles, and even her lighter summer garments felt like heavy cloaks under the scorching sun. \n Even now, hiding under her translucent veil, dressed in a cobalt tunic one of her lighter ones that usually would wear only on extremely hot days back in Sol, Calypso was suffocating."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nSomehow, him saying that she was arriving with the most dangerous man in the Isles, if not the world, was not a comforting one. Hopefully others wouldn't be intimidated and she would find others to dance with. As for conversations in private? Well, she doubted she would have any of those. Sure, perhaps for nobles those were common occurrences, with all their damned slithering about. The snakes. She had respect for Charity Lane and others like her, but many others she had seen. And her first ever encounter with a noble...\n\nShe grimaced slightly and shoved the thought away. At least Mireli had come of that, and she loved her more than anything in the world. Hopefully Miri knew that... \n\n\"Hopefully you don't get too drunk and make a fool of yourself,\" She replied coolly. \"If you do, you'll have to find your own way home. *I* Certainly won't claim you.\"\n\nShe glanced up at him, adding, \"Should probably put your eye back in. You're scaring everyone.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper \n\n\"My handle of the drink shouldn't be your worry.\" Valkrin slid the ball of amber colored glass back into it's socket, blinking a few times to adjust it. \n\n\"They can be scared all they want, glaring at me like my very existence is heretical.\" Valkrin was well aware that this was true, but hated the way people stared."
}
] | 263.5 | 1,000 |
449.384615 | 2021-04-28 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion\n\nBastien was not too overtly fond of being stared at. Perhaps he should have considered that, before wandering out into the streets after he had won a huge jousting tournament.\n\nOriginally, he wished to simply take a bath and rest in bed before the impeding, dark looming cloud of a large ball enveloped him. However, after he had taken his bath (in Maith mansion, thank the gods, not in a bustling bathhouse) and was glistening clean, donned in his airy white shirt and light brown pants, he turned to Claude with a frown.\n\n\"Pie,\" He said gravely.\n\nClaude's dark eyebrows rose slightly, as his eyes flicked from Bastien, to the other side of the room, then back at Bastien. \"Piiieeee,\" He repeated slowly, with a nod. It was clear he had no idea what Bastien was talking about.\n\n\"Yes.\" Bastien crossed his arms, a frustrated look on his face as he glared down at the floor. \"I'm craving a pie.\"\n\n\"Ah. I thought-\"\n\n\"I didn't ask what you thought.\" Bastien went over and grabbed a small, heavy coin pouch, tying it around his belt before putting on his boots. \n\nClaude seemed unbothered, even slightly amused, at Bastien's curt reply. His lips curled into a grin as he watched her employer prepare to depart. \"You're serious about this. You're going out. For pie.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Bastien said, narrowing his dark indigo eyes at the uniformed man. Claude knew how vicious Bastien's sweet tooth could be. \"Do you have a problem with that?\" \n\nClaude shrugged casually, a smile still on his lips. \"I mean, you'll garner a lot of attention. Why not ask a servant to bring some pie to you? Maybe a pretty lady will bring it.\" He clicked his tongue twice, wiggling his eyebrows as he gave Bastien's arm a light nudge with his elbow. \"Maybe you'd get a side of-\"\n\nHis sentence was cut off as Bastien sharply cuffed the back of his head.\n\n** **\n\"Aaaaah, that hurt~!\" Claude said, though he didn't sound too bothered as he rubbed the back of his head. \"The abuse I put up with for this job is unbelievable.\"\n\n\"Keep talking,\" Bastien said as he opened the door to his room. His eyes glittered dangerously. \"There's plenty more where that came from. Stay here and watch my things.\"\n\nAs Bastien walked away, Claude watched. When the former disappeared out of view, the latter let out a faint whistle under his breath, a grin on his face. Those pants looked quite nice on Bastien.\n———\n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nBastien regretted going out about three minutes after he had left the Mansion. The streets were lively and bustling with people. Despite the numerous vendors selling foods, pastries, and the like, he had yet to find a pie. Eyes traveled him everywhere, and at least thirty people had asked him, \"Are you the Raven Knight??\" To which he gave a flat, \"No.\"\n\n\"But ye look lik'im,\" The little girl said, the latest bother. She was cute in a scraggly way, her dark braids messy and unkempt. She licked her lips, showing off her two front missing teeth. \"Yer hair be weird, like 'ims. An' yer asent.\"\n\n\"Yes, I get that a lot,\" Bastien said, his voice deadpan as he glanced around. Still no pie in sight. A blue cobalt dress caught his eye in the corner on his left. One of familiar color and style. *'That's odd.'* He looked back down at the little girl. \"Have a good evening,\" He told her.\n\n\"Yea, okay,\" The little girl said, sounding like she didn't believe a word he said about not being the Raven Knight. She turned away, and Bastien looked around. The cobalt dress was nowhere in view.\n\nWith a sigh of defeat under his breath, he glanced both ways and then went left, heads turning to gaze at him. He ignored them. Perhaps there was pie in this direction. Though, now that wasn't the only thing currently on Bastien's mind."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\n\n\"300 golds\"\n\n\"150,\" Stated Calypso firmly, not even looking up at the old woman.\n\"You keep getting lower!\" Shouted in exasperation the merchant .\" This is not how negotiation works lady!\" Scolded the old woman pointing a fat finger at her face. Calypso expression didn't betray any emotion other than that of pure boredom \"I'm just offering you to pay the actual value of your merch.\" Stated the terresolian lady while passing the soft fabric between her manicured fingers, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger, examining the green cloth with cautious onyx eyes.\n\nA large smirk stretched the coral lips of the older woman\" You know dear, you do not have to feel ashamed if you don't have the money to pay. \" Purred her with a mischievous glim in her eyes\" We can surely find a compromise...\" Calypso felt her pride sting at that comment. \n\n\" Your earrings for example! \" Exclaimed her jovial, Calypso's hand flew to her left ear, covering the jewel, like if she was afraid that the merchant would rip it from her lobe \" They will surely be more than enough to cover the cost of the fabric!\" Smiled the woman, a smile that radiates greed and satisfaction in having pinned the younger woman. Calypso did her best to not frown, maintaining that bored and distant expression.\n\nTo speak in all honesty, Calypso had the money, but she also had limited resources. Most of the clothes and jewelry she owned were previous to her father's death, who had left her a small fortune, but she never touched it, leaving it for emergency... Or as a dowry. \nSo she was left with the salary that lord De Lysse was paying her for day-to-day life. Which was by no means low but not enough to sustain too many luxuries, and Calypso had already had to make a big purchase in light of the ball. The purse was tight right now."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Mizzen, Tonate Proper\n\nShe nodded slightly at that, and after that, she fell silent. It was a bit of a strange silence, somewhat stilted and stiff in the sense that she was still uncomfortable with some of the things he had said. Typically, the two of them were constantly bickering and bantering, with many a sharp word slung between the two of them. Now it was quiet... Yet it was not the sort of silence where they were both waiting for the other to say something, so in that sense it was a comfortable silence. A silence that she didn't want to end.\n\nThe walk remained uneventful after that, and finally they arrived. Her heartrate quickened slightly as they approached the door, her hands getting a bit clammy and sweaty. She was, most certainly, out of her depth here."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "Cyprien de Lysse | The Mizzen\n\nThe king announced his guests would be return to the castle aboard a pleasure barge, and Cyprien thought it could not arrive a moment too soon. Bastien's grand reveal turned out to have the unpleasant consequence of drawing the attention of every highborn matron in Tonate. Now a swarm of cockatoos had gathered around Cyprien, pressuring him to arrange a meeting between Bastien and their daughters. As if.\nThe hier of House de Lysse was beyond their league. Tonate could a be magnificent city of rustic buildings and colored roads, but the Isles remained a distant backwater tucked in the very edge of the world. Besides, the puny dowries they offered were not even enough to purchase a cohort of mercenaries.\n\nThinking of soldiers and dowries made Cyprien recall his father in his later days. Old, sitting in his study, covered in a velvet blanket that the man later ordered to replace for one of his war banners. _\"A man is not rich unless he can raise an army at his own expense,\" _ he used to say. Cyprien had interpreted it as an advice on the importance of wealth, but with every passing decade he was less and less confident of having learned the right lesson. The fortune of the Grey Hills for instance, had not proven enough to convince the populace to enlist. In the end, the House had to ressort ot forced conscription. By comparaison, John the Burgh didn't need a fortune to raise his legion, only that ever-present aura of fear that makes the regalia of tyrants.\n\nNo. The true test to his mettle would be in the upcoming ball. Negotiating with Caderyn and the King of Ibethiel, perhaps even Maith as well.\n\n\"Go fetch our present and bring it to the castle,\" He told one of the servants. \"And be sure it gets there before the King's barge,\" He whispered him."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nMaíth Mansion, Tonate Proper \n\nValkrin scanned the entrance to the manor, and ordered for the door guards to rotate out, keeping everyone fresh and ready. With the leaders of this many nations all together, he was sure he had his work cut out for him.\n\n\"I don't own anything fancier than this,\" He said, pointing at the dress uniform he was wearing, \"But I did have the servants bring a few of your dresses. They're in my bedroom, in the barracks. I'll have a guardsman escort you there.\" Val called a guard over and tasked him with leading Catarina to the barracks.\n\n\"Now remember, you take orders from her, not the other way around.\" As the man confirmed that he understood, Valkrin shifted his gaze to Catarina. \"Anyone gives you trouble, you come let me know immediately.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Onset of the Ball, The Maith Mansion\n\nThe Seneschal had slipped away from the festival unseen. Through the maze of tunnels beneath the Mizzen, Silas had made his way through the bowels of Tonate Proper. Under the cover of complete darkness, he had felt his way along the cool stone walls of the catacombs, passageways, sewers, bathhouse cisterns, natural caves, ladders, winding staircases, and dusty footways that he and his most trusted confidants used to navigate the city in secret. \n\nFrom far underneath the kitchens of the Maith Mansion, within the rum and wine cellars, an empty barrel shifted from it's spot in the wall. It had not been touched in many years, and even the simple jostling knocked clouds of dust from its front. Once and then twice it shifted, before with a hard kick of his bright blue babouche it lurched from it's spot in the wall. The Seneschal shifted his way through the gap arms first, spindled fingers wrapping around the barrels to slowly hoist himself into the far flung reaches of the castle cellars. \n\n_If there is one thing I can count on,_ Silas thought, pushing the empty barrel back into its place, _it is the utter incompetence of my servants._ He turned the barrel clockwise until a series of clicks set it into place. He paused a moment and looked at his hands, still finely manicured after his underground excursion, not a speck of dirt under his nails. He dusted his hands off on his pants, and then with his clean hands, pat the dust from his thighs, smoothed out his longcoat and pants, cracked his knuckles, ran a hand through his long, dark hair, smoothed out his teeth with his tongue, and slid the back of his fingers down his chin and neck to check for any unruly facial hair.\n\n\"Perfect.\" The Seneschal smiled a wide and toothy grin, placing his hands on his lapels and tugging at them, unsheathing the parasol from the latches on his back and kicking open the door to the kitchen inferior. \n\n\"WHY HAVE NONE OF YOU MOVED THE LIQUOR REQUIRED FOR OUR MAJESTY'S GRAND FESTIVITIES? I HAVE BEEN TO THE BACK OF OUR CELLAR TO DISCOVER, MUCH TO MY CHAGRIN, THAT NARY AN AGÉD BARREL HAS BEEN REMOVED! DO YOU ALL SEE FIT TO SERVE THE MENAGERIE OF KINGS AND DUCHESSES OUR NEWEST AND MOST NUBILE OF WINES?\" \n\nSilas' staff, who had in no way been expecting for their master to return so early and from so orthodox a door, took a moment to register his entrance. \n\n\"Have I...\" Silas slowly began to clasp his hands, \"Misspoken? Please, someone, if I have misspoken, please do speak up.\" \n\"Yes Seneschal!\" The all replied, setting about to remove the oldest barrels of rum and wine from the cellar. \n\nThe Seneschal would kick open a number of unexpected doors in the time that the many guests rode the pleasure barge towards the Royal Estate.\n\nHe stopped off in the kitchen superior, to watch the preparation of the appetizers that would be set aside for the guests that evening. A large selection of fruit had been planned, to show off the natural bounty of the Isles. A copious amount of rambutan, mangosteen, lychee, a great variety of melons and mango, coconut, banana and twelve whole pineapples were to be cut, chilled within the ice boxes and set out for the guests within the gardens. A variety of imported cheeses, oysters, mushrooms, and freshly sliced raw fish would accompany them. \n\nBeyond the kitchen superior were the bakehouse and smokehouse, which to his surprise were moving with some spirit of efficiency. The bakers had already produced fifty sizable loaves of bread and when the Seneschal ordered the number doubled, they replied positively. The livestock they had imported from Cloverhold were been slaughtered beyond the sight of the guests. They had been able to bring the fowl and hog corpses in through the door, but the entrance to the smokehouse was not wide enough to accommodate the great horned cattle. The Seneschal ordered that fire pits be constructed and that they be roasted during the festivities, in time for the main course.\n\nIt was the other sort of animals that gave him more issues, however. The Keeper of the Royal Menagerie was hesitant to bring their animals to the festivities. The black and white striped horses they gave up readily, along with the large lizards, peacocks, yellow crested walking birds and a swarm of tinier walking birds, who were trained to clap for the many buckets of flying fish that the guests would use to feed them. Although Silas found the display charming, he was disappointed to find that they would not lend him the great cats he had requested. They would not lend the king their tigers nor their leopards or their great Amorothi lion. The elephant was apparently out of the question. They offered instead twelve snakecharmers and a caged black jaguar which as they put it: \"Would not trample or maim your noble guests.\" Begrudgingly, Silas accepted the terms.\n\nThe bardic troupe that he had requested was more unruly than the animals. He had found them rutting in a well to do tavern in the Redwall District, drinking and howling like jackanapes. The one that was supposed to play the Creepy Skeleton Lord had been standing on a table, drinking from a frothing tanker and grabbing a hefty barmaid with his long pale fingers, pulling her into the table top. The Seneschal watched as the mummer tipped his head back and spilled the swill down his gullet, before the wench tripped and sent them both tumbling onto each other. It would have been humorous if not for his broken nose, which had bloomed so greatly that it showered everyone in a mist of crimson. Three drops of the fetid discharge had landed upon the back of his palm, and he had forced himself to act disgusted. In his mock-horror, the Seneschal had briefly revoked the contract with the caravan driver, but cooly reconsidered and proposed that they renegotiate their agreement, adding to the list that they remain sober until after their display and that the mummer for the Creepy Skeletal Lord be replaced with someone who was not bleeding profusely. When they produced his understudy, a boy no older than fifteen, Silas offered that they swap placed with the mummer for the Unruly and Rather Horny Brother. At risk of losing the contract, the playwright relented and ordered that they all must relearn their lines or risk exile by the King of the Isles.\n\nSilas was standing in the Water Gardens when he spied the pleasure barge, His Sixteen Rings, sailing into harbor. Behind it was the royal flagship, the Leviathan Quay carried in the King and his court. The pleasure barge was kept out in the bay while the Quay docked in the marina, before also being brought into shore. From underneath the shade of his parasol, the Seneschal placed a thinly rolled cigarette between his lips and lit it with his finger. He sucked on it hard, and the paper peeled away so rapidly to reveal a column of smoking ash. It hung from the side of his mouth as he looked down at his assistant. \n\n\"Have I been clear with you as to your aims with Lady Kolgrim tonight, my young Puckgordon?\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nIt took him roughly thirty seconds to once again locate the cerulean dress. Its wearer was at a cloth vendor, shifting a piece of green fabric between her fingers. The thin veil covering her face blurred her expression, but the greedy smirk on the old vendor's face made him stride over despite his better judgement. As he approached, the woman's pale eyes flicked over to glance at him before turning back to the cerulean woman, then she did a double take, her eyes growing wide.\n\n\"Are- Aren't you the...\" The smug smile was wiped from the vendor's, now replaced with shock and curiosity. Bastien did his hardest not to show his irritation at how loud her voice was. \"You're the man who won the joust, aren't you? De Leased?\"\n\nThough annoyance at the mispronunciation of his surname itched to be expressed, Bastien kept a neutral expression as he turned to Calypso, who was for some reason holding her left ear as if it was about to be swiped off. One of his dark eyebrow rose in silent questioning, before he turned back to gaze at the racks of fabric on display.\n\n\"Hmm...\" He reached over to feel the one Calypso was grasping, his long fingers close to hers. A tsk escaped his lips. The quality, while nicer than others, was mediocre. As was the color. Red would be nicer, he thought. A deep, blood-red color. Though he didn't say anything directly, he gave Calypso a look that clearly stated he was unimpressed with the choices.\n\n\"Come with me,\" He said, taking a step back from the booth and merchant with her mouth still agape. He extended his arm, bending it so that she could place her arm in his. He was tempted to scold her, for being outside with no supervision and no guards: the perfect target for thieves or ruffians. However, remembering that his sole purpose for venturing out was for pie, he kept his mouth shut and simply looked down at her, arm still extended."
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon Snæch\nThe Maith Mansion\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Came a simple reply. After his little bout of panic from losing a tooth, Puck was practically calmed by the stress of the Festival, and all its little working gears and cogs. It gave him something else to pay attention to. On the way around as the Seneschal's shadow, he had picked his little snake back up, letting it sit comfortably around his neck. It never did tighten, or panic and strike. In fact, he was nearly mistaken for a snake charmer until Silas had put a hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the little circus. \n\nThe little iridescent serpent slithered around Puck's ear as he stood slightly behind Silas, watching the sea. \n\n\"Take her out to the gardens and show her 'round. Perhaps even go shooting.\" He repeated, his eyes remaining trained on the soft waves glimmering in the setting sun.\n\n\"I don't know why it ought to be me. Shouldn't there be someone... Uh. Taller? With all his teeth?\" \n\nPuck was, actually, quite a pretty boy. Part of that was the reason everyone was always taken aback by his ferocity. He did happen to be self-conscious, though."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\n\nWhile holding the fabric Calypso's mind was tracing a meticulous plan on how to get that fabric at a lower price. It was dishonest, and it was low, but it also would save her a lot of money witch, in the end, overshadowed all the moral cons, not that she would have listened to them anyway. So armed with her best cutthroat smile Calypso prepared to shoot her shot.\n\n*\"You are the one the man who wan the Joust!*\"\n\n\"Eh?\" Was all that she could utter before turning around and, yep, there he was. Bastien was standing right behind her, towering over both of the women, as eyes examined the merch on display, silent exempt for the low humming. His face was grave and unreadable as always, but Calypso could see a trace of judgment as he lifted his eyes on her. \"M-my lord? \" Stuttered Calypso, the iridescent blue veil pressed against her features as she looked up at him. She opened her mouth to say something else but got interrupted again as Bastien lifted his bent arm towards her and his words felt more like a command than a request. \n\nThe terresolian lady offered him a puzzled look, \"I-\" Started her turning her head to look at the merchant who was still starting at Lord De Lysse as if Saris themselves had manifested in front of her, which brought a small smirk on her lips. *Not so cocky anymore uh?* Calypso turned around offering the nobleman a smile and a shrug \" I suppose I do not really have a choice on the matter do I?\" Remarked her, polite but cutting while wrapping her arm around the one that was being offered to her \"Lead the way my Lord. \" Before departing, Calypso shoot one last glance at the woman behind the stand, her earrings jingled with the movement, as she offered a venomous smile to the woman\"Best of luck with your business madam. You'll need it. \" And turned around following after Bastien, head high and pride restored. \n\n\"For your information, I had everything under control.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Seneschal Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens, the Maith Mansion\n\n\"You are the perfect person, Puckgordon. And if you're ever to learn to be a competent Lord, which is what your father sent you to become, then you will have to learn how to comport yourself around nobility. I've known many lords to not have a full set of teeth, and they are respected just the same. The King has three golden teeth, and more if you count the ones he's stolen over the years.\" The Seneschal removed the cigarette from his mouth to chuckle. He kept it so still in his hand that the ash did not crumble from it's base.\n\n\"Besides, unlike the rest of my staff, you have a genuine desire to please me.\" He gently set the cigarette back between his lips. \"Do make sure you actually enjoy yourself tonight. There will be a variety of activities to undertake. I hear there will even be a melee. I thought that after a long day of running around, watching pleasantries and horseback riding you might actually want to see someone get their head caved in.\" \n\n\"I know I do,\" He muttered under his breath."
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon\nThe Water Gardens, The Maith Mansion\n\nNow, out of anyone in the world, Puck did in fact want to impress and please Silas the most, but he still couldn't hold back a somewhat disrespectful scoff at a few of the things Silas had said. He crossed his arms, tilting his head back to watch the clouds traipse across the tropical sky.\n\n*My father didn't send me here to be a Lord. He sent me here to be rid of me.*\n\nHe didn't think it out loud, but he was assuredly thinking of it. It would be an insult to the King if it was announced to him. To this day he was always surprised by how he actually was accepted into the mansion in the first place. A Melsi, not even the eldest of his family. Simply a scary little swamp rat. He sniffed the air and looked over at Asgarov with minor contempt. \n\n\"I'd like to bite that bastard's other ear off.\" He said shortly. \"Make him nice and even.\" \n\nHis silly mutterings were truly just a way to get his mind off of his father and his role here. \"Do I hafta squire for someone else, now, too?\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens, The Maith Mansion\n\n\"No. Within these walls, you are my assistant, and you answer only to me. I run this household and I look after the King, and you will look after me. So I only ask that you accomplish your tasks with Lady Kolgrim sometime before the sun rises tomorrow. Between then and now, you may see fit to do whatever you like. Take a nap and a shower, if you must. Tonight will be nothing short of eventful, and I'd like it if you were running around unkempt.\" \n\nSilas plucked what remained of the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it into the bushes. He pursed his lips as he considered handing one over to Puckgordon. He decided against it. \n\n\"Do be a lamb, my young Puckgordon, and summon the King's welcoming party. I'm sure that Captain Farensun is milling around the barracks somewhere. As much as I would _love_ to have to clean up yet another unruly assas—\" He coughed as he remembered who he was talking to, \"Tell him that the King has arrived and put that old man to work.\""
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon\nThe Water Gardens, The Maith Mansion\n\nPuckgordon sighed a little. He was shoved into the squire position when he got here, so having a new job was satisfying as well as unusual for him. He straightened his collar, the snake taking advantage of it to slither down his arm. Puck reached out and allowed the snake to lick the air, swiveling it's body around the general area. \n\nHe furrowed his brow at Silas. \n\n*Clean up an unruly ass?* He turned a little pink. Well, he assumed the Seneschal was into that sort of thing, but to have him say it so freely was... Uncomfortable. \n\nHe cleared his throat and nodded. \"Right. Valkrin.\" He said shortly before turning his back and walking stiffly toward where Asgarov asked.\n\nMore like *Ass*Garov. Puck smirked to himself about his own little joke."
}
] | 268 | 5,842 |
366.5 | 2021-04-29 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nBarracks, Maíth Mansion \n\nValkrin sat at his desk, just a table outside of his bedroom in the barracks, and looked over the postings and rotations he'd written during the joust. He'd already given assignments to the guards at the marina, and swept the mansion for any unexpected guests. \n\nFinding nothing out of the ordinary always troubled him, as it always meant he'd missed something. \"Sweep the rooms again, and be discreet.\" The guardsman at his door nodded and walked out of the room, taking the two in the hallway with him. Valkrin sat on his own, hearing Catarina shuffle about behind the door to his bedroom. \n\n\"If it isn't Asgarov's boy,\" He said as the young Melsi walked through his door, \"What was it again? Fuckgordon?\""
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon Snæch\nBarracks, Maith Mansion\n\nPuckgordon wasn't amused. Nothing irked him more than his name being made fun of. Sadly, he would be gutted if he tried to bite this one.\n\n\"Puckgordon. I'm summoning the King's welcoming party. Are you the whore going to jump out of the pie?\" He retorted, keeping his shoulders hunched and his hands rested on his hips. \"Or maybe she's behind that door?\"\n\nHe showed utter nonchalance where most would be scared stiff. He brushed off his shoulder. \"The King's arrived.\" He began turning on his heel without dismissal."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nBarracks, Maíth Mansion\n\n*Or maybe she's behind that door.*\n\nValkrin threw the table out of his way, closing the distance between himself and Puck in an instant. With one hand on the boy's collar, and the other on the belt of his pants, Valkrin threw the Melsi through the doorframe and into the wall of the hallway. \n\nValkrin stood over the boy, placing his heel on Puck's chest and applying enough pressure to make each breath burn. \n\n\"I'll tell you two things, lad. You ever imply anything like that of her again, I'll take you down to the docks. There's many a man there that ain't felt a woman's touch in years, and I'm sure they'd see a young lad like yourself as a fine replacement.\" Valkrin dug his heel into Puck's chest a bit harder, \"The other thing is, if you're going to hurl insults at men twice your size, don't turn around immediately afterwards. Always keep your eyes on your opponent, else you're just asking for your skull to be caved in.\" He took his boot off of the boy, and went back into his office to clean up the mess, hopefully Catarina hadn't heard the altercation."
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puck\nBarracks, Maith Mansion\n\nPuck felt it coming as soon as the words left his tongue, which is why he preferred to turn in case Valkrin wanted to just snap his neck. \n\nHe shut his eyes as he felt the strong grip on his collar and belt, and was only a tad surprised as he was sent through the air, and was sent back through reality as he hit the corridor wall headfirst.\n\nIt was a nasty smack, and it forced Puck's jaw to snap shut over the tip of his tongue, a few of his fragile teeth cracking from the impact.\n\nHe didn't make so much of a sound as he laid there, rolling onto his marred back only get the Guard Captain's heavy boot pressed against his chest.\n\nHe laid on hand on Valkrin's shoe as he wheezed, blood pooling in his mouth and threatening to come from the corners of his loose lips.\n\nHe expected death, so this was surprisingly pleasant in the scheme of what Valkrin was capable of. \n\nHe was hardly listening. He did smile, though, already missing teeth as he made it painfully obvious he cared very little of Valkrin's threats be they legitimate or empty.\n\nHe laid there, for a while, after Valkrin left, breathing through his nose slowly and trying to regain some semblance of focus to get off the floor. \n\nGuards passed him without thought. \n\nHe slowly sat up, finally raking account anything broken. He then slowly wobbled to his feet. \n\nA shower sounded nice. He was exhausted, and this day kept getting better and better."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nShe nodded, and a moment later she was off with the guard. Truth be told, it would take a lot for her to let him know if anyone gave her trouble. For one, she was too independent to go running to him the moment someone did something wrong. She had lived on the streets long enough to be able to take care of herself, most of the time. For another, Valkrin had a habit of overreacting...\n\nShe took her time getting ready, carefully selecting the dress that she thought was most appropriate and would look the most beautiful. Something gorgeous, yet flowy enough that she could dance largely unencumbered. Then it was all about the hair and makeup, but mostly she was just stalling for time. They had arrived early, and she really didn't want to be one of the first guests. She already felt out of place, and the fewer people there were, the more she felt it. Besides, what was the saying? Something about etiquette and it was good to arrive late. Something like that. All the nobles seemed to be inclined to it, anyway, since there really wasn't anyone around when they had arrived.\n\nLittle did she know that her stalling saved her from seeing the nasty side of Valkrin. Obviously she knew it existed, but she preferred to ignore it most of the time. It helped shield her conscience from the fact that she was working for a monster.\n\nFinally, she rose from in front of the mirror and stepped outside, rejoining the guard and making her way back to Valkrin's office."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\n\"Right. Under control,\" Bastien replied, not sounding convinced. It was rather odd, how natural Calypso's arm felt wrapped around his. Despite the heat of the day, it felt nice. He looked down at her, a hint of an amused smile on his lips. \"You were holding your ear rather tightly. Were you trying to barter it in exchange for that lackluster cloth? If so, I apologize.\" He glanced back up, away from her, back at the foot traffic in front of them, a faint smirk on his lips. \"I had no intention to interrupt you mid-trade.\"\n\nIt was good to have someone to talk to, someone whose company didn't irk him. Company to distract from the constant stares he was getting. As they walked past more booths, a few gulls crying as they glided over the sapphire waters. Bastien's eyes scanned the wares vendors displayed rapidly, hoping to find a pie of some kind. No such luck as of yet.\n\n\"What are you doing out here, with no one to accompany you?\" He asked, his eyes traveling back to her once he knew there was no pie in sight. \"Trying to tempt some poor fool into robbing you?\" Though the words were teasing, his eyes were sharp as he looked back down at her. It was clear he was not pleased to find her alone."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nThe terresolian lady bit down on the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore her wounded pride after being caught in a less than ideal situation, \"You didn't interrupt anything.\" Lied her. \" I was about to leave anyway, that woman looked anything but honest. And I'm sure I'll find something better soon.\" It irked her to feel the smirk in his voice, clearly pleased whit himself. But still, she didn't let go of the strong arm resting under her fingers, as it was quite nice to see people move away from their path, upon noticing the imposing figure standing by her side. \n\nSharp black eyes lifted on him \"Oh so you think I'm tempting, Your Grace? \" Shoot back her with a knowing smirk. Maybe she shouldn't talk like this to a man of a social cast far higher than hers, but Bastien's reactions were always priceless. She shook her head with a chuckle while giving a gentle squeeze to the biceps she was holding to, giving him a further hit to her not being serious. It was hard to communicate with the nobleman, and sometimes it felt like he was unable to read social clues, but Calypso was starting to learn how to make herself clear. \"You have nothing to worry about My Lord, I'm perfectly capable of fend for myself.\" \n\nHer eyes were scanning the nearby booths but she quickly glanced up again at the man beside her \"But maybe I should stop calling you *' my lord '* And change it to *' My Raven '* After your recent little show.\" Chucked her teasing back while fixing her veil to protect her dark eyes from the brightness of the sun. \"I'm surprised you didn't even attempt to conceal yourself to the public eye, do you maybe enjoy the attention more than you want to admit? \" Pointed out, making her tongue click."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Caderyn Vortigern\nLeviathan Quay\n\nThe sea sparkled like a thousand sapphires underneath the sunlight. Caderyn sat with an arm resting on the wooden railing of the *Leviathan Quay*'s aftcastle, staring out into the crystalline waters lapping lazily against the hull as a faint, salty breeze blew back his long inky-black hair. Even after staring at this sea for so many years, its beauty never eluded him.\n\nThe joust had been quite the event. Fleur had watched the whole affair with wonder, never having seen such a spectacle before. And with so many eyes upon her. Caderyn had smiled and given her quiet, playful commentary during its duration, but was relieved to see that no one was killed. That would not have been good for numerous reasons, but most of all he didn't want Fleur to have been subjected to something like that. He wanted her to stay his little flower, bright and curious and sweet, forever.\n\n*'It won't be long now,'* He thought, a faint sadness growing in his chest as he gazed down at the swaying water. *Soon, she is going to grow up, whether I like it or not.'* Time was often funny that way, in Caderyn's experience. Bad times seemed to stretch out, and yet the joyful ones were almost over in the blink of an eye.\n\n\"Uncle Cadey? What do you think?\" A small hand touched his shoulder, and Caderyn pushed away such lachrymose thoughts to turn and give a warm smile to his niece. His eyes widened as he stared at her, and she did a small turnaround to let him see her outfit from every angle. Her long raven hair was down but styled with intricate small braids here and there, with the largest on the back of her head being in some sort of intricate, rose-esque design. She was donned in a soft colored buttercup dress, simple and elegant and airy. On her dainty feet were her yellow slippers.\n** **\n\n\"I...\" Caderyn was momentarily at a loss for words. A small sadness bloomed in his chest, but he smiled as he raised a hand to her tanned cheek, stroking it fondly. \"You look beautiful, my flower.\"\n\nAnd she did. She looked beautiful.\n\nAnd grown-up.\n\nA happy smile appeared on Fleur's face at his approval and then she turned and, raising the skirt of her dress, promptly frolicked over to Bradai. He was a bit away from everyone else, sitting on the other side of the aftcastle with a glass in hand. Staring out into the sea. Fleur skipped over to beside him, then dipped into a fancy curtsy, her blue eyes sparkling and a smile on her face.\n\n\"What do you think, Your Majesty?\" Caderyn heard her ask. He turned to look out once more at the water, a large smile on his face at the adorable, albeit slightly forward, nature of his niece. \n\n*'Perhaps she isn't fully grown up,'* He thought fondly. *'At least, not yet.'*\n\nBastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nBastien held his tongue while Calypso made quips about him finding her tempting or how she could fend for herself. Though he knew she had the will to, she was a woman. There was no changing that fact, and it made her a more probable target for possible robbery. That, combined with her austere clothing and the fact it was painfully obvious she, like him, was a Mainlander did not help. And it thoroughly irked him that she did something so stupid as to venture out alone.\n\nHis smile lessened slightly at the mention of his escapade under the ruse of the Raven Knight. He had his own reasons for doing such a thing, but attention was not one of them. Though it was an inevitable consequence.\n\n\"'Your Raven,'\" He repeated slowly, after she had said it. An amused smile arose on his face for a few moments as he looked down at her. His violet eyes met onyx from beneath her veil. \n\n\"That's rather bold of you, Calypso,\" He said smoothly, casually, purposefully using her first name without the formalities. Knowing its effect on her. \"One might think you are saying I am 'yours.'\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nCalypso scoffed at the remark, doing her best to ignore the use of her first name \"Oh I would never make such a bold statement!\" Objected her playfully \" But you know me, modesty had never been my main trademark.\" Remarked, batting her lashes as their eyes meet. This was nice. Comfortable. If someone some, months ago, had told Calypso that she would have a friendly relationship with the same man she had desperately desired to strike right in the face after their first meeting, the lady would have laughed in their faces. \n\n\nAnd yet there they were \"Besides,\" Continued her with a small shrug \" Exemption made for you lovely sister, I don't see you walking around arm in arm and *Smile* With many other women very often... Bastien.\" As the name slipped out of her lips, she looked up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. A hint of challenge. But ultimately Calypso lowered her eyes again on the crowd surrounding them \"Apologies my lord, I'm forgetting myself.\" But there was nothing apologetic in her expression as she maintained her smug smile."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Leviathan Quay, the Maith Mansion\n\nThe bloodstone walls that enclosed the royal harbor rose high and firm from the lazy waters of the Galon River. When the Quay crossed beneath the arched entryway, the Pirate King could hear the commands of the rowers beneath him, the war drums rattling the floorboards and the table beside him. He watched as his rowers sent ripples in his goblet of rum and with the tips of his fingers he pushed it away, but he remained transfixed. It was when the drumming stopped and the surface of his liquor had settled into a golden disk that he brought it again to his lips, tipping it back and feeling it burn his throat. He was glad to be inside the red walls again. He did not want to see any more of his subjects today. \n\n He turned his gaze westward, where Byronstown had stood. He remembered his old family hall, he remembered the maze of ladders and ropes, he remembered the oystermen and the shadowy docks and the old auction hall. He had burnt them all to the ground, and in their place was a bloodstone wall that rose high and firm. But he still remembered, and there was something about that memory that made him feel like he was being poisoned. It would be nice to surround himself with nobility for a change, see how they distracted themselves in a time like this.\n\n_ \"—your Majesty?\"_\n\nBradai turned to see little Fleur Vortigern, the seabreeze blowing bright yellow dress and tousling whatever hair was not braided down. He had not heard her coming but there she was, giving him a shaky unsure curtsy on a skinny pair of sealegs. \n\n\"Ah.\" The Pirate King gave a gentle smile, watching until she looked up at him with her wide blue eyes. He nodded to return the courtesy. \n\n\"You 'ave your favher's eyes and your muvher's face. You are tha very spitting image uff a Princess, your Grace. I'm sure vhey would be very proud you now.\" \n\n_On a boat with him._ he mused. Caspain would have lived and died again. He had never known Rhea, but she had never struck him as a great liberator of people. She did have a pretty face, he supposed. What else could a King want other than a pretty face and large dowry?\n\n\"And what do you fink uff tha joust, your Grace?\" The Pirate King turned in his seat to spy at Caderyn, \"And you too, knight.\" He let out a sharp, dry laugh. \"You're welcome to join us at tha balcony.\""
}
] | 312 | 3,665 |
473.666667 | 2021-04-30 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nBarracks, Maíth Mansion\n\nValkrin sat alone in the room, his head in his hands. \"Changed enough to care about a woman, but not enough to keep from damn near killing that boy,\" He said softly to himself, \"What's going on with you, old man?\" Truthfully, the only things that kept him from caving the Melsi's chest in were his reluctance to listen to Asgarov's bitching, and him not wanting Catarina to watch him murder anyone, again. \n\nFootsteps in the doorway caused him to turn his gaze upwards, meeting Catarina's eyes. \"Well, Ms. Tanner, don't you look beautiful? I'm telling you now you'll be the envy of the Isles tonight.\" Her arrival had shocked him, had she heard him speaking to himself? He gave a nod for his guard to close the door, and only after it shut, Valkrin leaned onto his desk. \"You didn't give me the whole truth about what you gathered from my dream, I could see it on your face. I'll admit to you that for the first time in a long time, I've no idea what's going on in my head. I'd appreciate the truth, Ms. Tanner.\" \n\nValkrin had done all of his preparations, had his top guardsmen posted throughout the mansion, and decided he had enough time for this conversation."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "The Messenger\nTonate Proper, The Southern Isles\n\nThe Messenger was clad entirely in robes, long and thick in an attempt to hide the distinctive physique underneath. They weren't dark colors, like you'd expect from a spy, but rather a vibrant red. In truth if they wore black they'd stick out more in the midst of the colored streets and festivities, so they simply grabbed a cheap piece of cloth from a merchant, and a festival mask from a beggar. They now bore the resemblance of a common folk, simply partaking in the festival.\n\nThey glanced around the street briefly before slipping across once the coast was clear. Down an alleyway, a left, then a right, then 4 more lefts, look for the mark. Those were their instructions, and they followed the obscure details as best they could. Eventually however, they spied the familiar mark in the doorway. The mysterious figure looked around once more before stepping inside.\n\nThe room was empty, except for a trunk and a chair, both covered in cloth. The Messenger walked to the middle of the room, and pulled out a small orb from his pocket. The marble pulsed with a colorful glow, cycling through the entire spectrum before returning to the start and continuing again. The Messenger hated these things. They were marketed as religious tokens, but the Messenger knew they were really surveillance devices with a unique purpose. They placed the Marble on the ground gingerly, before stomping on the glass bauble with force. The glass cracked, and a small breeze blew across the Messenger's face.\n\nAfter a moment a black circle grew from the points of broken glass, like a spill of oil covering the entire floor before the room's lone inhabitant.\n\nA black and orange Tabby cat jumped out of the appearing hole with a \"*Mau*.\"\n\n\"Are you him?\"\n\n\"Of course he isn't!\" The penny whistle voice followed immediately.\n\nThe golden masked man hoisted himself from the abyss, his tiny arms held surprising strength, and kicked his legs free at the edge.\n\nThe Messenger watched as Tiny Vik reached into the hole, and pulled it free like a piece of fabric, before stuffing it into his satchel.\n\n\"It's good to see you again!\" The cheer was genuine, but The Messenger knew better than to listen to Vik's honeyed words, even if they were sincere.\n\n\"I'm only here to repay the debt.\"\n\n\"You don't owe me anything! Your accomplishments are your own, I simply offered a helping hand!\"\n\n\"And after this I don't owe you any favors.\"\n\n\"You didn't owe them to begin with! *You* Chose to contact me. *You* Stomped on the marble. You could've just walked away at any time.\"\n\nThe Messenger stuttered. Tiny Vik was right. Why did he do this? Must be mind control.\n\n\"I don't control people, my friend, that flies into the face of my very existence.\"\n\nDid he read his mind? Impossible. No one had that power.\n\n\"I'm done with you, Vik. Forever.\"\n\n\"Okay then, that was always allowed.\" Tiny Vik shrugged before giggling. \"I'm sure I'll see you soon.\"\n\n\"Fuck off, midget.\" The Messenger spat, turning on their heel and making for the exit.\n\nTiny Vik shook his head with a small sadness.\n\n\"In the bag, Tiddlywinks.\" Vik said. The fat cat protested briefly, before hopping into the tiny man's satchel, and disappearing into the mess within.\n\nTiny Vik waited an hour in the room, before exiting through a window that led to the street level, and a back door. After standing up, dusting himself off, and clearing his throat, Vik spoke aloud to the empty back way.\n\n\"Excuse me? Poppies? I know the King is watching right now. Please run ahead and let him know I'm here, and on the way to speak with him!\" Vik had cupped a hand around his mouth for added volume, and paused after his little remark. Certain that the nearby ear had his message, he nodded with affirmation, before turning towards one of the colored streets, and skipping his way along the cobblestone."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nBarracks, Maith Mansion\n\nCatarina had, thankfully, arrived late enough that she hadn't seen him pummel a child, nor did she hear his musings to himself. Granted, the only reason she hadn't heard were the thick wooden doors and stone walls that silenced much of the noise from different rooms.\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about,\" She replied briskly. \"I told you exactly what I thought of it.\"\n\nHer whole body gave her away, the lie not coming easily from her lips. She turned away from him, the hoops in her ears swaying with how abruptly she did so, while her lips pursed slightly and her eyes couldn't seem to rest anywhere for long. The poor woman had never been very good at lying. She really wasn't suited to the line of work she was in right now...\n\n*He doesn't need the truth* She thought to herself, trying to drown out the mental scolding for lying. *And besides, it's not like he can force it out of me. What's the worst he can do? Kill me? It'd be a blessing.*"
}
] | 297 | 1,421 |
828.333333 | 2021-05-22 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "**Ser Samsom Dumagne\nTonate Proper**\n\nA gleaming twilight was at hand as the *Aaylor's Tongue* Slid past the sea walls, entering the Hangman's Harbour. In the blood-and-gold rays of the tropic sun, the great dromon appeared to glow like a blade in the forge. Its two crimson sails were filled with fire, licking the dark sky as it sailed along. It was a sight to invoke the god of scale and sulphur from which she earned her name, and she truly looked to have sprung fresh and hot from his mouth.\n\nSamsom rested his weight against the wooden railing as he watched the city grow great and near. Below his eyes, two long levels of rowers heaved their oars through still water, chanting a two-syllable rowing-chant as they bore their lords to land. Their rhytmhic movements were the heartbeat of the dromon, slowing as it came into Tonate Proper's safe embrace.\n\nThe oarsmen reversed their motion to ease the ship into port, and he heard a new sound then. Behind him, discordant twangs rang out from catgut strings. He looked back. Lutur was sitting on a chair in the middle of the deck, tuning a long-necked bouzouki. His eyes were slack and serene as he worked; it was the only thing that made him look so at ease. With no ocean wind, Samsom could feel each awkward note grating on his ears, but once Lutur finished and seized the plectrum that hung by a string from the neck, he began to play as fine a tune as ever. It was a melody to his song, a paean to the gods, thanking them for deliverance into safe harbour after so difficult a voyage.\n\nAnd a difficult voyage it had been. They'd nearly been blown off course to Amoroth as they'd passed south of Araedia. The oarsmen had laboured hard to get them back on track towards the Isles. And even when they'd gotten there, one of their two accompanying ships ran aground. Thankfully, they had fallen within leaping distance of dry land, and the sailors had escaped mostly unscathed to redistribute themselves between the other two ships. Fortunate as they were not to lose a ship's worth of men, they had still lost a ship's worth of supplies in this accident. Food, salt, and small beer that would need to be replaced with whatever they could find in the Islander markets. Mixing with Islander merchants and coming into the sights of the thieves and pickpockets of this barbaric island was a thought that pleased none of them.\n\nThe bouzouki sounded low tones, but the sweetwood of its make made them as bright and clear as spring sky. Lutur's voice was high and fine as he sang. For all the deficiencies that Samsom could find in his brother, a lack of musical talent was hardly among them.\n\nBy the time Lutur's tune of praise came to an end, they were a minute short of the quays. Samsom watched his brother lay the bouzouki down in his lap, saw the blissful smile on his squat, pale face wither away into a hard line. 'A pigpen, dressed up like a whorehouse,' he said with a faint sneer. Looking sidelong at Samsom, eyebrows raised, he asked, 'Are you sure, brother, that some queer wind didn't steal us away to Vallen?'\n\n'I believe Vallen is an *Inland* City, my lord,' said Samsom. 'I'd avoid making such comparisons once ashore, if I were you. The Pirate King isn't known for his fondness of insults, and I doubt his people feel any different. These are a well-abused folk. They have tender bruises, my lord.'\n\nLutur tilted an ear to the clamour of the harbour. 'I scarcely expect them to hear me over their own catterwauling.' He handed his bouzouki to a servant, and went to stand by his brother at starboard. 'You'd swear they started with nothing but rum-houses and brothels, and ran blindly from there. Come to think of it ...'\n\nSamsom turned his back to the railing. His brother was shorter than he was, and not as broad, though his face was fuller and sharper. Lutur wasn't a warrior, nor much of an archon, either. In terms of ideal merits, the two were one in the same among Falsans.\n\nHe thought back on Father. The great Baldarian Dumagne would have slaughtered the city with just as if not harsher words, but when he would disembark, every red-haired head would have spun round to watch him go. Tall, full-bearded with the look of a consummate warrior. What would they make of Lutur? He only had the shadow of a beard despite being a grown man of some years now. It was the most he could do to uphold essential rituals, like the paean of safe harbour.\n\nEven through the perfume, Samsom could smell the Archon of Falsa sweating under his red slip. Over the tunic, Lutur wore a black dalmatic, turqoise weaving across it in patterns that scintillated with gems. The silk brocade he was wearing was too heavy; if they hand't arrived late, Lutur would have been boiling like a turnip as they walked the streets. He'd stayed below deck to avoid the beating sun, but that had probably only worsened his state. Samsom could see beads of sweat glistening on the skin below the dark curls of Lutur's fringe, and there was a tired look in his eyes.\n\n'Bring me my coronet,' Lutur said after a long silence, as the dromon finally came to a halt and the deckhands scrambled to moor her. 'I suppose it's for appearances, and that.'\n\n'As you will, my lord.' Samsom pushed away from the railing and started towards the trapdoor that led below deck. He smiled over at his sister. 'What do you think? A pigpen, or a fine pirate city?'"
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz had spent much of the voyage doing her best to keep busy. She was used to long travel whether it be on horseback, foot or by boat but that didn't stop the occasional ache in the pit of her stomach or stop her breakfast from being thrown over the side of a railing when the ship rocked with a bad wave. \n\nShe should have been in Togaira to attend to her husband's - no, *Her* - estate and land and the people in it but the empty halls of her home and the unfriendly coolness of a half filled bed called for a visit home, and then a visit furthest she'd ever been from any home she had known.\n\nTonight, with the help of her dearest friend and handmaid, Eidyg, she had readied herself in some of her finest clothes for docking. Her long hair had been piled high into a crown braid and covered with a scarf of deep yellow linen so as not to overheat in the warm weather, atop the scarf sat a half moon kemenike adorned with pearls that shone gold in the sun, bordered by goldwork embroidery in the image of sunflowers. Her tunic was a patterned dark blue, gathered at the waist along with her pale stola with a woven band. Powders and pressed berries had been dabbed onto her cheeks to hide the freckles she'd gained on the trip and the flushed complexion of seasickness.\n\nAn emerald green cloak hung from lady Dumagne's shoulder as she sat aboard the deck, staring towards the oncoming land and waves and letting the sights drown out the sounds of her brothers behind her. The city before seemed lively and colourful even under the night's sky and her heart ached a moment for her sister to see it. Poor Sun had been left behind, though Peraz knew how much she loved to travel.\n\nHer head turned to meet her youngest brother as he spoke, sending pearls clinking against each other. The sight of her brother in his coronet always made her stifle a chuckle, remembering the years it would slip below his brow and leave naught but a mouth beneath it -\n\nShe had to suppress a small smile at the mention of it.\n\n\"I think I will need to carry my own sword tonight, if you don't learn to mind that tongue of yours, little brother.\" Spoke Peraz to Lutur, raising an amused brow at him,\"And if I have to hear talk from either of my brothers of whorehouses, I'll fling myself from the boat.\"\n\nAs Samsom descended the ship, Peraz stood and crossed over to stand above the trap door and cupped her hands around her mouth in a mock yell,\"Samsom, you'll keep an eye out for Lutur tonight, won't you? The poor little lord looks exhausted, I fear he may fall asleep in his supper!\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "**Ser Samsom Dumagne\n*Aaylor's Tongue*, Tonate Proper**\n\nSamsom laughed as he found the ornate box and parted the latch. 'Hopefully his fated partner won't be too energetic.' Only half-suppressing a giggle, he went on, 'Maybe he'll fall afoul of some overspiced Araedian dance-master who wants to dance the night away, seek out her true love in the passions of the ballroom floor.'\n\nHe heard Lutur draw near and scoff. 'I swear by Saris and Rueben and ... Emin! And Great Duma himself, and all his glittering scales! I will *Not* Be dancing.' All the lordliness tumbled out of his voice, and he sounded like the petulant child that Samsom knew to lie behind the enameled facade. 'I'd sooner join those poor wretches hanging off the harbour walls.'\n\nWhen Samsom came up, cradling Lutur's diamond-studded coronet in his hands, he saw his brother leaning back against the mast with his arms crossed. Samsom simpered at him. 'Are you sure, my lord? No doubt that room will be host to a myriad of *Foreign beauties*, highborn daughters and young widows from all over Marin. They'll be looking for a suitable husband. That's half of what all these soirees are for, my lord. There'll be doe eyes on the look out for crowns big and small, and you *Do* Bear the mark of one of Terresol's principal lords, my Archon of Sulphur.'\n\nHe proffered the coronet to his brother, and saw the thoughtful, avaricious look in his eyes as they lay upon his symbol of office. Then Lutur blew air and shook his head. 'You're having me for a go, brother. I won't be distracted by womanflesh.' Samsom winced. He hated that word. Lutur always used it, and Samsom suspected he was the only speaker of Soltongue or Commontongue who ever did. 'I'm here at the behest of a king, and I shan't bother myself with anyone of lower station than I or him, not even for marriage.'\n\n-\n\nSamsom pouted, then looked to Peraz. She saw a twinkle in his eye. It was a familiar look; the kind of look he had when he was bent over a map, planning some great exercise of wit that would force his enemy into a helpless position. Normally, he let her know his machinations before he executed them, but whatever he was trying here, he was keeping it wholly to himself.\n\n'What say you, dear sister?' Samsom asked with a hint of a smirk. 'Isn't it high time our brother found himself a bride?'"
}
] | 597 | 2,485 |
599.625 | 2021-05-23 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Lady Peraz Dumagne\nAaylor's Tongue, Tonate Proper\n\nPeraz chuckled at the childishness of Lutur's insistence on not dancing, she did so like to wind him up and see the boy inside who hadn't grown up,\"Don't take the gods' names in vain, brother. I'll have you dancing by the end of the night.\"\n\nShe nudged and prodded at Lutur's arms as if to assist Samsom in his jest. She was the very image of a Terreme noblewoman in all her tall visage but she was happy to reduce back to the childhood nature of annoying her brothers in relative privacy. Though his reply to the prodding only sent her back into her noble gait.\n\n\"*Womanflesh* Is what made you, Lutur. Do not be so disrespectful.\" Her kohl lined eyes narrowed at Lutur in a look, she hoped was, reminiscent of the ones father would give when the children were misbehaving,\"You may be a lord but I'll still clip your ear like that of a child.\"\n\nPeraz felt her mood had been particularly soured by his words but the almost conspiratorial look Samsom was giving her was a momentary distracting. Usually she was in on whatever plan he had come up with - \"Thick as thieves\" Father had called them - but tonight she was blind to it. An interesting change.\n\n\"Of course it is. I was 4 years younger than him when *I* Was married off.\" She hummed and reached up to move a string of threaded pearls from her face that had moved in the wind,\"The Ramna should have been overrun by now with miniature Luturs.\"\n\n\"I will certainly be dancing -\" She gave a practiced gasp and leaned into Lutur's space,\"Maybe even with common islanders! Then you will have to join me so I won't embarrass you, or risk me running off with an illiterate red head you'll have to call '*Brother*'.\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nHis expression did not change as Calypso slid her hands around his arm. He looked over at her for a moment, then glanced back over at the wares and merchant she had left moments ago. \"Hmm. You'll need new clothes for the ball, won't you?\" He asked. It was clearly a rhetorical question. One of the corners of his mouth curved slightly, a ghost of a smile, before he led her back to the booth. \"Let's see if there is anything worth buying here.\"\n\nThe merchant smiled at Bastien, in a pleasant way instead of the vulturous demeanor of the last vendor they had encountered. Bastien's eyes went over the countless dresses. Their fabric was varied, as were the colors. But all of them were of very high quality, the colors vibrant and beautiful and the cuts, from what Bastien could tell, were exotic but elegant.\n\nCareful to not use the arm that Calypso was holding lest she take her hands back, Bastien reached over to feel the blue dress that Calypso had fingered moments earlier. It was smooth as water, silken to his touch. The color was beautiful, a deep cobalt, and yet Bastien did not think it would do her justice. Though he was sure Calypso would look beautiful in any color, he wanted...\n\n\"Ah.\"\n\nHis eyes locked on a gown that was half-hidden behind a deep orange robe. He reached for it, grabbing it. The fabric was a deep, vibrant blood-red. Silken, finely woven and light enough to keep one cool in the dreaded heat of the isles. Bastien saw that there was an interesting, elegant strap design on its back. Though he knew of good clothes and fashion, with women's apparel and silhouettes he was quite clueless as to tastes besides his own personal preference.\n\n\"How much for the red gown?\"\n\nThe vendor's face lit up. \"Ah! This one?\" He carefully removed the dress from where it was hanging, the fabric shimmering in the sunlight as he did so. He laid it out on the booth in front of them. \"She is four hundred gold.\"\n** **\n\n*'Rather expensive for a dress,'* Bastien thought, but he wasn't entirely fazed by the price. He glanced over at Calypso, and saw in her face, despite her masked expression, how much she longed for the dress as she stared at it. The color looked as if it was made for her. And it was very high quality.\n\nWordlessly, Bastien removed the coin purse from his belt and dropped it on the counter. The merchant, at an expert pace, began rapidly counting the coins. After roughly a minute, he gave Bastien back the coin sack after he had extracted his money. The pouch still with a decent bit of weight in it as Bastien put it back on his belt.\n\n\"She is one of my favorite pieces, so beautiful and yet so uniquely designed.\" The vendor nodded, smiling as he looked over at Calypso then nodded to Bastien as he began to fold the dress up neatly. \"The color will compliment your wife's complexion perfectly and further accentuate her natural beauty. You have very fine taste, sir.\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "**Samsom Dumagne\nThe *Aaylor's Tongue*, Hangman's Harbour**\n\nLutur's glare grew wider and sharper with every word that Peraz spoke. 'Ha! Charming!' he spat, looking up into her eyes with a mocking but uneasy smile. 'By all means, dear sister, go and let some barbarian pup you.' He reached out and laid a hand on her arm, his smile collapsing and giving way to a look of consuming vitriol. 'With bastards, that is. Bear in mind that *I* Decide who gets your hand.' Without relieving her of his gaze, he clawed his coronet out of Samson's hands, and slid it atop his curls. 'We've gone generations without disgrace, neither by son *Or* Daughter.' He gave her a look over and curled his lip. 'I'll defend our seed to the very last.'\n\nSamsom felt a tension at the back of his throat. Instinctively, he caught the blade of his sword in a vice-grip through its scabbard. 'Let's not be so coarse to each other, dearest ones,' he said to them, his tone soft as velvet. Stepping forward, he guided Lutur's hand back down to his side. Smiling, Samsom brushed a palm over his brother's shoulder. 'Father wouldn't stand to hear you dishonouring our sister with such words, my lord. You know this.'\n\nLutur rolled his eyes. 'Enough of this. Both of you.' A retainer came to him with his sword and belt. He took the belt and tied it around his soft waist, then carefully deposited his curved blade in its sheath. Next he let the retainer drape the cloak around his shoulders. It was beautiful, embroidered with a field of myriad golden scallops—the symbol of their house—against the blue-green of deepest ocean. When the look was finished, and Lutur straightened himself up before them, Samsom couldn't deny that his brother had a certain dark radiance about him.\n\nThe Archon of Falsa favoured his two older siblings with one of his brutal smile. 'Let get ourselves gone. It won't do to keep the Pirate King waiting.'\n\nSamsom threw an eye at the setting sun and smirked inwardly. *A bit late for that, brother.* He said nothing. Lutur was already walking off to board the quay. Samsom snapped a hand-mirror free of his belt. It was a fine thing, two sulphur dragons snaking up from its handle to dance around a crescent moon on the back, all in bright silver filigree. \n\nHe lifted it to his face and examined his reflection, pouting. His flaxen hair were looking a bit wind-blown. He snapped a matching silver comb from the other side of his belt, and stroked the long teeth through his locks. The stubble he'd grown, having left his razor behind, looked like he could nearly call it a true beard. He didn't mind that, though. The hair of his scalp may have been fairer than fresh wheat, but his eyebrows, his moustaches, and his beards were always a pale dark brown, just like his siblings. He liked it that way, how it made him look more like Father.\n\nMirror and comb went back to his belt. Peacockish as it was to carry them, they blended nicely against the dalmatic we wore over his tunic. Where Lutur had gone for dark blue silk rife with gems, and Peraz had taken a pale stola over her blue tunic, the outerwear that Samsom had chosen looked almost like the kind of lamellar curaiss he might have worn on the battlefield. Fine, polished plates of silvered steel covered him from thigh to neck to almost his elbows. Filling the narrow between the plates were rubies, garnets, sapphires, and emeralds, all sown into the silk that bound the whole thing into one. No doubt it was the most expensive thing he owned, perhaps even more valuable than Lutur's coronet to the common robber. With the glittering, varied hues of the gemstones, and the reflective silver of the plates, he looked utterly resplendent when he caught the right light. The dress of Falsans did not favour bright colours like other Terremes' did, but they were a people who adored their fine metals, a taste that Samsom had brought to a glorious conclusion.\n\nHis squire, a lean young boy with messy, sandy-brown hair by the name of Goyran, brought him his cloak. It was smaller and lighter than Lutur's, only reaching his hip, bright red with a border of gold thread. Smiling at his sister as armed guardsman surrounded them, he offered her his arm. It would be a queer sight, her four inches taller than him, but to Samsom it mattered not one fig."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Lady Peraz Dumagne\nThe Aaylor's Tongue, Hangman's harbour\n\nIt must have been a strange sight to see. Lutur looking up to his sister whose usual height and tall headpiece towered over him as he gripped her arm and spoke with acid dripping from his tongue. Peraz wondered; were she to hold a sword before him, would he have the guts to continue his mighty crusade against her?\n\n'*We've gone generations without disgrace, neither by son or daughter*.' He said, and looking at her youngest brother Peraz found herself begging to differ.\n\nStill, as Samsom broke them apart, Peraz went back to the railing of the ship to cool her temper. She would not let her brother be the reason she lost her temper tonight and she would not do so before going into public. Her pale fingers grasped the rail so tightly her knuckles went white while her brothers readied themselves behind her. Her eyes looked to the remnants of sunshine and hoped it would blind her, or that the waves below would rise as a Phoenix would and swallow the ship whole for a moments piece from her annoying little brother.\n\nWhen her heart stilled to a normal pace she turned back to find Lutur already walking off and Samsom had just put his mirror back on his belt and was being helped into a cloak. A chuckle escaped her as she went to accept his arm.\n\n\"Is that vanity I spot in my favourite brother?\" She teased as he led her, her smile dropped suddenly and so did her voice,\"Father was a fool to make him lord in his death - though I hate to say such a wicked thing. You would have been perfectly capable. Fie, even Sun!\"\n\nShe was looking down to her brother's face and in the setting sun he looked ever more like father. Peraz always thought he looked the most like father out of all of them but maybe that was because he didn't have any of their mother in him.\n\nOf course, Peraz knew that they did not share a biological mother but it never felt right to give the title to the woman who birthed him, for she had never met her and never raised him. It was him who should have worn the house Coronet. \n\n\"Maybe I *Will* Take an Islander for a husband and run off just to spite him. I hear they dance naked in the streets at weddings.\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "**Ser Samsom Dumagne\nThe *Aaylor's Tongue*, Hangman's Harbour**\n\nSamsom could sense the faint aftershocks of her raised temper, and laid a hand on her wrist. 'In this sort of heat, I wouldn't be surprised. To think I would have called *Brugallion* Balmy before.' \n\nHe thought back on his kingdom's southeastern province. The great trade city of Posoxe was the closest thing Terresol had to a place like this, he mused. Posoxe was more refined, though. Its the medley of goods and stalls and crafts that pervaded the city was tempered by a high population of Araedians, who made up much of the city's merchantsblood council, and managed to keep the city clean and respectable enough to honour Xolile and the rest of the gods.\n\nIn contrast, Tonate was pure life and passion, with no apparent godliness to keep it all in check. Fish nets were draped over doorways, silk canopies flapped in the wind, crates were stacked high behind tall, barbed walls. There were children playing on the docks, running around and diving between sailor's legs, prompting gruesome curses from salty mouths.\n\n'And please, sister, don't stir that old broth again.' He patted her arm as they crossed the deck. 'The days when a Terreme lord could legitize his bastard son with merely a word and the right motions are centuries behind us. And gods, how would Sun feel if she had even a minute less time to spend with her studies?'\n\nThey came to the ramp. Some of their guardsman walked behind them, some were already down on the ramp. The men wore coats of plates and conical helmets with shots of horse hair, mouths covered by mail aventails. Each had a kite shield bearing the Dumagne crest: pure black, and perched high on the face, a red chevron upon which were painted three golden scallops. Some men had the snow-white 'dragon moon' below their chevrons, horns facing upward. Their gods were with them, even this far into the the lands of heathenry.\n\nSamsom saw one of the guards gesture openly to Peraz, turning his face to the nearby Islanders. He was already grimacing by the time the man bellowed, 'Behold, the Dragon! Behold, the Dragon of Falsa! Great Duma tempered in—!' One of the Ibbish Red Guardsmen who were attached to their god threw a backhand at the man's helmet, cutting short his zealous announcement.\n\nSamsom stopped, and leaned closer to her. 'And needless to say, I'd try not to excite any of your *Fancy boys* With talk of someone else becoming Lord of the Ramna, hm?' His tone was grave, but he couldn't help a crooked smile. It was funny. A little bit, anyway."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Lady Peraz Dumagne\nThe Aaylor's Tongue, Hangman's harbour\n\nWalking down the ramp, Peraz took in her surroundings. The crooked shanty town houses piled high near the docks and she watched as a topless woman with long hair stuck her head out and called across to the house beside where another woman hung clothes out on a line between the two windows. Peraz felt herself flush at the sight and she looked down once more to her brother.\n\n\"Sun would likely feel a lot better knowing her fool of a brother wouldn't embarrass the family name,\" She muttered, squeezing his arm gently,\"I mean really, who gave him the idea that the king seemed to be *Personally* Awaiting him?\"\n\nHer head whipped around as a guard began to bellow to the crowd, nearly knocking Samsom's nose with her kemenike, her eyes narrowed and glared sharpened daggers at the man until he was knocked over the head.\n\n\"Stop smirking,\" She all but snapped at him,\"You're far too smug - it's embarrassing.\"\n\nIt *Was* Embarrassing, knowing all of Terresol (or at the very least, all of Falsa) knew the exact time she popped from between her mother's legs and how they loved to shout it at foreigners who barely spoke common. \n\n\"How will you entertain yourself tonight, brother? Will I save you a dance or will you gorge yourself with Lutur?\" She was trying to bring back the lightheartedness of before as they walked along with the guards. She couldn't wait to hide on the opposite end of the hall from Lutur and glower for the rest of the night."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nSouthern isles \n\nArin was floating. Lights flickered around him, as if he was suspended in the night sky. He reached out and grabbed a nearby ball of light, and swore loudly as his mother laughed at him. He looked up, and she took the small cup out of his hands. \n\n\"Never touch the cup when it's sitting over the fire without covering your hands.\" She said, unwrapping the cloth from her hand. She handed him a wet piece of a rag and he placed it over his hand before looking up at her. \n\n\"Oh, and if you don't hurry, you'll miss the ships entering harbour. They are due any moment now. If you leave, take Herin with you. He's been quiet ever since the other day. You never explained to me exactly what happened.\" His mother said, scrubbing the plates she used to cook on. \n\nThe scene around Arin changed as his memory went back even further. It was as if everything was pulling him back into his own past, and he couldn't do anything but hold on. As everything suddenly stopped, he realized he was standing in a crowded street. A large crowd was beginning to form nearby, and Arin turned to investigate. He began shoving his way into the crowd, moving in between the people around him, twisting and turning as he narrowly avoided elbows and arms. As he crawled under a rather tall man, he noticed what was going on. \n\n\"If I get me hands on tha li'le shit i'll be tha last thing he eva saw.\" A portly man was trying to grab something that was moving between the market stalls. People watched as the man reached behind the small counter that made up a small jewelry shop and grabbed the head of a small boy. Arin squinted, but before he could see who it was a bright light filled his vision.\n\nArin groaned as his eyes fluttered open. A soft noise.. Music was playing by him, and his skin felt cool, completely unlike the burning sensation that had plagued him since landing in the trash. \n\n*Am I.. Dead?* He thought for a moment. He didn't feel dead, but how does it feel to be dead? How can he be sure? He slowly tried to move his broken arm, but a sharp pain raced through his entire body. He bit down, trying to fight the scream building in his chest. \n\nHe looked around and backed up suddenly, pain running through his body as he moved. It woke him up, and he realized the music was coming from the masked person sitting beside him. He faintly remembered him from earlier. \n\nHe coughed as he tried to speak. \"You must.. Have been the one to do this for me.\" He said, struggling to move his injured jaw. \"If you were, I thank you.\" He said, sinking into the trash but retaining consciousness."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "**Samsom Dumagne\nThe Irons, Tonate Proper**\n\nThe question brought a great and sudden tiredness upon Samsom. He pursed his lips for a moment. He knew exactly what would occupy his time tonight, if all went to plan. 'I doubt I can eat a great deal after that voyage.' He rubbed his stomach through the silver plates and studded gems.\n\nThere must have been fifty in their party altogether, a host of armed retainers. Samsom alone had two men-at-arms and young Goyran by his side; none of the three were armoured save for light chainmail shirts between tunic and brocade dalmatic, since they would be accompanying him to the ball, but all carried their swords.\n\nSamsom turned his gaze west as they went. Through the flanking file of guardsmen, he spied an opulent mansion near the docks, and a shipyard sprawling out next to it. *The womb of this great seaborne empire.* The Pirate King fancied he could have the South to himself if he could seed it with enough silver.\n\nHe looked to Goyran, noticed a haze of disconcertion on his face. 'What's wrong, boy?' he asked gently.\n\n'They're eyeing me, sir,' Goyran whispered, even though they spoke in their native tongue. Samsom looked to the side of the street, and saw swarthy men in dark, whaleskin coats leaning against walls, leering at them as they walked. Samsom supposed he looked like something of a dandy to them.\n\n'What do you make of these people, Goyran?'\n\nThe young squire pondered the question a moment, then looked up at his master with bright eyes. 'I know not, ser, but I'll tell you what I *Would* Make of them.'\n\n'What's that?' Samsom asked.\n\n'Ribbons, ser.' Goyran smiled. 'For you, ser.'\n\nSamsom chuckled, and ruffled the boys curly, dirt-and-sand hair. 'There's the makings of a knight. I'm sure all our gods are barking and baying for you to take the oath, lad.'\n\nLutur looked back at him. 'What happened to all that talk of *Fair words*, brother?' he said, terribly sardonic.\n\n'They can hardly make sense of the tongue, my lord.' Samsom felt a pang of doubt after saying that, and gave one of the Islanders a rueful eye. He peeled his mind away from them, looking back to his sister. A fluster of memory struck him then, and he smiled. 'Oh, do save me a dance. But try not to overimbibe if you plan on taking the floor. We can't have you prancing around and knocking your heels like it's the night of the dragon moon.' His voice fell apart into a breathy titter."
}
] | 604 | 4,797 |
202.333333 | 2021-06-09 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount \nMaith mansion\n\nAnna grew tired of reading, already halfway through the book. She put it down on the bed and stood up, looking around for something to do. \n\nShe looked out the window. How much time had passed already? Maybe Kirk was back and could tell her about the joust; or about anything from outside for that matter. \n\nAnna went to the door and peeked behind it, waiting for a maid to pass by. \n\n\"Pst.\" She discreetly called out \"Pst!\" \n\nThe maid nearby stopped and looked around, confused, until she spotted Lady Anna. \n\n\"Yes?\" The maid approached the door. \n\n\"Do you know if Lord Kirk Pinewood has arrived back from the joust?\" \n\n\"Oh! In fact, I could swear he came in just moments ago. He should be in his room by now.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\n...\n\nAnna put, once again, the maid clothes on, so she could walk around the place without suspicion. She approached Kirk's room and looked around, to make sure nobody was watching, before giving a soft knock to the door. \n\n\"It's me, may I come in?\" She announced to him after knocking. \n\nShe awaited for a response before entering."
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Kirk Pinewood\nMaith Mansion**\n\nKirk did not register that someone was speaking to him until a few seconds later. \"Come in!\" He called out from the washroom, still focused on getting something out from his teeth in front of a mirror."
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount \nMaith Mansion \n\nShe opened the door and let herself in to the room. \n\n\"How was the joust?\" She asked as she closed the door. \"I hope it was more entertaining than it was here... Don't get me wrong, the maids are really nice to me, but I wish I could go outside.\"\n\nShe patted down her dress to get some dust off, as she went to the bed and sat down on the edge, looking at Kirk. \n\n\"Tell me, is it as beautiful around the town as the maids say?\" She asked with a hint of excitement in her voice and a smile on her face. It was nice to speak to someone she knew, with whom she didn't have to pretend to be someone else. \"I barely had a chance to see it when we arrived. You think we could go for a walk before we leave?\""
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Kirk Pinewood\nHis room in Maith Mansion**\n\nKirk, focused on the task of picking something out of his teeth, had not realized it was Anna's voice until she opened the door. He tensed up and scrambled to the rack holding a towel in his washroom and threw it around his shoulders so that he looked decent before she came into view. \"It was fun!\" He said shakily at the sudden rush of adrenaline.\n\nAnna's request made him think for a moment before answering. He thought back to his stroll through the streets earlier in the day. \"Maybe.\" Kirk leaned against the washroom's door frame. \"We need to be careful about what we do publicly together, but I think we could find a way to arrange a walk before we leave. It's certainly a sight to see.\"\n\nKirk looked at Anna as she sat on the edge of his bed. The warm smile with which she looked back at him felt like a gift he didn't deserve. \"Did the maids say anything to you about the ball tonight? Were you... Were they thinking about going?\""
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount \nMaith Mansion\n\nHer face lit up as soon as he gave way into the possibility of going outside.\n\n\"Oh, the ball...\" Her smile fell slightly at the mention of the event. \"Indeed they have. It seems to be quite the talk. All of them want to go, but most can't even begin to afford a decent dress for the occasion.\" \n\nBalls had always been one of her favorite events. Elegant gowns twirling around, cheerful hearty laughs even from the most insufferable stiff people, and the boring and dreaded serious conversations could be avoided simply by heading into the bliss of people dancing. \n\nEven Sibyl seemed to relax just a tiny little bit during that kind of event. Oh, how long had it been since the last one Anna attended? \n\n\"One of the maids couldn't stop talking about the most beautiful gown she has ever seen, at a shop down by the centre of the town.\" Anna sighed as she recalled \"They can't wait for the ball. Are you attending?\""
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Kirk Pinewood\nMaith Mansion**\n\n\"Yes, I do plan to be there. Political appearances and all that. I think Dennon also needs the help. The man spent most of his life as a knight. He seems out of his element in these high society events. There were times today when it felt like I was talking to a child. At least I had some experience schmoozing the rich and powerful to get them to buy my antiques. You'd probably be the most valuable if you weren't in hiding. We're a long way from The Iron Plaines, but I'm sure some of the subtleties come a bit more naturally to you from your background.\" Kirk vented.\n\n\"You know, an event like this, the Ibbish could use a broader representation. Maybe you should go buy a dress... And then come to the ball.\""
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount\nMaith mansion\n\nA smile crossed her face as a brief little laugh scaped her lips. \n\n\"Oh dear, the gods know I'm horrible at political small talk.\" She did a gesture with her hand to dismiss the idea as she shook her head no \"Dancing, that's usually my task. People get too serious at the ball or bore you too much with politics? There I go and convince them to dance.\" She explained as she recalled the balls she had attended \"Works like a charm. Everyone is far nicer after having a fun time dancing.\"\n\nAs he spoke again, hope started shining in her eyes. *Could use representation*, was he going to say what she thought he was going to say? \n\n\"Me?\" She got up from the bed with a jump. She couldn't contain her joy as she did little jumps, her hands flapping a bit as she squeaked. \n\n\"Oh dear, we have to go get a dress!\" She spoke way quicker, excitement rushing through her \"And I don't know what to do with my hair...\" She rambled on \"Oh Kirk!\" She ran to him and gave him a quick hug \"This is going to be so fun! Thank you, thank you, thank you.\""
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Lord Kirk Pinewood\nMaith Mansion**\n\n\"You're welcome.\" Kirk said, returning the hug.\n\n..."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik didn't know the injuries were that severe. He reached up an arm to assist the boy, but what could he do in this state besides get in the way? Still he held out his hand, walking next to Arin, and scanned his limp with every step, praying for some improvement.\n\nYes, Vik prayed.\n\n\"Don't push yourself, son. Don't be in such a rush to heal that you get injured even more.\" Vik cooed out. \"If you need to rest, sit back down and I'll fetch a doctor, I'm sure there's one somewhere on this island.\"\n\nHe looked behind them at the refuse pile, and then before them at the break in the tents, maybe searching for a sign that bore a trio of leeches, or anything that advertised a doctor of some kind.\n\nCaptain Jax Brightwater\nAboard *His 16 Rings* Beneath the Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\n\"Your Majesty, you wound me! Just because I joined you on a whim, doesn't mean I have a habit of doing it.\" He couldn't help but chuckle at her joke, though, and was relieved she didn't berate him for being absent.\n\n\"Everything is handled, Your Majesty, I simply had to take care of the horses and carriage, since we didn't take those back to the manse. I just happened to get delayed by a gate guard who insisted I correct the money he lost during my bout.\" He clasped his hands behind his back after adjusting his sword belt. He preferred this festival to the Taemish Council at least; they let him keep his sword, and there seemed to be no mention of demonic carcasses being part of the ball. At that last thought he became curious about how that would look.\n\n\"Do you think we'll see a spectacle like the one in Taemar, Your Grace? I wonder what the Islanders would dangle in place of a hog. A shark, or whale perhaps?\" He giggled to himself before she responded."
}
] | 211 | 1,821 |
417.75 | 2021-06-19 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nDespite his expression not changing, Bastien's mind went a blank for three seconds: one second during the merchant's comment, one for Calypso's rather intimate, unexpected gesture of leaning against him, and the last for her teasing remark: *\"Wouldn't you agree, my love?\"*\n\nHe cleared his throat as he eyed her cooly, internally torn between making a dry remark or letting Calypso continue her playful charade. Both she and the merchant looked at him expectantly, waiting for his reply.\n\nWith a soft sigh Bastien replied, \"Am I not the one who picked it out and went so far as to buy it?\" He moved his hand to hold her chin, tilting her head up so that they were eye-to-eye. His expression, while still being serious, softened slightly. \"I don't think he's being kind in saying you would look beautiful. I think he's being honest.\" He leaned forwards as if to kiss her cheek, but instead whispered into her ear with his deep voice the words: *\"Unlike you.\"*\n\n\"Such a handsome couple,\" The merchant said aloud to himself with an oblivious smile as Bastien moved his head away from Calypso's, taking his hand back. It was clear he believed Bastien had pecked Calypso's cheek instead of making a remark. \"Ah, to be young and in love. So nice a pair.\"\n\nThe vendor gave the neatly folded dress to Calypso, the dark red shimmering in the golden sunlight. \"Please, come back anytime. I make you another dress, or perhaps a suit for your husband.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nI wasn't like her to pull a prank like this often, but it was good exercise. \nAdmittedly, the young woman was ready for the consequences of her actions. She was prepared for Lord Bastian to turn around and reprimand her for her behavior. Maybe fully scolding her in the middle of the busy street. \n\nBut he didn't. To her surprise, he *Actually* Went along with the joke. Her astonishment concealed behind a sweet smile even as he lifted her chin. Their eyes met and for a moment Calypso wondered where did the lie begun or ended, as she noticed the softness of the young lord's gaze. Her heart fluttered as he leaned forward but thankfully he had simply used the movement to make a sly remark. She giggled delightedly as he pulled back \" Oh, you flatterer...\" Spoke her softly letting her head fall back on his arm. \n\nCalypso nodded at the words of the merchant taking the precious dress and putting it gently in her basket \"Will surely do sir, thank you, have a lovely day!\" And while offering him words of thanks, she let Bastian gently tug her away from the booth, the nobleman clearly wanting to escape the scene.\n\nShe let her head rest on his arm for a couple of more minutes waiting to be out of reach from the booth, before straining her posture back to her usual composure \"Well, that was an unexpected interaction!\" Chuckled her. The lovely young wife had disappeared from sight letting the way to the usual Calypso all smirks and sharp remark \"For a moment I thought you were going to slap me I have to admit! \" Laughed her \"But I highly appreciated seeing your little performance as the loving husband, I myself almost believed you. Maybe, my lord, you should leave the noble life and join the theater?\" Joked her, stroking her delicate fingers along his arm, wanting to enjoy this moment of unexpected fun just a little bit longer before the blade hit her neck. \n\nShe had no doubts that the nobleman might actually be angry or at least irritated by her little prank. But knowing him, Bastian was not going to act on those feelings in the middle of the crowd. \"Now be honest,\" Sighed her \"How atrocious will be my punishment for pulling such a disgraceful action on your person?\" Asked her with a half-smile, looking up at Bastian, waiting for him to snap at her."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nBastien had hidden his expression before now under an indifferent mask, but now his violet eyes studied Calypso as they walked back in the direction of the Maith Masion, ignoring the eyes that followed them as they walked by. An amused huff of air passed his lips at her suggestion of him striking her (the idea of doing such a thing was so out of his character it was amusing) or that he should go to join an acting troupe, but his eyebrows rose slightly at the mention of disciplining her.\n\n\"A punishment for such a disgraceful action?\" He echoed, holding her eyes with his. \"Yes, it was rather promiscuous of you to rest your head against my arm, wasn't it? And in a public setting as well.\" He tsked. \"I'm surprised I didn't hear people cry out at the indecency you displayed.\" His tone was serious and cool, but the corners of his mouth were still curled. He looked away from her to where they were walking.\n\n\"A punishment is not necessary,\" He said after a few seconds. \"You're a woman, not some beast that needs taming.\" His eyes flicked down to her again, a small amused smirk forming on his face. \"Though perhaps there is a wild animal somewhere within you.\" Slowly his gaze trickled down to her hands wrapped around his arm, caressing his bicep. \"You seemed quite eager to take physical liberties on me as soon as the opportunity presented itself.\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nQueen Anyanka Durkhan\nAboard His 16 Rings, Tonate Proper\n```\n\"A Southern Invasion isn't really in the cards for us, Jax.\" She reminded him, thought the comment came with a distracted look as she moved her gaze from him to the ship. It was true, the party wasn't what she'd expected. She'd not seen where her Chancellor and her husband had disappeared to, but knowing them it was probably somewhere secluded and with a bottle or two of stolen wine. Angelica was just as bad as herself, though the blonde woman tended to be more bold. She supposed she could afford to be, as she wasn't under the weight of two crowns. \n\n\"It could, but I'm glad for the moment alone.\" Her gaze finished it's cycle of the ship. The two Eclipse she'd dismissed when he arrived had taken a distance, but the few people who passed by kept well away from the Captain and Queen. \"There's something I needed you for, if you've got a moment to spare. I'd prefer a conversation with you where you're _not_ needed immediately to run off to tend to carriages and horses.\" She paused, and glanced to him before straightening, her hand reaching for his idly to graze her fingers against his own so he could take her hand if he wished. \"Let's go. The Staffords can handle themselves,\" She didn't mention the fact they probably _were_ \"And I'm itching to get out from under the eye of Bradai's staff.\" \n\nShe'd not missed the men planted around the ship, and whether or not they were specifically employed by the Pirate King or just wore the markings of it, she didn't quite care. They were allies, sure, but she had considered herself an ally to Northshore as well. Anyanka moved across the deck, heading off the ship with a passing glance to the Eclipse to fall into line behind their captain as they passed. It wasn't needed though, as the pair fell into step the moment she moved away from the radius of Jax's reach. He'd trained them well, and a small smile graced her lips for half a second before she continued on. \n\n\"We'll head back to our own ship, I want the privacy and a chance to change out of this dress.\""
}
] | 412 | 1,671 |
301.375 | 2021-06-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "do_69420",
"message": "The Stridsfaeddur\nSouthern Isles\n\nThe lack of conflict allowed for time to make things more homely in the Stridsfaeddur settlement, going from a hodge podge assembly of huts used as a springboard for raids, the income of trade from the merchants of the clans civillian populous as well as the raids conducted by Hvitskegg Steinrirsson brought in a fair volume of wealth, homes began to spring up in this new settlement, though the speed of the jungle's growth would envelope the settlement in green, these voracious plants were trimmed incessantly to little gain. The scene was strange, homes in the shapes of upturned ships with dragon figureheads looming over the doorways, a Jarl's hall, also known as a Gildenhallen, stood proudly in the center with shields along its circumfrence, beautiful exotic flowers spread across the surfaces and strange creatures unknown to the foreigners would hoop and holler as they jumped from tree to tree. \n\nIt was a meeting of north and south. Winter chill and tropical heat.\n\nThe men and women of the settlement were finished preparing for a holiday that would normally mark the beginning of the summer raids for them, shieldmaidens and raiders sat around a wooden totem of the godess Þjóðunn (Thyothun) singing songs of friendship and blood kin as they anticipate the next day's festivities. \n\nThey sing in their native tongue, \"Vin þínum ver þú aldregi fyrri at flaumslitum;\nSorg etr hjarta, ef þú segja né náir\nEinhverjum allan hug.\"\n\nThis roughly translates to\n\n\"Be never the first, to break with thy friend\nThe bond that holds you both,\nCare eats the heart, if thou canst not speak\nTo another all thy thought.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\n\n*\"You are not Some beast needed to be tamed.\"*\n\n*Father would disagree my lord.* Though her. The words bringing back memories of the numerous fights she had with her old man, each of them repaid with a small crumb of freedom being granted to her, as she slowly and painfully carved a space for herself where to stretch her wing and *Breath.* \n\nHowever, Bastian was still set on seeing things that weren't there, as he pointed out her more relaxed approach to physical touch. She followed his gaze with an unreadable expression. Observing her hands right as she was giving one last stroke to the powerful arm. An amused smirk bloomed on her lips as she glanced up at him, Dark eyes catching the light under long lashes \"You call me wild for such a small thing while you had never attempted to stop it.\" Spoke her charmingly. \n\n\"Actually, I'm pretty sure you initiated such practice, in your own way.\" Smirked her starting her attack \" After all, you were the one who offered me his arm to stroll down this street, or is my memory failing me?\" Stated her further, giving his arm another stroke, her eyes turned to the skin as to try to remember \"And if I don't recall wrongly, you were the one leaning closer to me to murmur my name right in my ear, on my early days at the Keep?\" Pressed her, the amused smile remaining unchanged as she pulled herself closer, soft chest pressing against Bastien's side \" And even at our very first encounter, I can remember a particular itch of your hand,\" Voice velvety smooth, alluding at when Bastian had started playing with her mourning veil. At the time such behavior had incredibly angered her. But now it almost seemed cute. \n\n\" So, by the following logic, \" Chirped and gave his arm a little squeeze \"You should be the one getting compared to a wild animal my dear Raven. \" The nick name strategically slipped frome her lips, just like her hands and eyes slipped away from Bastien body, bringing them far from him as she stepped back \"But if it causes you any discomfort, all you have to do is say a word and I'll never lye a single finger on you ever again, my lord. \" She raised her eyes again and pressed her hand on her chest \" I give you my wild animal's word.\" Chuckled her."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nHe wanted to remark on the growing possibility of Maith turning his spears to the mainland, but knew better, instead laughing as if it were a joke.\n\n\"Just a jest, Your Majesty, even if it is a poor one.\" He looked down at their hands and hooked his fingers with hers. Her remark about the carriages made his stomach turn, but still he chose not to persist, instead nodding at her wish to leave.\n\n\"Right away, Your Majesty. I've been told *Her Imperial Destiny* Is moored in the Hangman's Harbor, ready to depart at your word.\" He clicked his teeth and whistled at the pair following them, it was a red herring command, because he too noticed the servant's eyes lingering just too long for his comfort.\n\nThe bright side of Jax leaving to aid the carriages, was that they were waiting for the group as they exited the mansion. Once the doors closed and they were on their way, Jax spoke up again.\n\n\"Is everything alright, Your Majesty?\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nQueen Anyanka Durkhan \nAstorian Entourage, Tonate Proper```\n\nThey headed out without trouble, and even as the carriage shook when the two guards who accompanied them took their place atop it, her hand stayed firmly where Jax's hooked fingers wouldn't loosen. She stepped in, taking her usual seat and finally pulling her hand back to her own personage. The door closed behind Jax, and a moment later the wheels started to turn as they moved. A little bit away, she could hear the call of the second carriage and the sound of it starting down the path as well. \n\n\"Anya.\" She corrected, though she knew he tended to keep up formalities until they were completely alone. She didn't mind it, in fact she thought it endearing, but right now she wasn't trying to be his Queen. \n\nHer hand lifted, the weight of his fingers still felt even as she pushed her hair behind her ear, wishing she'd worn it pulled back so the sea air didn't make it feel less-than-it's-usual-slick texture. She did _not_ miss that about Vincentien. \n\n\"I'm telling you this because you need to know, and it's not something I want anyone outside of you and I knowing for the time being.\" Anya shifted, grey eyes settling on him with a second's hesitation before she just came out and said it. \"I'm pregnant.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nTonate Proper\n\nJax settled into the carriage as usual, keeping his sword free and easy to draw in case of an ambush. Once she finished her statement he appeared joyous at first.\n\n\"Congratulations, Your Majesty!\" And then, just as he finished, realization dawned on him. \"Oh... ***Oh!***\"\n\nHis eyes grew wide, his brain moving at a thousand times the speed as usual. He knew this was a risk, and even protested multiple times about this particular outcome, and yet here it was. He didn't know what to say. For the first time in years, he was afraid.\n\n\"H-how far along are you? Do you know?\" Was all he managed to squeak out."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nQueen Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper```\n\nIt took a moment, but he got there, and she couldn't help the soft exhale of a laugh. \"Not really for sure, things got a little hectic there after the council, I noticed when I stopped paying so much attention to this-\" Her hand lifted, pressing to her shoulder in indication of the shifter bite. It had been a little bit of a higher priority than noticing her cycle had shifted. \n\n\"Look, Jax, I'm not telling you this to scare you. I've lost a handful of pregnancies, this job doesn't exactly lend itself towards a stress free environment. There are three men on this carriage willing to give their lives for my own because people want me dead.\" Anyanka paused, scrunching her lips to the side briefly. \"Knowing myself, and the way life tends to go for me, this won't come to term. But, I felt you needed to know regardless.\" \n\nIt was hard, admitting that her body just didn't work the way she wanted it to. She'd wanted another child for years, prayed and begged and tried her damnest. Instead she outlived all her children - Mikhail twice, by her count. It didn't feel like the gods felt she was suite for the job, so she wasn't going to let herself get her hopes up about this. \n\nShe gave another small laugh, trying to break the tension as her brow knit together in concern and she leaned forward, reaching for his hand. \"You're white as a sheet, darling.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nTonate Proper\n\n\"There's four, don't forget I'm here.\" She laughed and it helped ease him slightly. He had just spoken to the Chancellor about this very risk only an hour before, and here it was. He squeezed her hand in response.\n\n\"If I had control over my pigment I promise I wouldn't be this way.\" He laughed, but he was still turning the wheels in his head. Multiple possibilities played out before him. He'd never been a father before.\n\n\"Are you going to keep it?\" As soon as he said it, he knew it was a stupid question, she wanted another child more than anything. Surprisingly, his thoughts drifted to Mikhail. What would the boy think? Oh gods, what would the rest of Marin think? Another bastard in the Durkhan line.\n\n\"Are you sure having a bastard is what you want?\" He choked, the next sentence catching in his throat, and never coming forward. He wanted to ask if they should marry, to prevent the scandal, but would she even marry him? Wasn't he just a fling? He didn't know."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nQueen Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper```\n\nHe corrected her count and she laughed, a genuine one this time that filled the cabin. \"I didn't forget, I was temporarily dismissing you of duty to process the shock of your Queen carrying your bastard.\" Saying it like that really brought it home how valid it woul be if he freaked out. \n\nHer brow furrowed at his question. Not in anger, but confirmation that it was, in fact, a very stupid question. \"Of course. I've wanted another child since Mikhail was young. The question isn't will I keep it, the question is will it survive.\" She'd be careful, of course. She'd been trying to be, but life had a tendency to come at her hard and fast. \n\nHer brow rose this time at his next question, and her hand squeezed his briefly. \"I have a bastard, Jax. Another isn't going to tarnish the name of 'The Whore Queen of Astoria.'.\" Still, her head tilted to the side as she looked over him. \"And besides, it's not exactly like marrying the local sweetheart. It's two crowns to consider, that's a heavy responsibility to take on on top of this, don't you think?\""
}
] | 277.5 | 2,411 |
624.333333 | 2021-06-22 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n \nBastien felt an odd tingling throughout his body as Calypso stroked his arm again, her voice teasing as she listed his own past trespasses of offering her his arm, or lowering his voice in her ear. He opened his mouth to rebuttal her points.\n\nThey were simply formalities, he told himself.\nBut before the words could leave his mouth, she was pressing her soft chest against his arm. His mind ceased to function for a few moments, and when it was working again properly he had to remember that they were in a public setting and she was just seeing what he would do. Certainly there was no deeper meaning to it. \n\nThen, she casually mentioned the dreaded veil incident with a squeeze before pulling herself away from him.\n\nThey continued to walk, apart now. Bastien was silent for a few moments, his cheeks slightly flushed but not because of the heat of the evening. That damn incident. It made him want to jump into the sea. He seemed suddenly interested in looking out at the booths around them instead of at Calypso.\n\nAfter a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat and then said, \"I attempted to apologize for that... Incident. Though I suppose I never did get to hear whether you accepted my... Apology.\" Bastien did not apologize often. And to be reminded of such an incident where he had was a bit painful to him. For him to apologize meant he must have done something simply unacceptable.\n\nThere were a few more moments of silence as they walked, and then he took a small step closer to her, almost unnoticeable to the naked eye, but he knew Calypso would notice. \"I didn't know it would make you uncomfortable by offering you my arm. And with the lowering of my voice...\" He cleared his throat again, scratching one of his high cheekbones in a subconscious manner. \"I suppose I didn't think how it would affect you, but I certainly didn't plan on it making you uncomfortable.\"\n** **\n\nLooking back at the booths in the other direction, he lifted his arm to her yet again. \"I'm not uncomfortable right now, \" He said quietly. He glanced down at her again, his normally cold and austere expression softening slightly, for a moment, as he asked, \n\n\"Are you?\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "Gyavin Drase, Head of House Drase and Lord of the Shrouds\nMaith Mansion\n\nGyavin earned himself more than a few black looks as he lurched towards starboard. He took no notice of them, of course, wearing only casual indiference on his face. Below his waist, bells tinkled along the hem of a varicoloured poncho, like a pack of tiny, yipping pets following his feet. \n\n\"Make way, m'lords and m'ladies,\" He said, a flat-toned command in a thick Islander accent. \"The Shah of the Shrouds is coming frough.\"\n\n\"M'lord, you really shouldn't say that,\" He heard Connard plead behind him. Judging by the man's voice, he was struggling to keep after Gyavin as the crowd thickened towards the edge. \"Not when there might be Amoroffis about.\"\n\nHe scoffed. \"Sod them. A few jokes aren't gonna cost the King any friends for is jolly little picnic up norf.\"\n\nJust short of the deck's edge, he found a small table bearing a jug of wine, and oblivious foreigners blocking the ways around. He pursed his lips, and pushed the table with a small nudge from his black leather boot. The jug nearly toppled and spilled its contents all over the fine white silks of a blanching noblewoman, but a speedy attendant managed to catch it just in time. Gyavin paid them no heed, strolling through the gap and laying his hands gently on the wooden railing.\n\nGyavin pushed some rogue strands of inky black hair out of his eyes, and smiled blissfully at what he saw. This wasn't his first time at the Mansion, but it was looking as handsome as ever. The Water Gardens flowed splendidly before them, and the dancing floor held an alluring promise. \"That looks like a good evening, I reckon.\"\n\n\"Certainly, m'lord.\" His guardsman, small and quick, and dressed in a crimson tunic overlain by a fish-net jacket, came up beside him. \"Will you be seekin your bruvver-in-law tonight, m'lord? The king, peraps?\"\n\nThe elation sloughed off of his face. \"I've no business wif Braddo today.\" Lifting a calloused hand to rub his face, he sighed. \"Suppose I might av a few words wif Kafolou. We'll see. Bearer grant me at least an arf-pint before anyone comes accostin me for smalltalk.\"\n\n\"Who ere would come to *You* For smalltalk, m'lord?\"\n\nGyavin shivered into one of his long, nasty cackles at that. \"So true, and so sweet, friend.\" His eyes lit up as he felt the ship shudder against the dock. Turning around, he channelled his voice with a hand and cried out, \"Wifeling! Oi, wifeling! Party's startin over ere.\""
},
{
"author": "nyxession",
"message": "Valria Drase, wife of Gyavin Draise and last remaining heir of Clan Drayim.\nMaith Mansion\n\nValria would shortly follow after her husband, hearing his shouts echo across the barge and dock. She took long strides, her heels clacking across the wood. She wore a magnificent silk dress, decorated in black embroidery that shimmered like the night above them. Valria'd step onto the dock, looking at her husband.\n\n\"You don't need to shout so loud, I'm right here,\" She chuckled, taking his hand, \"I'm pretty sure the entirety of Tonate Proper has heard you by now. Even of you, they'd call you 'Gyavin, the loudest man to ever walk Marin'.\"\n\nShe'd clear some dust off his shirt. Her gaze averted towards the mansion, as she pulled him towards it, forcing him to follow. \n\n\"You'd better behave yourself this time!\". Her tone was half serious, half light-hearted. \"Now let's enjoy ourselves tonight, shall we?\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nCalypso was basking in the glory of her small victory a satisfied smile store in her cherry lips as her eyes followed the flow of people around them. Surely it was quite petty of her to dig up that memory, knowing already how much Bastien felt guilty towards it. But still, no one called her a wild animal and expect to walk out of it untouched. It was nice to finally have put the high lord in his place, his presence nothing more than a silent ghost at her side.\n\nBut soon the silence was broken and Calypso's eyes went back to study the nobleman's expression as he spoke. It took every inch of strength in her body to not roll her eyes. How sensitive... And cute. Part of her enjoyed seeing that helpless expression on him\n\n. Her smiled took a slightly more sharp angle as she chuckled in response to his question. \"You have a very docile image of me in your head, my lord, for you to think that I would even be speaking to you if your presence made me in any way uncomfortable,\" Spoke her, mirroring his movement and stepping closer. \" Actually I would go as far as saying that if you truly had made me *So uncomfortable* That day, your hand would not be attached to your arm anymore my lord. \" Her tone was playful and light but that feeling didn't reflect in her eyes. \"But I'm glad to know that you learned from your mistakes.\" Ended her in a more soft tone. \n\nCalypso was about to wrap her arms around Lord De Lysse's arm when something caught her attention. People in front of them seemed to be moving aside. Calypso tried to understand what was happening around them to cause such movement, until she turned around. Eyes immediately catching on the bander. Gold shells on black and red background. \n\nHer breath catch in her throat. \nCalypso's hands quickly fell in front of her skirt, her playful expression completely disappearing from her face as she fixed her dress and veil. Making sure that everything was in order. \n\n\"Turn around and fix your shirt my lord.\" Was the only warning Calypso offered to her companion as she moved aside imitating the crowd but staying close to bastien."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "Ser Samsom Dumagne\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\n\"Will you be fighting?\" His sister asked. Samsom favoured her with a sliver of a smile, but it broke soon enough, and he contemplated the way ahead of them.\n\n\"Probably not. I ...\" He was going to blame uneasy sleep aboard the ship, but she knew that he'd travelled much, and that strange conditions rarely fazed him so. \"Perhaps I might. I'm not sure.\" He squinted at the skyline, which was starting to grow indistinct under the dying light. \n\n\"I'm more interested in getting a chance to meet so many foreigners lords and ladies. We've never had many connections abroad.\" He saw Lutur look at him pointedly, open his mouth, but Samsom cut him off, \"Ibbish mercenary contracts hardly count, my lord.\" And to that his brother's face blanked for a moment, then Lutur looked away with a sigh. Samsom gave his sister one of his characteristic mild smirks. \"An axe or a blade 'connecting' with a Northwinder neck doesn't count either.\"\n\nThe bustle of Islanders thickened all around them as they came upon the marketplace. Samsom glanced around at children chasing hoops, merchants drawing customers to long boards lain out with spices and silks and jewels, their stalls shielded from the sun by sheets and skins, while timber and red-stone walls formed an extensive perimetre around the market.\n\nLutur hmphed at the sight. \"Very—\" They watched a rat scurry out from a shadow, and stop to nibble at a small sprinkle of ... Something. One of the guards kicked a shower of dust at it, and it scurried off to the next embrace of shade. \"Very colourful,\" Lutur finished flatly. \"Not quite as serene as Elegorgou or Potruuxou, but let the heathens have their heathen inclinations, I suppose.\" \n\nOnwards they went, Lutur being careful to sidestep the filth at which the rat had been pecking. Samsom found his eyes drawn hither and thither to the strange, foreign figures they passed. \n\nA man of considerable years sat on a stool, bare, sagging chest bissected crossways between shadow and sunlight. He murmured a broken tune to himself as he pared an orange with a small, unsteady knife. When their proffession marched past him, his dark eyes met with Samsom's. Father used to bring him grapefruits when he'd stop by Elegorgou after tours to the south. He'd shown him how to cut them, but when Father had worked the knife on the fruit, he'd been quicker, more reckless. The old man's swarthy, weathered face cracked into a big smile. Even though the man's teeth were yellowed and rotten from citrus, he still kept on peeling his orange.\n\nAfter they were well past the man's little corner, Samsom's nose was struck by an assault of striking aromas. He looked right to see a man and a woman standing behind a broad display of perfumes, some contained in simple flacons, others in elaborate bottles styles with what he knew to be phoenix imagery. Araedians. They both had their dark, wavy hair pulled back into buns, bronze skin smooth and glistening with oil. They were speaking to each other in the nasally flow of Petaltongue, of which he could catch a few words. During the Vronti's reign, he'd gone down and sworn his sword to an Araedian lord for nearly two years. He couldn't stomach what that man had been doing to Terresol. And while he was away, Father had been slain on the road. *What if I'd been there with him*? After he heard of that, he withdrew his service to the Araedian, and vanished into the clamour of Erba for weeks on end to blow half the money he'd earned on all the wanton pleasures he could find. Such rakishness had been unlike him; before then, he'd been pious, and even timid. But so had it been unlike Terresol to put men to the flame for their love, or for Dumagnes to bow down to a heretic and a usurper. He remembered the smell of wine and sweat. Perfume to banish the ugliness of it all. Araedian perfume, alive with the essence of flowers.\n\nHe saw another couple then. They seemed foreign, but not Araedian. In fact, the woman looked like she was from Sol to him, judging by the design of her blue, embroidered dress, and the light veil about her black hair. The man she was linking arms with couldn't have been Terreme, for he had hair so fair that it seemed almost burning-white in the sun. He was taller than even their dragon sister, and dressed only in an airy white shirt and pants. There wasn't a man in Sol who would dress so modestly, especially in such a charged setting. It seemed like they were heading the same way they were.\n\nAfter a while, he felt the impulse to call out to his countrywoman, beckon their company along the way. When he saw the shorter lover soften against her partner's side with considerable intimacy, he reconsidered. \"Those two make a fine couple,\" He murmured to Peraz. \"I think the woman is Terreme. Look at her dress. And the man... Ibbish, perhaps?\" He could imagine a patriarch in the great city marrying his daughter off to some Ibbish mercenary lord. \"Probably trying to catch some a golden hour together before they have to deal with the likes of us.\" He smirked ruefully, then went on more quietly, \"Or at least the likes of...\" And he nodded to their lord-brother.\n\nHis eyes returned to the couple, and he noted with a grimace that they were walking apart from each other now. \"Oh. Maybe I cursed them with my words.\" Despite himself, he became quite invested in the air between these two strangers, and felt his heart flutter a little when he saw the man slowly inch closer to his lady. \"Seems they've put aside whatever it was. Auryn has blessed them.\"\n\nLutur looked up to the sky. \"This won't do. We need to hasten ourselves, lest our tardiness miconvey our honour to everyone at the mansion. Come!\" He urged them on with waving arms. His guards quickened their pace alongside him. Samsom followed suit; he didn't share Lutur's anxieties, but the energy to walk like this always came naturally to him, so he offered no complaint. He only worried about the two up ahead. \n\n\"I fear we're interrupting a delicate moment,\" He opined to Peraz with a hint of a frown on his face. The woman turned her head—he didn't recognize her—and something seemed to change about her bearing after she took note of the banner being carried aloft by one of the guards. It was quite an alarming thing, he thought, with the sharp crimson and the black and the stark golden scallops punching through in a trio."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nHe saw Calypso step closer to him. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as she spoke of not being uncomfortable around him, and if she was how she would have removed his hand from his body. He doubted that, but admired her spirit. *'Cute,'* He thought. He saw her move to put her hands on his arm, but then suddenly stopped as she glanced behind them.\n\nAt Calypso change of demeanor and warning words, Bastien's face lost all of its faint traces of a smile as it instantly reverted back to holding its signature genteel, aloof, and icy expression. There was someone of importance behind them, no doubt, with how the crowd was parting and staring. He casually brushed a hand down his shirt and pants to remove dust as he straightened to his full, towering height. His posture, poised but relaxed only moments before, was now rigid and elegant as he held his head high before he turned. Calypso stayed beside him as he looked at what the crowd was staring at. He knew his clothing, though high quality and fashionable, was simple. His posture and expression, however, displayed his highborn status.\n\nThe stark red and black of the banners caught his eye immediately, and the golden scallops not a second later as the small parade of guards continued walking closer at a brisk pace. Lips parted slightly as his amethyst eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre, for only a moment, as he noticed someone in the procession: a tall woman, wearing a traditional Terresolian clothing and a kemenike. He managed to look away after a few beats, thankfully having not made eye contact. Not even a second later his face returned to its normal frigid appearance as he gazed down at one of their arbitrary guard. His mind raced as the woman's face burned in his mind and brought to light memories of the distant past. With the pace at which the procession approached, it seemed he wouldn't be able to reminisce for long."
}
] | 479.5 | 3,746 |
343.4 | 2021-06-23 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Lady Peraz Dumagne\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\n\"Do try to be kind, Lutur. The king would not think so highly of you were he to know the disrespect you hold for his city.\" Peraz said though her eyes were not fixed on any rat or pile of rubbish, instead they were caught on the beauty of the marketplace and the people that filled it.\n\nShe watched as a group of children ran through the crowds with a wooden hoop, weaving through shoppers. At the back was a little red headed boy, holding a smaller boy who looked close to sleep on his back as he followed his friends, laughing and yelling along with them. It brought a small smile to her face to see.\n\nNext she took note of the diversity of the city. While the bulk of the crowd was still the warm skinned islanders in their bright coloured clothing, she still managed to spot the high necked collars of Azaryans and the plain Taemar fashions she had only ever briefly seen.\n\n\"Hmm?\" Peraz hummed as her brother caught her attention once more,\"Oh yes, what a pretty dress she's wearing. I wonder if we know her.\"\n\nThere was something in the public intimacy between the couple that made Peraz's face flush under her makeup. She and Adrien had never been so public with their affections but there was something very endearing about the way the couple were getting on. It took a moment to realise as they were getting closer that there was something eerily familiar about the \"*Ibbish*\" Boy.\n\nA short laugh escaped Peraz,\"I don't believe you could ever curse anyone in earnest.\" She told Samsom with a soft squeeze to the arm she was holding. \n\nWith Lutur's quickened pace, Peraz glowered at the back of the young lord's head. She would never complain about this pace they had taken on but that she was having to lift her skirts as she walked now and she preferred keeping her hands free, and with the flimsy weight of the Kemenike pinned to her headscarf she feared it slipping.\n\nIn no time at all it seemed they were approaching the couple and Peraz's eye caught the man's. His face was familiar and reminded her of summer days as a child, mucking up the hem of her skirts while she played sword fighting in the grass of the courtyard. *It couldn't be*, she thought, *He's dressed so plainly. He's gotten taller*.\n\n\"Guards, halt a second!\" She called through her company (almost hoping to Lutur's annoyance) as they came face to face with the couple. And sure as day it was her childhood friend.\n\n\"This cannot be Lord Bastien de Lysse?\" Peraz said in a faked rising inflection, letting her face break into a grin as she addressed him.\"Last time I saw you you were a head shorter than me!\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "Ser Samsom Dumagne\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\n\"Lord Bastien?\" Samsom followed his sister's gaze, scrutinizing the man's face. By all the gods, it *Was* Him: the white-haired son of Exarch Cyprien, stony-faced as ever. Remembering their time together fighting Vronti, Samsom decided to give him a soldier's salute, striking the resplendent, gem-lined silver plates on his breast and inclining his head. \"It's good to see you again, man,\" He said with a small but earnest smile. \"You look well.\"\n\nWith his head bowed, he threw a glance at Lutur. A mere glimpse was enough to see the anger and confusion on his lord-brother's face. Lutur often had trouble keeping up, especially when he was so anxious. Samsom knew exactly how his demeanour would change in a moment, once he realized who they'd come across.\n\nSamsom, for his part, knew half of who'd they'd come across, but the other half was a total stranger. He hadn't heard of Bastien taking a wife. Whoever she was, she was carrying an air of reticence, eyes held low. \"And who might this be?\" He asked, offering with a gesture to kiss her hand."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nOnce his name left Lady Dumagne's lips, Bastien felt the eyes of the crowd prickling at his back and a faint murmuring hum of people talking to one another under their breath at his expense. A faint tenseness of irritation washed over him as an inaudible sigh left his lips. *'So much for the prospect of anonymity,'* He thought dryly. But at the bright smile on Peraz's face, his frustration departed as soon as it came. Her earnest smiles, which he had not seen for so long, were still as effective as her sword when used against him.\n\nBefore he could reply to her greeting, Samson interjected. Bastien returned Samson's salute with a courteous nod, appreciating the few extra seconds Samson had bought him. \"It is good to see you again as well,\" He said as he glanced over the guardsmen and managed to see Lutur scowling, obviously confused. His eyes went back to Samson as the young man addressed Calypso.\n\nHis expression did not change as he gave a small gesture towards the dark-haired woman. \"This is Lady Kolgrim,\" He said, his tone polite but formal. Nonchalant. \"She is my youngest sister's lady-in-waiting.\"\n\nAfter that, he turned his attention back to Peraz and her bright smile. A well of confusing emotions stirred inside of him as he gazed at her, his hard expression softening. \"You always were taller than me,\" He finally said, offering his hand to kiss hers. A faint smile, a bit bittersweet, crossed his face as he looked down at her. \"Ten years gave me enough time to catch up, I suppose.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \n\nTonate Proper | The Shrouds\n\nNobles recognize each other's, that was a given. But still Calypso had not expected the members of that imposing parade to so openly address Bastien's presence. \n\nShe kept silent, eyes low on the ground, as the group exchanged greeting, content in remaining invisible to the eyes of the crowd and of the highborns. But her peace didn't last long as someone approached her. \n Her eyes blinked up in surprise, meeting the gray ones of her interlocutor. He seemed a kind man but she knew better than to trust appearances. \n\nBefore she could reply, Bastien was quick to spare her the embarrassment to introduce herself. The men must have mistaken her for some higher member of society. \n\"It's a plesure to meet you, Sir.\" Spoke gently, as she bowed in an elegant curtsy, before offering the man her hand and a sweet smile \" Have you just arrived at the Isles? \" Asked her aderssing the trio, in an attempt to make small talk, but not expecting to get paid any attention for the rest of the conversation."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Lady Peraz Dumagne\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nIt had been a decade since she had last seen Bastien. A decade ago she was still a child in many ways. She could still remember sitting with him and her brothers and sister under trees in the summer, playing games with dice and cards and he had been so awkward and gangly. Now she was happy her Kemenike kept her appearing taller than him and the childish urge to embrace an old friend was strong enough for her to shake her head a moment to remind herself of the impropriety.\n\nThe lady gave him her hand to kiss and chuckled,\"Then I shall have to wear taller hats.\"\n\nWhen she was given a moment she curtsied to his partner and gave the girl a kind smile - hoping it hid her surprise that they did not seem to be courting,\"A pleasure to meet you Lady Kolgrim. May I say how gorgeous your dress is, I admired it as we approached.\"\n\nShe hoped her idle chat would save the poor girl from her youngest brother's attention. He didn't seem to be kind to anyone he deemed lower than their family."
}
] | 280 | 1,717 |
250.5 | 2021-06-24 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nTonate Proper\n\n\"That is exactly why I worry, Anya. Two kingdoms, two crowns, two bastards, and this is year two of me serving you. You have to admit it bears the beginning of a bad omen. What if I just brought your empire to ruin by not being responsible?\" He was panicking. The common number, and his great superstition mounting with his anxiety could only mean something terrible was going to happen. In a moment of weakness he broke down.\n\n\"I'm terrified, Anya, I'm a terrible choice for a father.\" He sunk his head into the palms of his hands."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "Queen Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper\n\nAnya pressed her lips to the side, watching as he took a moment to explain what sounded like superstition. She exhaled softly, moving from her seat across from him into the one beside him. Her hand found his wrist, carefully trying to coax his hand down so she could see his face. \n\n\"Jax, darling. You're finding meaning in things that carry none. I've spent two years with you by my side keeping me safe from my own stupid decisions.\" Her concerned look melted a bit, and she offered him a soft laugh and a smile. \n\n\"Jax I've wanted another child for so long. I've wanted _your_ child for about a year. This does not scare me. My kindgoms won't fall because we fucked all those months ago.\" \n\nHer expression softened, and she pressed a careful kiss to his shoulder. \"And if it matters, I think you're a fine choice to be a father. But, like I said before, I've lost a handful, I don't think you'll have to worry about this. I'm telling you because..\" She paused. \"Well because I want you on board to stay at my side. I don't want you to run over this.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nTonate Proper\n\n\"Except at the Council.\" He hissed at her remark. \"If I was a competent man I would have stopped the shifter. My sword is silver for God's sake, I should have stopped her.\"\n\nHe let her take his one hand, but only pressed his forehead into the other harder, almost turning away from her new position.\n\n\"We haven't talked about my failure there yet. We should. I think you should find a guard capable of protecting your line. Those moths...\" His voice drifted as he thought back to the ritual, \"They were obviously wrong, I'm no protector if I can't even stop one assassin.\"\n\n*Heath stopped them.*\n\n*I know.*\n\n*You could never be him. You could never even pretend!*\n\n\"I know!\" He spoke aloud, catching himself a moment later, \"I know you would rather have someone like Heath Romanov protecting the Durkhans.\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper\n\nAnother reason so beat himself up over something he'd not been fully responsible for. She'd been attacked because she'd left the Eclipse behind, thinking Romanov would keep her safe for the time she needed to buy his word to help keep Mika sheltered from chaos a little longer. \n\n\"If I blamed you for what happened at the council I would have told you as much. You've done your job every time you've been tasked with it, you're tasked to keep me safe, not to babysit.\" He had turned away from her and she pursed her lips once more. \n\n\"Heath Romanov has been the reason for a _lot_of hurt for the Durkhans. When will you stop comparing yourself to him? When you've outgrown his own achievements, because you're on track to do so. Head of the Queen's guard, father to a prince,\" She paused, and let the last one set as a possibility, hoping it didn't weigh too heavy \"King, if the title was wanted.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nTonate Proper\n\n\"Tasked to keep you safe, yet you have a lovely scar to prove I failed at that.\" He dodged the other question on purpose.\n\nWhen would he stop trying to surpass Heath? He was on the Kingsguard at the same age, and they both held the same position theoretically. He asked himself instead.\n\n*When, then? I've proven myself his equal in every regard.*\n\n*When did he acknowledge you? He didn't even recognize you when you delivered your resignation in person.*\n\nThat stung deeper than he thought, but he was with Anya, she deserved to know.\n\n\"He was my superior officer, we had the same scores in the Academy, and yet he still won't acknowledge me. Does he even know I'm still alive? I stood in front of him and his face held no recognition whatsoever.\" He paused, his breath shaky. He could feel a flashback coming on. \"He's the best knight in Feyshore, we all aspired to be him. How could I not compare myself to him? He's even the father of Prince Mikhail, and now I've created another bastard. I'm following in his footsteps along every curve, he is me, and I'm incompetent.\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper\n\nHer eyes almost rolled, but she caught the motion before it did, her eyes casting upwards briefly before they closed so she could settle the urge to tell him he was being ridiculous. It wasn't helpful, and honestly she could see why he was flustered, but didn't understand the insecurity. \n\n\"The scar wasn't your fault, and if you continue to try and blame yourself for it, I'll correct you every time. Romanov's shifter bitch acted on her own.\" \n\nHe had let her take his wrist before, and her hand slid up over his palm, fingers lacing into his own and squeezing tightly as she shifted in her seat to face him better. \n\nShe may have been on rocky terms with Heath right now, but he was still an impressive man. Still the first one she'd ever loved, and it hurt to watch someone else she loved crushing himself with the weight of the comparison. If she looked, she could see it too, but she pushed the thought away that maybe she'd fallen so heavily into Jax because of the similarities. Heath was impressive, but he also was a disaster in his own right. But of course Jax wouldn't know that. \n\n\"That was years ago. You have to stop idolizing this man.\" As she said them, she realized Angelica had told her something similar once. She pinkened, but continued. \"Jax, darling, no one is finding you lacking when compared. I've known and worked with and loved both of you. There are similarities yes, the situations you've both found yourself in are similar, yes; but you're a different man.\" Her hand tightened once more and she squeezed, lifing their hands so she could press a careful kiss to the back of his. \"If you were incompetent you'd not hold the position you do. You'd not hold any authority in my kindgoms. You'd not hold me or my heart. Please take a moment to acknowledge that in yourself.\""
}
] | 240 | 1,503 |
852.75 | 2021-07-06 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nBarracks, Maith Mansion \n\n\"Aye, look at me. I've gone from a nameless Terresi peasant to the most famous pirate Marin's ever known. I've met kings, and I've killed one.\" Valkrin walked to the door and opened it, extending his arm for her to take and make their way to the ball. \"So to tell you the truth, no, I don't believe I'm cursed. I'm blessed by the gods if you ask me, I can go anywhere I want whenever I want.\" \n\nThere would be at least some guests in the ballroom by now, and the captain needed a drink.\n\n\"Besides, I can't imagine a better end for the legend of Valkrin Farensun than death at the hands of the most beautiful woman in the Isles,\" He laughed as they continued through the halls."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nBarracks, Maith Mansion\n\nShe shook her head slightly at his joke, not finding it nearly as entertaining as he apparently did. This wasn't a joke! Her pain wasn't a joke!\n\nRegardless, she followed him through the halls towards the ball. At the moment, she wasn't in the mood to dance and party, but she hoped that the music and dancing would be enough to lighten the mood. No doubt a little bit of alcohol would take the edge off. \n\nAs they arrived at the doors to the hall, she glanced up at him and gave a crooked, wobbly smile, \"You're a fool, you know that?\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "His Majesty Bradai-Daran Maith, The Pirate King of the Southern Isles\nThe Ball at the Maith Mansion, The Water Gardens\n\nThe crowns his wives had chosen for themselves were verging on the ridiculous. There were fifteen wives in total, which meant fifteen crowns had to be produced. The problem was not the supply of crowns, however. Bradai had been given more crowns than he could count. A crown was the best gift you could give a King, second only to skulls. There had been many Kings in the Isles before the Unification, and for every kingly skull, there were at least three kingly crowns. Islander Kings were nothing without their treasure. The Tides Barer was said to have worn crowns of blue silver, pearls, and black teak wood, all with gemstones the color of roiling storm and whale hide. His first crown, the one fashioned from dark brass and turquoise, was simple and understated. That was the one everyone knew him by, the one he wore to the joust and to the councils. He had a simple gold band wrought with old runes for religious ceremony and a wide brimmed straw hat. And the other five were either made from wood, and those he had only collected out of small personal interest. He would never wear a crown of wood in front of a Mainlander King. At best, it was an insult to their traditions of religious kingship. At worst, it was proof that Islanders still put roots atop their heads and proclaimed themselves Gods. It had never occured to anyone to tell his wives that, though.\n\nHe watched as the seventh wife, the Evenkeel, pulled on a knit leather cap, embroidered with cloth of silver. The embroidery shone like the scales of a fish in the firelight, and if she turned her head, the image a kraken was briefly seen, as if illuminated by a strike of lightning. He watched as the Sarim wife and the Dwyer wife exchanged thoughts on their matching hats, Araedian monstrosities with curving gold wings, glittering red silks and rubies. The tribal wife Sathack wore a heavy band of pure, white moonstone on her brow, ignoring the weight of it against her head as she tied cream, white, pink, and lime feathers into the hair of the Pebbles wife. \n\nWhen he looked back to the book on his lap, he felt a weight upon him. Sure enough, there was Lella Codd, with her hands on the back of his chair, leaning him with an intense look on her face. She was his second wife and perpetually curious of him in spite of, and perhaps also because of, the blindness she had been given at birth.\n\n\" 'er mother 'ad been diseased. Cursed by a sea devil.\" Mac-Calcana Codd had told him, when he surrendered all of his daughters to him on the deck of his escape ship. \"'She took 'er eyes on the way out, but the girl is fine for fucking, if that's what yer after.\"\n\nThat was not what Bradai had been after. When he chose her that night, she began to sob, but with the hard cold rain on her cheeks and her wide, milky eyes, it looked like she was choking.\n\nBut for better or for worse, he and Lella were married. He was her husband, and she was one of his many Pirate Queens. She had gone in fear of him for the first year, but when she invited herself to his dinner, the two had learned that they both enjoyed music and the feeling of their feet in cold beach sand. When he sat in the library, sometimes she joined him, sitting in a chair next to him or by the fire if it was raining. She never abided by his rule of silence for very long however, and was often forced to dismiss herself. \n\n\"Whattre you reading?\" She asked, just in time for Bradai to close the book and tuck it beneath his chair. \n\n\"A treatise on rice conservation.\" The Pirate King responded. \"We are eating a lot of rice tonight.\" \n\n\"Ah.\" She said, rounding the highbacked chair to sit where his right arm had been perched. \"That sounds awful.\" She placed a hand on the back of his head and slowly began to take off his crown. His hand shot up and snatched it away from her. \n\n\"What is _truly_ awful—\" He straightened the crown on the top of his head. \"Is running out uff rice at sea. Tha men we 'ave going to war, vhey're going to need to eat somefink when vhey're sailing. Rice, wiff fings in it. Fruits and fish and meat, all at once. Vhey'll eat it tonight, at tha ball. You'll like it.\"\n\n\"Can I see your crown?\" Lella asked, holding out an empty palm. He had made it clear that she could not simply reach for things if she wanted them anymore, she had to ask. He had long ago made the mistake of thinking that just because Lella was blind, that she didn't know where things were or what they looked like. What she really had a problem with was being told no. \n\n\"Fine.\" The Pirate King put the crown in her lap and watched as her fingers inspected it deftly. \n\n\"The brass?\" She asked, and when he said yes, she placed it back on his head and gave a curt, \"Boring.\" \n\n\"Fank you, Lella.\" He said, recrossing his leg and pulling at the book with his free arm. \"Now if you excuse me I—\" \n\n\"I need a crown.\" She said. \"I want a nice crown. Can you get one for me. A boring, nice one. Like the brass.\" \n\nThe Pirate King paused and pursed his lips. He sighed, standing up from his chair and inspecting the display his servants had brought up from the vaults. He placed a hand over his mouth and wordlessly inspected them all, until he settled on one yet untouched.\n\nThe delicate Taemish tiara, with oval cut amber set into the ends of silver fireflies, had been passed over for more flashy headwear. The design was complex up close, but from far away appeared as simple and standard has his own. Without a second thought, he placed it in Lella's hands. \n\nShe felt it over for what felt like a half an hour before slipping it onto her head.\n\n\"You look very pretty.\" He said. It had not been a lie. She was lithe and her freckles were dark. Again he began to reach for his book, to continue learning about silo construction and ideal portion sizes. \n\n\"Are you 'andsome?\" Lella took her fingers and slid them beneath the ribbons, edging up the fabric so that her white eyes could spy at him. He did not know how to reply.\n\n\"Ask your sisters in wifery.\" He said, opening the book onto his lap and looking at the pages to avoid her gaze. \"Don't vhey talk about it?\" \n\n\"They say you look like an average man. Like an old dock worker, they said. 'ow am I to know what a streetwalker or an oar puller looks like? You've got a big beard and a long nose and a set of pale eyes, like mine.\" She smiled, exposing two rows of straight white teeth. If she hadn't been born blind, she would have fetched a large dowry.\n\n\"A little bit darker vhen yours, I'm afraid.\" A small smile crossed his face and for a moment, he let his guard down. \"Do you fink I'm 'andsome?\" He watched as the thought crossed her face, and the longer he looked into the white depths of her blind eyes, he knew the answer.\n\n\"No.\" She said, shaking her head. He didn't know what he had expected, or what to make of that. She folded her hands in her lap, slid off the arm of the chair, and walked away. \n\nWhen Silas called the hall to attention, he, his court, his wives, and the guests of honor all stood to make their way out to the ball.\n\nTHE BALL\nTHE MAITH MANSION\n\nOn any other day, the wives of the Pirate King were hostages. They had been given over to secure a peace pact and were often regarded as disposable. Twice a wife had to be replaced, but for the original fourteen, their home had been the Maith Mansion and the district of Redwall. Rumors of rape, torture, and hideous orgies of writhing pleasure circulated in seedy taverns and high courts across the whole realm. Fishwives and smallfolk trembled at the thought of being carried off into the black night to join the Pirate King's harem. But for the night at least, fifteen Pirate Queen greeted the audience at the Maith Mansion.\n\nThey were paraded out one at a time, escorted by a member of the Pirate King's court, a guest of honor, or one of his siblings. They were bedecked in outfits as countless and unique as their origins. Small, tall, old, young, pretty, lovely, radiant, all fifteen Pirate Queens had escorted their husband out from the large double doors that separated the royal library from the large balcony that overlooked the Water Gardens and Royal Harbor. One by one they look a seat at the long royal table, covered in expensive robes and furs that could not have been worn in the heat of midday. Gemstones sparkled on their rings, necklaces and bangles like stars in the night sky. One wife, ten years the King's elder, had the arm of the Seneschal and one cigar belonging to the captain of the city watch between her smiling yellow teeth. Clan Dwyer, Clan Geare, Thissle, Fuller, Whipper, Evenkeel, Codd, Rettyreed, Rillreed, Pebbles, all of the major northern clans had come to lend their strength to the Pirate King's call to arms.\n\nThe immensely fat Bosun Dwyer had unveiled the Isles' newest warship in Windrip, The Ear Stealer's Wickedness, or simply Wickedness, and had sailed it into the city today. It was one of the largest in its class of Leviathans, and was dwarfed only by the Quay, and not by very much. It would go under the command of his sister and lead the fleet North when they were ready to shove off. \n\nGalt-Jon Geare had brought every son of fighting age and twice as many barrels of fine Zulprisan rum which, between puffs on his long bone pipe, he declared to be the newfound favorite drink of the next Terresi King. \n\n\nTall Thesmond Thissle swore that all of the Pirate King's ships would take on the extra provisions at Cloverhold, and had given him a ledger of the goods set aside as a present. That, plus the twenty cattle they had given over for the feast, was a reminder of their importance. \n\nDozens more, Privateers and Kingsmen all, had made their way beside the King on his table, until only the high seat in the middle remained.\n\nAt the height of sunset, the Water Gardens were at their most vibrant. The leaves and lilypads were never greener, the bay was never more teal, and the Maith Mansion was never a brighter shade of red than when the sun crossed over the ridge of the battlement, the beams of light skipping like stones across the bay to splash against the library's great open arches. When the Pirate King came out and stood before them, the colors of day faded to the greys, purples, and dull blues of nightfall. They all took a knee when he entered, sending the festivities into a hush, save for the sounds of the harbor and the screeching of cicada and cricket. He stood there, sternly, inspecting all of them at once. But when he raised the head of his cane in the air, the torches, braziers, bonfires were all set ablaze and, as if from nowhere, the world erupted.\n\nSweetrind, the court fool, heralded the servants, playing a jaunty melody on a tiny wooden flute with hands twice the size of an average man. Behind him was a dancing bear, the same height as him, with a similarly small horn in tow. Great chained lizards, peacocks, walking birds all of shapes and sizes, and twelve snakecharmers, their skin the color of well oiled leather, began to walk along the tables, making themselves acquainted with the guests as the first of many meals was passed out. Behind them were endless barrels of wine, mead, ales, and rum. \n\nThe animals were the least of it, however. Just as soon as Sweetrinds tune came to an end, squeezeboxes, violins, drums, and chanting took up in its place. It was an old rowing tune, given new life by the size of the band and the strength of their instruments. Some Islanders couldn't help themselves and jumped up from the feast entirely to go out onto the ballroom floor. They were joined by swordswallowers, fire breathers, contortionists, jugglers, and a group of mummers that looked intent on setting up a play front.\n\nOut beyond the dance floor, over the railing, the lights of the harbor, conservatory, and pleasure barge went up as well. \n\nGreat cauldrons of soup were ladled out into yellow clay bowls. The first course was a warm red soup, thick and filling. Baby rays bobbed at the creamy surface, their soft bodies stuffed with herbs and cheese. Once it was poured, the servants spread coconut milk across the top in a wide arc, white against red. When the Pirate King brought the spoon to his lips and swallowed one whole, the feast officially began."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nThe Ball at Maíth Mansion \n\n\"I'm aware I'm a fool,\" Valkrin chuckled as they entered the ballroom, \"You'll come to love it.\" \n\nAs the Royal Court paraded themselves in, Valkrin and Catarina made their way through the crowd. In the light of the evening sun, his amber eye practically glowed as he scanned the vast assembly in the room. \n\n\"Feel free to enjoy yourself, Ms. Tanner, I'm not going to force you to stay by my side all night. All I ask is you save me a dance.\" Valkrin straightened his clothing, a clean white shirt beneath a black leather vest with amber trim. \n\nThe soup was mediocre at best, and he'd passed on the coconut milk, but the captain found himself tapping his foot along to the music that filled the air."
}
] | 180.5 | 3,411 |
313.666667 | 2021-07-07 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball at Maith Mansion\n\nAt least for the meal, she chose to stay at his side. There were too few people on the dance floor, and already she felt like she stood out a little too much for her liking. A peasant woman, bedecked in finery that was far above her station, sitting at the arm of a pirate? Once the dancing really got going, she could lose herself in the crowd, floating from arm to arm, man to man. \n\nFor now, she raised a glass of wine to her lips, taking long, slow gulps as the familiar sweet and sour fermented taste slide across her taste buds. She intended to be absolutely sloshed by the end of the night.\n\nShe peered over the rim of her glass, taking in the finery all around her. She had never seen anything quite like it, even though she had lived in Sol and passed in the same circles as Queen Charity Lane. Nothing could have prepared her for the bawdy spectacle that she now witnessed. A zoo of creatures, the Pirate King's beautiful harem, the boisterous music, and the contortionists and jugglers... If it weren't for the fact that she was keeping herself occupied, she would have been sitting there gaping like a fish!\n\nWhen she finally set her glass down, her eyes remained fixated on the spectacle around her as she spoke with Valkrin and the other guests around her. Idle chit chat, none of which was important."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nArin was shocked when he held the sack back in his hands, and looked up at the strange man standing in front of him. \n\n\"I... Can... I am thankful. It just... Doesn't feel as if I'm doing the right thing accepting this from you. You saved my life, and for that I offer it in return. It's only fair.\" He said, taking deep breaths between every few words. He grimaced, before gripping his jaw and pushing it back into place with a cry of pain. After a moment he opened it, and with a loud pop, the pain slowly lowered into a dull roar.\n\n\"My name is Arin Cragton. One day, on my life, I will find a way to repay you.\" He said, looked up where the man's eyes would be. The bruises and cuts along his face made for a poor sight, but he was serious. His debts never go unpaid, and he wasn't going to start now.\n\nBefore long, ale was brought to the table. Arin quickly took a sip, and grimaced as his dry throat painfully pushed the dark liquid into his belly. He placed two gold coins down on the table, and looked up at the owner of the building. \n\n\"I'll take anything.\" He said softly, before closing his eyes slowly. He was in so much pain, but no tear fell. He held it all in, and concentrated on letting his muscles relax as best they could."
},
{
"author": "chirpycloud",
"message": "Althea and Adonia Orviati\nThe Ball at Maith Mansion\n\nThe event was bountiful, life teeming at the edges of a celebration that didn't really have any specificity where the twins were concerned. A party was a party, and they knew how to have a good time when it called for it. \n\nThe troublesome twins were reunited and rejoiced, knowing their time together would be limited. It was better to make the most of it, and the two had plans to do so. Though, the bigger picture was the blaring image in their minds. \n\nTheir short-lived reunion was a joyous one, it hardly remained at the forefront of their focus or their thoughts, the task at hand more pressing than the frivolous nature of the environment. \n\nA goblet of wine gently graced the skeletal hand of the older twin, rosy lips dancing at the rim in a warm sip, cerulean hues scanning the premises in a search for her target. Pale, slender digits merely passed on the glass to her younger sibling, wanting nothing but to share in their indulgences as they handled their respective business. \n\nHailing the tightly fitted obsidian robes allowed for smoother, yet swift motions to slip into and out of the sea of individuals. Undetected. *Unnoticed.* Subtly identifying the corresponding targets, the twins shot one another a knowing gaze, almost as if their telepathy spoke volumes of what is to come for the two of them. \n\nThe two parted ways quietly, with the hopeful desire of linking arms yet again."
}
] | 313 | 941 |
582.833333 | 2021-07-08 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik smirked beneath his mask, such an innocent view of how the world works beyond humans was rare to him.\n\n\"Your life is worth so much more than this gold you offer, Arin. I can't accept it in good faith, as repayment. Besides, you aren't in the right state of mind to be making deals, just focus on resting right now.\" He pushed the mug of ale closer before the boy took a sip. Before the waiter left, Vik whispered something about putting everything on the tab he was opening. \"If you truly wish to repay the debt, you'll need all your strength, lad, let me take care of the payment.\"\n\nVik waddled over to another chair, and hoisted himself into the seat by the elbows. After he adjusted, and crossed his legs at the ankles, Tiddlywinks leapt into his lap, and he began to scratch the cat behind the ears.\n\n\"Tell me, Arin, why were you thrown out into the garbage?\" He spoke softly, accompanied by the purr his companion was emitting."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nPrince Mikhail Durkhan-Maith\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper ```\n\nMikhail had spent the evening with the Staffords, at least part of it. Angelica was insistent that he needed to stay with her, and seeing as how he wasn't really keen on exploring the _Pleasure Barge_, he wasn't bothered by the alternate route taken to the Maith Gardens. Arriving there sparked memories of his time here, before he was an Astorian Prince. Before he was a Feyshorian Prince. Back when he could barely speak and his time was spent with the piles of books brought up from the library. \n\nIt felt like it had been a lifetime ago. Duties at home weren't harsh, but his mother's style of ruling wasn't the same as Maith's. Days could pass and he'd not see any work being done, only to blink and have it revealed to him she'd been working on something in private that was to be unveiled the next morning. She didn't let him in one the process, which, he felt was to keep his childhood in tact a little while longer. \n\nHe, personally, felt it served as an injustice to keep him from all the practice he could get on the position before he was asked to take it and couldn't ask for her help. It wasn't something he liked to think about, and every time it was brought up she gave a little more leeway, but the expression of guilt always came with it. He had a feeling she felt she was turning into an awful mother as he grew older. He didn't really know what to say to that, to be honest. \n\nArriving at the gardens, he split from the Staffords, his own Eclipse tailing him as he made his way through the gardens that had helped keep him from going stir crazy while he healed. The blooms were the same, hyper-saturated with the light of the setting sun. Animals were new though. The feast was started with a first course being passed about, and he wondered why he'd yet to see his mother arrive. She'd been on the barge, and he could see it illuminate from the harbor, so either she'd gotten off or was still lingering. Why... He _really_ didn't want to think about. \n\nNo sooner had the thought passed his mind did he turn, finding himself offered a clay bowl by a homely servant who was smiling very brightly as she dipped low enough for him to see she wasn't quite to uniform. He kept his eye on the bowl, nodding his thanks as her thick accent murmured his title before she dashed off. Was this what adulthood was like for a Prince? He wished there were more familiar faces like at the Council.\n\n```Queen Anyanka Durkhan\nMaith's Feast, Tonate Proper```\n\nA familiar face did arrive, however; auburn hair nestled beneath a silver tiara, it's gems sparkling like the water in the harbor where it misted. She'd stopped at their own ship long enough to change into something a little more... Herself. Jax had accompanied her, though didn't seem anything close to excited about returning to the ball instead of heading back for home. She could understand that, but she had a duty to make an appearance. Maith and the Southern Federation were her allies, She'd not seen much of the man since the Council, and it was well past time for them to speak on upcoming events. \n\nNamely, his hopes of bringing Mikhail into Terresol with him. \n\nHer dress was warmer than she'd have liked, thick pressed velvet in a dark black clinging to her frame from her bust to waist, loosening at her hips and swaying with every step as the skirt trailed behind her. A crown of silver graced the neckline, gems placed to match the tiara she'd chosen for the occasion. Usually, she'd have opted for something to cover her arms - between the scar from the Shifter's bite and the sigils that lined her arms, she wasn't keen on having them out anymore. Weaknesses on display, she'd thought. But tonight they didn't feel like a weakness. They felt like battle scars, proof she was willing to fight. And Win. \n\nSomething she felt Maith would appreciate to see in an ally. \n\nHer Eclipse flanked her, two on her left and two on her right, all wearing their full armor of silver, grey, and black. Jax's golden moth emblem caught the glow of the setting sun, and when she glanced his way briefly she could see her hair gave off the same glow. Ethereal, and a small smirk graced her lips. She'd started to think age was pulling her beauty from her, but tonight, amongst the backdrop of the Southern gardens, she could understand why some mistook her for a reincarnation of Auryn.\n\nMusic struck up, loud and joyous over the gardens, waters, and patrons. Anyanka moved with ease through those in attendance, heading past the dancefloor and soup tables, straight for the seat of power and patron of all of this. In her hands she held a small thin wooden box, no bigger nor thicker than a playing card in all it's dimensions. \n\n\"King Maith.\" She started, a smile on her face as she gathered her skirt with one hand, stepping up from the grass towards the table he occupied. \"Thank you for the invitation,\" As she spoke, her hand stretched out, offering the box that sat in the palm of her hand to him. It rested in the center, and the distance between herself and the King meant he'd have to move forward to grab it. It gave her enough time to deepen her smile, the sigils on her arms illuminating a soft, icy blue. \n\nAs the magic traced it's way down one, the scars glowing before bleeding down into the next as her veins pulled the magic down towards her palm. The box that sat within it caught with a fire, the same cool shade as the carvings on her skin that were needed to control it, and the box melted away to ash as the fire took to it's meal. \n\nReleasing her skirts to the wind, the ash blew with them, and in her palm - dusted with ash- sat a small silver ship. A cast of the 4 that were being build in Astoria as they spoke.\n\n\"Careful, My King. It's warm.\""
},
{
"author": "iceager",
"message": "**Lord Alex Coldwater**\n**Sea near Southern Isles**\n\nThe boat rocked and swayed under the wind as it neared the islands. Alex stepped onto the deck of the ship as a knight quickly pressed a salute, quite same as the other knights that saw him. He was quite late to reach the balls, but the late arrival was unavoidable, with rebel activity rising in the peninsula again, his attention was rightfully divided. \n\nThe wolves did not like going on ships, so when the ships docked into the shrouds, they were the first to leap out. \n\nIn all Alex had come with, what seemed like a larger force than needed but his mother had insisted that he go with a good amount of bodyguards for himself. The group in all was of about sixty knights with horses, twelve dire-wolves and servants to maintain the horses, cook food and serve himself.\n\n**Lord Alex Coldwater**\n**Maith's Feast, Tonate Proper**\n\nAlex didn't have the time to rest, he had enough sleep on the ship and he was used to situations like this, it's not the first time he has had to rush into a feast because he was dealing with something else. \n\nHis dress was picked out by one of his servants. It was a rather dark red tunic, reaching down to his knees with works of gold on it, brown leather pants with matching boots and a black cape, also with gold ornamenting it. All in all, he felt quite fashionable wearing it. To adore the clothes, he carried his sword the famous Starblade along side him, shoved in it's scabbard. \n\nAs Alex walked in, surrounded by six knights flying the red phoenix which looked like it had caught fire in the setting sun, he slightly loosened the front of his tight tunic, it was quite hot down here on the islands, hotter than he was used to. \n\nThe music was loud and joyous, spreading over the gardens. As Alex motioned the knights to go out and enjoy the city, he bee lined towards the King's table but as he reached there, he saw the King was occupied with a beautiful woman, who it was he couldn't recognise but he could swear she looked familiar. \"My king\" Alex spoke out with a light bow. \"It is quite an honour to be here, in your ball today.\" \n\nAs he said all this, he looked slightly at the lady, his mind snapped back into place... This was Queen Anyanka Durkhan. Realising he quickly moved to offer a slight bow towards the Queen but disastrously fumbled doing that. How could a warrior so skilled in battle fumble doing a courtesy before a beautiful Queen?....He did not know. The only words that escaped his lips were \"My Queen.\""
},
{
"author": "shadowbob34",
"message": "Lord Eric Stafford\nThe Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nAs Mikhail wandered off into the feast, Eric took his wife's arm and guided her to their assigned spots. They had spent quite a bit of the trip in constant company, he was somewhat looking forward to sitting down with his wife and having a nice dinner. He found their spot and made sure Angelica was seated before taking a seat himself, right next to his wife. \n\n_I hope he'll like the gifts._ Eric stressed, not letting it show. The idea of gift giving for visiting wasn't entirely alien, but he'd never had to figure out such elaborate gifts. Eric had always just given a bottle of wine, or a few depending on the occasion. \n\n\"The soup looks good,\" Eric commented to his wife, looking to her to gauge her reaction. He placed their gifts on the table, well within his sight. \"And you look lovely.\" Eric said, placing his hand around her waist, pulling her toward him a bit."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nLady Angelica Stafford\nThe Feast, Tonate Proper\n```\nEric took her arm, making her pull her gaze away from the prince to her husband. He was already guiding her away, and by the time she looked back Mikhail had disappeared into the crowd. Great. If that kid died again it was on her head, and she didn't really think Anyanka would take kindly to 'I stepped away for Baby Ray soup' as a good answer. Still, he had his guards, she'd just need to check in again. Her gaze moved to one of her guards, and the stern look she gave before nodding in the Prince's direction was enough to send the South Feyshorian man off in search of the heir. \n\nThey were seated as the feast started, far enough away form the main tables to not be bothered with constant pleasantries, but she could see Maith from her spot. They'd go up eventually and say hello. For now, she took the seat she was offered and smiled to Eric when he commented on her looking lovely. \n\n\"You're biased, my dear.\" She reminded him, though she leaned into the way he wrapped his hand around her waist. \"One more night, and we can go home, don't you miss home?\" She questioned. As someone who had spent too much time in the humidity, she was itching to get back to a stable - less salty climate."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nThe soft expression left Bastien's face as soon as Lutur began to speak, replaced with cold indifference. He had initially thought, for a moment, that Lutur might have matured since last they had met. And yet as soon as he opened his stout mouth, egotistical drivel began to pour forth. *'He is the same tantrum-throwing little boy I remember.'* His eyes flicked the man's smaller stature up and down. *'Hasn't grown up in any sense, it seems.'*\n\nThough his expression did not change, Bastien's amethyst eyes glittered like shards of ice as Lutur's words became increasingly abhorrent. Talking about the apparent pleasantries and luxuries that occurred after his own father's death. To see Calypso subjected to such inane drivel was hard to stand by and watch. Luckily, she made her own dry remark that went unbeknownst to Lutur and, for a moment, the corner of Bastien's mouth turned upwards ever so slightly. His neutral expression returned as Calypso turned to ask Samsom about their service together.\n\nAt the mention of the incident with the Korkovian women, a small amused huff escaped Bastien's lips and he gazed up at the sky, gently shaking his head at the irking memory. He had not taken part, gods no, but it was certainly a scene to remember. He had been glad they departed from Korkou as soon as they did. It didn't feel soon enough. At the mention of Carney Vortigern, the man, with his determined rage and tactical precision, came into Bastien's mind. And to think, soon Bastien would be serving underneath another Vortigern. He glanced down at the simple clothes he was donned in. *'I must change before I make my entrance at the ball,'* He thought. *'And perhaps down a few drinks as well. It's going to be a long night.'*\n** **\n\nBastien opened his mouth to reply to Samson's pleasantry, but was cut off as Lutur jerked from his sister's grasp and promptly interjected into the conversation. The heat of the isles did not warm the frigid gleam in Bastien's eyes as he gazed down at Lutur. He was not in a place to say anything regarding the late Lord Dumagne, but now his own father was brought into the mix. And Lutur still had the audacity to act superior. A foolish decision\n\n\"I'm quite happy with the prospect of my father living for many more years to come,\" He replied coolly as he stared down at Lutur. His voice was crisp, formal, but not confrontational. \"A man's true worth is not only weighed by his birth-given titles. Acts of bravery and selflessness for one's people are far more impressive accolades, are they not?\" His tone was casual but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. \"A strong character makes for a strong leader. Anyone may be born into a high position of power. It is, however, a special breed that actually earns their position in the eyes of others.\" He gave Lutur a small sharp nod, one of his lips turning upwards slightly as he said, \"But I'm sure a man of your caliber knew of such things.\"\n\nHe did not mention how low Lutur's caliber was.\n\n\"But I digress,\" He continued as he turned back to the group. The start of the ball was imminent, and he needed to get ready. He locked eyes with Calypso for a moment, then thought *'To the hells with it,'* And offered her his arm. It was more rigid and formal than before, but the gesture was clear as he turned in the direction of the mansion. \"I'm afraid we must continue to head back to the mansion if we are to be punctual for the ball.\" His eyes scanned over Lutur before they flicked back and forth from Peraz to Samson. \"I'm sure we'll be able to talk to one another more during the festivities.\""
}
] | 427 | 3,497 |
196 | 2021-07-09 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "shadowbob34",
"message": "Lord Eric Stafford\nThe Feast\n\n\"Only a little biased.\" Eric replied, \"And of course I miss home. I miss Marcus, our people, and Stormalong. But we're here because we need to be, so might as well enjoy being. Sure beats the hell out of castle Grunewald and King Gregor's hospitality.\" Eric remarked. \"I also am not looking forward to the voyage home. \"\n\nHe also wasn't looking forward to his voyage to Terresol, though he dearly hoped it would be a march. He'd much prefer marching in, but, King Maith likely wanted them to arrive as one force, and that one force was most likely going to be by sea. \n\n\"You think he'll like our gifts? I've never met the man.\" Eric asked."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nLady Angelica Stafford\nThe Feast, Tonate Proper```\n\nHe wasn't wrong, still, it felt strange. Most of the time on trips like these she was at Anya's side. They all were, Stormalong and Astoria were firmly two nations under Durkhan. This time, She and Eric had practically been left to their own devices, with Anyanka's attention being distracted by her Eclipse Captain. She pursed her lips, reaching for her glass and taking a long drag from it. At least the Maith household didn't skimp on the alcohol at the feast. \n\nHer attention had drifted, looking to Maith's table before scanning the crowd again for... Well, she didn't know. It felt weird _not_ to be working. There was no task assigned to her besides 'be back in Astoria by next week.' A whole week without duty had her on edge. Eric's words made her brow raise, and the blonde turned to look at him in confusion. \n\n\"You've never met?\" She asked, not believing that to be true. Surely.. At some point... Right? She cleared her throat, leaning a bit more into his shoulder and lifting his drink in offering. A stressed Eric made her stressed, and she was already nervous. \"He appreciates the gesture of good will. Maith is a good man, if I didn't serve Anya, I'd serve him.\""
},
{
"author": "shadowbob34",
"message": "Lord Eric Stafford\nThe Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nEric was surprised Angelica didn't know he'd never met King Maith. Typically, Eric wasn't the person people came to talk to that and Eric made himself scarce, the richer people he met, the more he realized how awful most of them are. After his first Council of Marin, Eric started avoiding most of the foreign nobility. \n\n\"No, he and I have never met. I've seen him a number of times. I've been to a few Councils of Marin and the last time we were in the Southern Isles, but he's never asked to see me and I'd rather not disturb a king with small talk. My track record with meeting kings hasn't been great, with Storm, Kelwynd, and Grunewald. I kind of avoid kings by this point.\" He mentioned, remembering the amount of important people he's met. It was still surreal to him."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper \n\nValkrin had excused himself from Catarina's side, and was finishing up making his rounds when he stepped into the gardens. His eye was immediately caught by the Eclipse guards and the young man with them, who'd just finished speaking with a servant. \n\n\"I can arrange for her to meet you later, if that's your fancy,\" He said as he approached, \"Shit, could arrange for her to meet you now. Wouldn't be anything new for the Isles.\" \n\nHe looked over the boy, the glass eye rolling in it's socket, then took a seat on a bench and lit a cigar. \"You're Prince Mikhail, I'm pleased to meet you, lad. Been working with your father for a long time.\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```Prince Mikhail Durkhan-Maith\nMaith Gardens, Tonate Proper```\n\nSomeone approached, making a comment about arrangements for someone to meet him. He assumed they were referring to the servant who, even when he glanced back her way, was still looking over at him. He didn't quite know what to think of that. Mikhail returned his attention to the man as he offered for her to meet him _now_, and his brow furrowed a bit. \n\n\"I can't say I'm interested, she's not exactly my type.\" He answered. There was nothing wrong with her, he just didn't want to see that offer executed. He'd be embarrassed for sure. \n\nMikhail heard the shifting of the Eclipse's armor as they waited, and he gave no indication that the man was bothering him, so they stayed quiet for now. Perched with a cigar, the amber of the man's eye glinted. Mikhail couldn't help the small grin as he pressed his tongue to his bottom teeth. \"Which one, Maith?\" As if the scars branding the man's face weren't obvious enough."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nTonate Proper \n\n\"A Royal with a sense of humor, refreshing.\" After a long drag of the cigar in his hand, Valkrin smiled and turned to face the boy again. \"Apologies, lad. I'm not used to meeting bastards that aren't mine. I'm sure Astoria is crawling with them, could even be some in your Eclipse.\" \n\nValkrin turned his attention back to the servant girl who, upon meeting his gaze, took on a frightened expression and returned to her duties. He stood, and began to size up one of the Eclipse in front of him, finding the man to be his equal in stature. \"How much for his armor? I'd like it for my collection.\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nPrince Mikhail Durkhan-Maith\nMaith Gardens, Tonate Proper```\n\nHe tensed at the word 'bastard'. While technically correct, he didn't much care for the term. It was dismissive of the men who had been around to raise him, and one that had only been coined to him after his life was appointed a bounty. Still he raised a brow. \"Is that something you're proud of...?\" He asked, trailing off because he was well aware the man never offered a proper introduction. \n\nInstead of offering his name, he asked for a price on the Eclipse armour his guard was wearing, and Mikhail gave a small laugh. \"A lifetime of service to the Durkhan household, we've yet to have an Eclipse prove to be a deserter, but I doubt Captain Brightwater buries them with the emblem.\""
}
] | 176 | 1,372 |
477.666667 | 2021-07-10 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\nArin cracked his eyes open as far as he could, and looked at the small man in front of him. \n\n\"Trust me. My life is only worth as much as in that sack. Maybe less.\" He said, before cracking a small smile. That smile turned into a laugh, which turned into painful groans as his bruised ribs ached. \n\n\"I'm here because of a tournament. The man I was riding against was a knight, no... A Captain of knights... Name was Brightwater. Jack... No Jax.. Brightwater.\" He said, before catching his breath again. \n\n\"I lost the fight. No matter how strong my swing was, or how fast, he saw where my blade was going to strike. It was over before I even knew what had happened.\" He said, before looking up at Vik. \n\n\"I was beaten for losing. Funny part is, my own father did this. Or, I think he is my father. I can't fucking remember... Anything.\" He said, before a tear rolled down his cheek. \n\n\"His guards dragged me, even though they were told to go to a doctor they tossed me in that garbage thinking I was dead, or dying soon. And I wished I had. I don't know my family, and now I have lost the small shred of respect I had earned. That money is all my life has right now, and even that isn't worth much.\" He said, before taking a small sip of the ale and wiping his eyes. \n\n\"Sorry. I am not used to showing emotion, but I just can't stop.\" He said, forcing his tears to stop flowing down his cheeks."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nMaith's Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nIf anyone knew how to hold a feast that would capture the attention of many Kingdoms in a positive way, it would be King Bradai. It wasn't without doubt to Cecilia, though the shifter would never admit it seeing how she disliked him greatly. The atmosphere radiated a joyous and cheerful environment as a few guests began making their way towards the dancefloor or one of the many other forms of entertainment spread across the open spaces, whilst others began making their way towards the cauldrons with their clay bowls in hand. It was noticeable that the majority preferred to feast before they mingled with one another, taking that chance to drink as much as they could while they ate. \n\nAt first, Cecilia was uncertain on whether or not to attend the festivities seeing how any other time she attended, she had an ulterior motive that involved the death of a guest. Fortunately, her decision was shortly made when she overheard one of Maith's staff chattering in an excited manner to another about the extravagance of the ball Bradai had planned. From then, her mind had instantly made its decision. It didn't take much to convince the Shifter as she struggled to ever think about her consequences, however Ceci made a promise to herself to remain on her best behaviour to avoid creating conflict. She wasn't in a position where she could do so, seeing how she was being hunted almost everywhere in Marin besides the far north and even though she hated it, the Isles may be her last refuge. \n\nThough Cecilia was known to be unaware of possible outcomes as a result of her behaviour and actions, she did manage to put some thought into what she planned. For example, the shifter knew there would be a large enough crowd and significant amount of distractions to give her a chance to blend, especially if the Duchess was to make an appearance. Once she had set her sight on the festival, Cecilia immediately began readying herself.\n\nBack to the present, Cecilia was now seated at one of the tables with an empty clay bowl seated in front of her, observing her surroundings as everyone interacted with one another as they ate or danced. She was unfearful towards the thought of being recognised by the mainlanders that had attended the council or anyone who followed under the Duchess, seeing how most of them would think the result of her punishment was unjust and instead deserved death. Fortunately for the shifter, it would be difficult for someone to recognise her unless they were to properly look at her features rather than scanning their eyes over a crowd. No longer was her body covered in a thick crusting coat of blood that had dried during her time in the dungeon or the usual mud and dirt her body would usually be painted in, instead, Cecilia wore a simple yet elegant dress that complemented her waist made of fern green linen, a material that allowed the sea breeze to cool her skin whilst protecting her from the heat of the isles.\n\nAcross her chest, a pattern made of yellow thread took the appearance of multiple thin vines protruding from a flower designed in the middle of her chest. Sprouting from the flower itself were many smaller flowers until the vines ended by her shoulders. Along the sleeves, two walnut ribbons half a quarter inch in thickness braided the material from her underarms until they reached her wrist, similar to the entwined ribbons that lined her spine and laced the back of the dress together. As for the knotted mess on her head, the woman Cecilia had frightened into styling her hair managed to do a decent job with the thick brunette locks hanging loosely around her shoulders in tidy curls whilst the top half twisted into a braided bun. To prevent her scarred neck from giving the shifter away, Cecilia wore four lines of leather entwined together to make a choker-like necklace which successfully hid the unsightly appearance. \n\nThe thought of making her way to the dance floor had crossed her mind as she watched everyone dancing with lighthearted and intoxicating laughter that spread across the room, enjoying the rare moment where she got to take a step back and actually enjoy the event happening around her. The shifter had no idea where to begin as she never was one to socialise with others without taunting them in some way or making their time with her traumatising."
},
{
"author": "iceager",
"message": "**Alex Coldwater**\n**Maith's Feast, Tonate Proper**\n\nAlex was quite embarrassed from the situation with the King and Queen, he quickly bowed another time and backtracked out of there, he rarely knew how to socialise at these events but learning that was a crucial part of being at a such a feast and to rise the social ladders of Marin. \n\nAlex was slowly starting to panic now. He had no idea what to do, his throat clamped down as he started to panic even further, the music was becoming more mumbled to his ears and people had started giving him side eyes. He just needed a place to sit down without much attention given to him. \n\nLuckily, he saw a almost empty table with just one lady sitting in it, he quickly approached the lady and spoke out in the most unwavering voice he could muster at the moment \"Forgive me m'lady, but is this seat taken?\""
}
] | 351 | 1,433 |
317.666667 | 2021-07-11 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nMaith's Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nHer attention was torn from one of the entertainers when a well mannered man with a deep voice approached the shifter, requesting a seat at her table. Her first instinct was to dismiss him or come up with a snide retort but instead forced herself into a friendly facade, beginning with a tight smile that began to ache the muscles in her cheeks. \n\n\"It isn't. You may sit if you wish.\" As she gazed over the man's appearance, she took note of the fine garments he wore that gave her an idea on what type of class he belonged to whilst his pale form hinted towards him being a Northern Mainlander. When she reached his face, he began to pique her interest as the grin began to feel less forced from her amusement. The embarrassment he recently experienced wasn't well hidden in his features.\n\nShe quickly returned her sights onto the entertainer that had gained her interest with the danger of his act prior and watched momentarily as he fitted the third sword down his throat before shifting . Once he had finished placing a fourth sword, Cecilia turned her body slightly while shifting in her seat and brought her focus back to the gentleman who had joined her. \n\n\"I'm Bella.\" Currently, her name was too well known at the time for her sociopathic and murderous acts, so as a backup, she decided to stick with the shortened version of Arabella, which happened to be part of her birth name. \"What happened with you?\""
},
{
"author": "iceager",
"message": "**Alex Coldwater**\n**Maith's Feast, Tonate Proper**\n\nAlex quickly took the seat, his breathing was beginning to calm down and the lady seated in front of him was not paying attention to him, everything was going great. The cold sweat forming on his brow had subsided as he let the slow warm winds to cool him down a bit, he asked a servant to get him a glass of water. \n\nAs he was enjoying his relative solitude the lady turned her attention on him again, \"My name is *Bella*\" She said to which Alex replied with a short response, trying to put his best foot forward, \"Nice to meet you m'lady, My name is Alex\". \n\n\"I'm not really used to these *Events*\" He said, the last word barely spitting out of his mouth, yet still he felt a bit relaxed around her, she didn't seem to judge him and he felt relatively safe from judgemental eyes now and safe around her, he didn't quite understand why. \n\nHer dress was beautiful, complimenting her features perfectly yet not revealing too much to the naked eyes, her hair seemed to be done beautifully and all this suggested that she must be from a well off background. Alex decided to speak a little more, \"I'm more used to a sword in hand than socialise with the elites, m'lady.\" His voice was slowly returning to normal as his aura of natural confidence he portrayed."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Ball, the Maith Mansion\n\nWhen the Duchess of Astoria waltzed through the crowd, they were instantly captivated. The Pirate King watched as the lights of the torches and brazers played at her figure and at her face, in her hair and then, by magic, dripping off of her, running down her arms in rivulets. They pooled in her scars like liquid flame. But amazement turned to fear when the box began to blaze, sending a sudden gush of heat and light at the observers. Some recoiled and covered their eyes but most flinched, recognized the chicanery, and began to applaud wildly. \n\nBradai brought the spoon to his lips, sucking a baby ray into his mouth and chewing on the buttery meat. When he was finished, he swallowed and began to clap along with the crowd, sending them all to silence. \n\n\"Anya.\" The King leaned over the table to pluck the silver ship from her palm and fell back into his seat with his right elbow on the armchair. His tone was mild.\n\n\"I 'ad 'eard vhat you were to leave my beautiful city. Get on your dark ships and sail my 'arbor wiffout so much as a goodbye.\" He brought the present close to his face, as if he was inspecting it's seaworthiness. \"Don't tell me vhat Eric and Jax took it 'ard. We will all need vhem in tha battles to come.\" He ran a finger along the rigging of the mainsail as the next course was brought before them. Wide plates of roasted mango, peach, apricot and sweet plum, the peels soft and the flesh all but caramelized by the heat. Plates of exotic cheeses followed in suit, from the far off reaches of Corvus and Doltun. They smelt fiercely strong, but their taste was nutty and left a hint of fermented blackberry on the tongue. Five more casks of wine were rolled out and cups were refilled to the brim. \n\n\"A beautiful fhree masted ship.\" He set the ship down with a loud thump and clapped his hands together. \"Am I correct to assume vhat vhis is tha ships we discussed? Tha four uff 'em?\" He reached under the chair and moved the empty bowl aside to make room for his ledger. He scrawled something down in it and crossed something off on the page beside.\n\n\"Ollie.\" Bradai barked, \"Send to the Ruby Row for a new set of metalworking tools to give our graceful and lovely Duchess of Astoria, for whoever commissioned vhis lovely ship. And 'er gifts as well.\" \n\nThe Scribe appeared from behind the high table, a bolt of beautiful crimson silk across his arms. On top of the folded fabric was a spice chest filled with whole saffron, cloves, and coriander. For Mikhail there was a curved steel knife, the hilt inlaid with turquoise and fashioned into a poppy flower.\n\n\"Do be sure vhat your court gets in line be'ind you, your Grace.\" The Pirate King gave a smile, popping a slice of roasted peach into his mouth. The juice ran down his fingers and into his beard, and he wiped it clean with his napkin. \"I want to see my ward.\" \n\nWith that, he waved on, signaling the next to pay their respects."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nMaith's Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nWith great difficulty, Cecilia refrained from laughing at his mentioning of elites as she was far from that title. She could barely place any blame on him however due to the way she dressed for the event and whilst it was humorous, the shifter also felt complimented. She had put a fair amount of effort into her appearance with the help of others. \n\n\"I'm not very great at making conversation myself so that makes the two of us.\" Cecilia lowered her forearm against the arm of the chair before she began tapping lightly against the wooden frame with her slender fingers.\n\n\"Come on, there is more to it than that.\" She began while deeply inhaling, taking note of the nervous sweat that continued to linger in his pores. However, he didn't have the racing heart an anxious person would be carrying. \n\n\"What happened? Did you forget a gift for the King? Did you see a woman you fucked in the past who now carries obsessive feelings towards you? I know that's happened way too many times before to someone I know, so you're not alone there.\" Cecilia paused as she eyed him over a couple times in thought before widening them in excitement. \"Did you kill someone and steal their clothes?\" \n\nShe had done that plenty of times herself but was delighted at the thought that someone else would do the same."
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**King Dennon Bigsby\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion**\n\nDennon sighed while as Queen Anyanka presented her gift. He did not have a light show to accompany his. It just made his seem more plain by comparison. Once the woman ahead of him was finished, Dennon approached.\n\n\"Good evening, your grace.\" Dennon said to Bradai, picking up a more formal address for the benefit for those nearby watching the gift presentation. \"From Queen Lucrezia and I, this is a sword from one of our finest Ibbish smiths. The design incorporates the golden vines of the House Scheer sigil wrapping around the hilt. May it serve you well should the need arise.\""
},
{
"author": "iceager",
"message": "**Alex Coldwater**\n**Maith's Feast, Tonate Proper**\n\nArko laughed a bit at her suggestions of crimes, he finally felt a bit light and the nervousness subsided. \"It's nothing quite that extreme m'lady\" He replied \"I... I have a illness, m'lady. The healers call it battle fatigue. I'm not quite suited to be in-\", He stopped short of the final sentence, why was he saying all this to her? No one outside his family and their trusted healers knew this. \n\nAlex quickly tried to remedy the situation, this was no conversation to be had with a lovely lady on such a beautiful evening. He quickly stood up and offered a hand to her, \"Would you care for a dance, m'lady?\""
}
] | 289 | 1,906 |
399.666667 | 2021-07-13 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik felt a pang of sadness well up inside him at the lad's story, although there was slight relief that it wasn't Jax that put him there. As Arin spoke he ordered a pot of warm water to be brought to the table. He brought out his own porcelain cups, and set one in front of each of them, despite Arin's ale that he was drinking from. Vik brought out his strainer and when the water arrived, he began straining his favorite tea into both cups, nodding at Arin's words.\n\n\"Why are these men's lives worth more than yours? How can you tell?\" He began it like a question, but only waited a moment before continuing, signifying them as rhetorical questions. \"I could sit here and debate with you for hours on what gives a life value based on more than just gold and jewels, but you seem like a smart lad, so we'd just end up going around in circles.\"\n\nVik sat in silence for two minutes, counting in his head. It may have seemed like a moment for Arin to reflect, given by the Tiny God, but in reality he just wanted to make sure he made his tea right. As soon as his internal timer rang, he strained the tea into each of the cups, and pushed a saucer towards Arin.\n\n\"Of course, I could show you, if you'd like.\" He ended his sentence with a giggle, but it wasn't a joke. \"Do you know who I am, Arin?\"\n\nIf he tilted his head to the side, inquisitively, this being a question he did want answered.\n\nCaptain Jax Brightwater and the Astorian Party\nThe Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nJax was biting his cheek throughout the procession, his usual sass wanting to break out at the King's remarks to Astoria as an \"Ally.\" Yet he held his tongue, and saluted with the rest of his men as they moved away.\n\n\"He elects to forget that I willingly left the tournament, asking if I'm upset.\" He whispered to his charge, and she smirked in return. \"All things considered, that went well.\"\n\n\"I suppose it did, but...\" Anya began.\n\n\"The slurping?\" Jax finished\n\n\"Yes, what was with that you saw it too?\"\n\n\"Yeah like,at least wait to finish chewing before-\"\n\n\"Exactly, gods I thought I was the only one who-\"\n\n\"Trust me, My Queen, I saw it too.\" The two shared a smile amidst the ball. \"We should join the Prince.\"\n\n\"Lead the way, Captain.\"\n\nValentine broke away from the group ahead of time to locate the Prince Mikhail, in a sense returning to her duties. This made it rather easy for the rest of the party to reunite with the Young Royal. As they all approached, he spoke up with a beam.\n\n\"Ah, mother, and Captain Jax, perfect timing. It seems this gentleman has questions about the Eclipse.\" To which Jax couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.\n\n\"Well let's not keep him waiting on any answers.\" The captain chirped, resting his thumb into his sword belt."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\n\"I was a great fighter once. Did you know that? Never lost a fight, always one step ahead of my opponent. It was almost as if I could watch an attack as it began and know how to react.\" He said, taking a sip of his ale as he watched Vik. Arin fell silent as the warm ale coursed it's way through his body, wishing the day would just end. He turned the cup in his hand, sloshing the dark liquid inside. He studied his murky reflection, grimacing as he saw his own pitiful face. He looked back up in fury, his fiery demeanor returning to his body. \n\nHe calmed himself as he realized how futile his efforts would be. He was in no position to move, much less fight. He had several broken bones, bruised ribs, and cuts along his jaw and below his eye. In his current state, he was at his weakest. Arin looked over at Vik as he spoke, before growing silent himself. As Vik's words came to a close, Arin studied him. \n\n\"Two minutes. You let your tea sit for two minutes. I've never met anyone that waits that long.\" He said, accepting the small saucer that Vik slid his way. As Vik asked his question, Arin's ears perked up and he swallowed. \n\n\"I do not.\" He said, sitting the small cup down. The tea was amazing, strong, yet not bitter. Arin wanted to swallow all of it at once, but forced himself to sip slowly."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik couldn't help but giggle at the remark.\n\n\"You *Have* To let it steep that long, this is a special tea, Arin.\" He took a small sip and hummed gleefully as it coated his tongue. He couldn't help but kick his feet in delight as he swallowed. It was his favorite blend, a honeyed orange flavor with a savory aftertaste that beckoned you to take another sip. It was his own special tea he grew back in Akno. After swallowing his sip he continued. \"Actually you're supposed to let *Most* Teas steep for about two or three minutes, otherwise they come out bitter or...\"\n\nHe paused as he searched for the word.\n\n\"Incomplete.\" He said with a snap, before taking another sip.\n\n\"You can call me Vik, Arin. I'm not like other people. I wasn't born into this world wondering what my purpose was, I didn't have to spend my life wondering what I wanted to do. I know why I'm here, and I'm here to help people. Lots of people I help are just like you, down on their luck, hoping to regain something they've lost, or looking for something they need.\" The tiny man sipped again, setting his cup on his saucer and picking up the teapot again.\n\n\"Right now I'd like to help you, if you're open to it.\" He offered to refill Arin's cup. \"I'd like to help you, and right now it seems you need help with these men who threw you away like trash.\"\n\nHe giggled, again."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\n\"Vik. What a peculiar name.\" He said, sounding it out for a moment. It had a nice ring to it. \"I never knew that actually. I've never been much for tea. Rum, ale, or liquor of any kind flows freely on the ships I'm used to, and no one ever had the time for tea.\" He said, accepting another cup of it. The warm tea spread throughout his body, soaking his entire being in its soft embrace. \n\n\"It's good, though I wouldn't think of it normally. I'd just get drunk, get a room, and go back on a ship before daybreak. I wouldn't stop to make tea.\" He said, placing the small cup back onto its little plate before glancing at Vik. \n\n\"You say you enjoy helping people. Or that your purpose is to help people. I'm not saying no, I'm just asking why. It seems a waste, because most people don't appreciate help these days. Most want to profit off of you, not help you better yourself. Why are you any different?\" He asked, taking another sip. \n\n\"I'm not saying no, and I did not mean to be disrespectful. I am grateful for the help you've already given me, I just don't understand. You don't know me, yet you've devoted time to help, time you could have spent in bed with some whore, or anything else. Why choose to help a kid in a dumpster?\" He asked, placing the cup back down."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Ball, the Maith Mansion\n\nThere were the makings of a great lord in Kirk Pinewood. The King was pleased.\n\n\"I should've known better then to invite tha Royal Antique Collector to my feast.\" Bradai Maith clapped and his court began to hoot, whistle and shout vile strings of slurs in approval. \"_VHIS_ is a gift, aye!\" \n\nWhen Ollie hoisted it up, Bradai took it in his hand eagerly, turning the back of the frame to his audience. He paused when he looked at the craftsmanship. At first, he had doubted the veracity of it's origin, but when he inspected the signature he saw that it was, truly, written in Silvertongue. That had made him angry.\n\n\"We will take back what is ours.\" The Pirate King announced, which all but sent his sister into a frenzy. Fingers dripping with garlic and octopus sauce, she gripped at her ornate dagger and thrust it into the air. \n\nThe trestle table farthest from the royal audience, the only occupied by the crew of Wickedness, returned the war cry. Bradai felt a hand press on his forearm, and he turned to see the Seneschal, his face poking out from behind the back of Caderyn Vortigern. His expression was pleased and he was needlessly crouching. Bradai used the painting to cover their exchange.\n\n\"When exactly should we stop feeding your sister wine? When she begins cutting off ears?\" \n\n\" 'ave vhem stop filling 'er cup and she'll just start taking vhem. Water it down and add vinegar if she notices its gone soft. I don't need 'er voiding 'erself on my table, Silas.\" \n\nThe Seneschal departed with a nod, taking the servant closest by the arm to whisper something into his ear. When he departed, he came back with entire ahi tuna on spits. The fish was cut before the audience and served on hot black stones with lemon. Mixed seaweed greens with olive oil sat beside, paired simply.\n\nWhen the Pirate King lowered the painting to return to Kirk, all he could do was give his thanks, invite him to the meeting with Dennon, and call forward the next."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nMaith Mansion\n\nValkrin ignored Brightwater altogether, choosing instead to address the Astorian Queen. \"Your Grace,\" He said with a rather sarcastic bow, \"I'm Valkrin Farensun, honored to meet you. You're even more beautiful than in the stories I've heard of you.\" \n\nA rather large guard approached the Captain and whispered something into his ear, handing him a large leather satchel. \"Ah, thank you. You'll have to excuse me, Queen Durkhan, I've a meeting with Maith.\" \n\nUpon reaching the front of the line, Valkrin set the satchel down on the table before the Pirate King. \"My gift,\" He began loudly, \"Is actually not for you, King Maith, but for Caderyn Vortigern.\" He opened the satchel and removed a human skull, lifting it into the air. \"This is the skull of Sun King Vronti Kelwynd. I've had it since I separated it from his shoulders, and now I'm giving it to you, carry it into Terresol for me.\""
}
] | 339.5 | 2,398 |
362 | 2021-07-16 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "spooksworth",
"message": "Arch Seneschal Reginald Cyroven/Self-Named Sea King, Lord David Brass \nHangman's Harbour, Tonate Proper\n\nThe Diplomat looked on at the bustling activity of the Southern Isles as their ship came closer and closer to docking alongside a quay that was worn and spattered from salt water. Reginald watched on like a hawk as the portsman retrieved the ropes and reeled in the gargantuan Northern war galley with some effort. Lord Nathaniel's *Winged Watcher* Made quite the impression as it landed beside some of the smaller Southern ships. Pretty as they were, with their fluttering sails of vibrant colours and ostentatious sigils and gilded ports and starboards, their presence was choked out by the massive vessel, with its darker colours that eclipsed the green-blue waters of the Southern Isles that caressed against the seawalls so majestically in the sunshine. The anchor was lowered as the *Winged Watcher* Came to a halt, sending tremors to every man aboard, yet still, Reginald stood there like a finely-dressed statue, completely indifferent in his expression. The plank lowered and sounded as if it were a hammer coming down onto an anvil with the fury of the Gods. Reginald Cyroven elegantly made his way down. He chucked two pieces of silver to the dock worker he assumed was in charge. \n\n\"Vhere are you comin' from?\" The man asked, biting the pieces of silver to verify their quality. \n\n\"Far away,\" Was all the Diplomat replied with."
},
{
"author": "timeless117",
"message": "David Brass had stood alone in his captain's quarters, putting the final touches to his attire for that evening. He quickly joined the rest of his crewmen outside his quarters after he heard the plank connect with the deck. The plank was dropped with a thundering thud, as the plank from the North had been introduced to this deck from the South for the first time. \n\nLord David Brass stood tall as he approached the end of the ship. The Brass Bastard turned his bearded face towards Reginald's. \"The night is here then,\" David's voice sounded slightly dry shouting down to him, an effect of helping guide this crew on the longest journey for them all."
},
{
"author": "spooksworth",
"message": "\"Almost,\" Cyroven replied as his acquaintance practically slid down the plank to join him. He always looked so sure and confident atop a prow. \"The Pirate King must be paid homage to. He demands gifts as tribute in order to be permitted entry into the ball, at least, the part of the ball we must be at. Have your men retrieve some of the..,\" He trailed off, looking back at the *Winged Watcher,* \"Plunder, you've reaped on expeditions and he should be satisfied. Our associates should be arriving soon.\" Reginald fetched a handkerchief from his tail coat and dabbed with his brow where tiny beads of perspiration were forming. Being this far South was sweltering for any Northman.\n\nAboard the ship on their voyage South, Reginald had spent an extensive amount of time with the self-proclaimed Sea King, and had gotten to learn more of him, yet still he remained an enigma to him. During their journey together, David had introduced him to a drinking game called *Spierdjurk,* Which meant 'Cheater' in the ancient language of Bleaktyde Isle. Traditionally, children would gather pebbles, rocks and seastones across the banks of the isle, as their souls were the purest, so their Goddess of the Seas, Dokva, would offer them what was necessary for the game. All the rocks would be dropped in a pile on the table, and the dealer would pick through all of them to decide what ones would be best for the game. Once that had been decided, all of them were turned to the side that concealed the most about their features and the players would have to pick ones they deemed to be the hidden gems Dokva had gifted them. For every one pebble, rock or seastone that was just that, they must drink their entire drink. But should their options appear to be crystallised on the other side, the quality of Dovka's gift must be tested. If it *Clinks* Against a surface, then it is truly Dovka's gift, and the player wins. But if it *Thuds* Like all the rest, then they have been cheated, and they must down what the dealer considers an 'ocean's worth'.\n\nBeing an esteemed, honourable dignitary of House Vivayn, Reginald never partook in the consumption of alcohol, not even in his leisure, so in truth the whole thing was a folly from the get go, but David had insisted, drinking both their share and becoming more wild-eyed as the game proceeded. Cyroven was quick to learn of the real from the fake, also being an expert jeweller by trade, with many fine and splendid rings donning his lithe digits. As he inspected them, he was able to reveal each cheat from the next, as he was a master of deduction and logistics, until eventually, a sorrowful Sea King *Clinked* Dokva's gift against the table. The Diplomat was not fooled by the superstitions and heresy of the Horn Hills. When David rose to leave, he said he'd killed all the men who had ever beaten him at *Spierdjurk* And then left. About five minutes later, Reginald heard that Brass had stabbed the crewman who retrieved the stones half a hundred times before throwing him overboard, citing the reason that his mistress was 'hungry'."
},
{
"author": "timeless117",
"message": "David tapped his chin in thought, at the very notion of gift giving, *This Pirate King wishes to be gifted prizes. For what, his own pride? If you wish for something you simply take it, unless he is a child. No, from everything Pale Face has told me about this King, he is too respected by his fellow Southerners to be still shitting in his shit holder*. His grey eyes scanned the deck as he saw Reginald already ahead of his steps. He let out a soft sigh as he finished his thoughts, *Weak men follow less weak men it seems in these parts*. He placed his scaly boot on the plank loudly, \"A gift,\" He called out as he overheard the words being spoken below. \"Whatever thing shall we hand away? We have much in the way of fish and silver,\" He chuckled then cleared his salty throat. \"Best not. I believe I might have the perfect gift for a fellow rider of Dokva.\" The Bastard's Bane whistled loudly, as two crewmen rushed at the sudden bursts of sound.\n\nThe well-crafted chest was opened and what it held was a surprise to those that looked up from the deck. It had been a hide, not just any hide, a Shell-Nosed Seal's hide unmarked and unspoiled. An animal that only had survived the harsh islands and seas of The Horn Hills, all due to its tough hide and its thick skull.\n\nThe Sea King gestured to the hide with a prideful smirk across his face. \"This is something the South can't have, but will in truth be thankful for. The hide of the Shell-Nosed Seal; it'll keep you warm through the coldest of storms and stop even steel arrows from sticking in your back as you lead your crew to whatever you choose to lead them to. I think any Pirate would be pleased by this, particularly the king of them.\" David watched on after he had finished his words, waved his hand downwards as the crewmen carefully closed the chest with the hide held inside, like a chicken protecting its egg."
},
{
"author": "spooksworth",
"message": "The Diplomat's almost perpetually neutral expression suddenly became lined in fascination as the Brass Bastard had his men bring down the selected gift. When opened, Reginald had never seen anything like it, in what looked like a coil of grey and black and brown, and the thickest, widest envelope of flesh he had ever seen, like an oily blanket that could stretch over the entirety of the oceans they'd crossed. The detail of it was so rich and fine, with every spot and transcendence of pigmentation sticking out so clearly, in a play of creams and shades. It was all Reginald could do not to reach into his forepocket and brandish his loupe to inspect it further. \"Very good choice, My Lord. A fine contribution.\" He was almost disappointed that such a hide was going to a Southern King who'd most likely only use it as a rug and wouldn't know its true value if it was used as a noose to hang him. \n\nWhen he saw the two Vivayn Knights appear from below deck , with the Snow Crow sigil encrusted on their breastplates, he snapped at one of the crewman with a ringed hand and gestured for them to retrieve the gift for the Pirate King afforded by his liege, Lord Nathaniel Vivayn. \"I assume you'll be able to busy yourself with tonight's activities. But do remember our orders, My Lord,\" He said, starting to walk alongside the Sea King as the entourage of knights fell on either side of them, and the servants carrying the chests of gifts at their heels, struggling on the hot humid day."
},
{
"author": "timeless117",
"message": "The self-named Sea King nodded at these words and made his steps more grand as he approached the entrance way. His dark brass attire would have appeared clear with the knights that surrounded him and the Diplomat, the sigil of House Brass placed in attires centre, itself made from a very rough fabric. The fabric itself would have been displayed tentacles shaped to look as such. Many would have to be watchful, if any dared touch the Sea King with this brass attire or a finger could disappear. There were small steel hooks hidden within some of the tentacle shaped fabric, to reflect what creature is in the centre of the sigil of House Brass: the spiked squid.\nDavid answered back to his fellow journeymen as he'd continued to walk with an air of regency, \"Clearly I do not forget. If not I would have done it another way by this point. This night will be an enjoyable one, truly. Now let us dispense our gift to the Pirate King and show House Brass, no, the North that I'll be just with my words. I will not be cast aside anymore. Safe sailing Arch Seneschal Reginald.\""
}
] | 330.5 | 2,172 |
491.2 | 2021-07-17 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik giggled at his first remark.\n\n\"To be fair, I'm a peculiar person.\" He said.\n\n\"Tea is my favorite. You can make it from almost every plant on Fagia. But it doesn't stop there, once brewed, a tea can be changed again. You can add honey, sugar, syrup, cream, or even milk to alter the taste and thickness of the tea.\" He paused, taking another sip from his brittle cup. \"If you're patient, and know how to treat the tea, it's always worth the wait.\"\n\nAnother sip, Vik wanted to let Arin finish his speculations before answering, but he also had to think about it. The last time he had an answer to this question, the world was young, and it seemed obvious that the strong helped the weak. However he was now in a time where people relied on Kings, Lords, and even Clerics to help them. These individuals had their power cemented over a history Vik slept through, so why did he want to help?\n\n\"I don't know if I have an answer you would accept, Arin. In some ways I feel responsible for every mortal born under the sky, in other ways helping people reach their potential comes naturally to me like breathing does for you.\" He stopped to peer down at his left hand, clenching and unclenching it in a fist as if he could see his purpose flowing through his veins.\n\n\"In truth, I don't think I could tell you. Why does a Gazelle graze? Why does a tiger hunt? Why does the mosquito bite? Why does the Tiny Vik help? I suppose I can't even comprehend the why of it all, like it's some Cosmic purpose given to me by the Melody that Created.\""
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Markets\n\nArin scratched his head, his shaggy hair curling around his finger as he struggled with the idea that Vik was presenting him. As his mind struggled with the dilemma it had been presented with, he began to slowly understand in his own way. \n\n\"I think I understand, but not particularly. You just help because it's right, or because you feel like you must, no?\" He began drumming his hand on the table as he kept thinking. \"I would do the same. Helping other people is one of the few things in my life that I can say I have done without asking for something in return. But still, I've accepted payment when I could. But you didn't. That's what confuses me.\" He said, looking at Vik. \n\n\"But why me? Why do I deserve anything? How could you even help me? Because right now, things only seem to get worse, no matter what I do. I lose to someone because if I win, too many questions are asked. It doesn't make sense that you would want to help me. I've thanked you for what you have done, but I just don't see a way that you could help me more.\" He said, taking his last sip of tea."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Caderyn Vortigern\nThe Ball, the Maith Mansion\n\nThe shouts of one captain, and then the next, and then the next drew Caderyn's grey eyes to and fro across the garden from person to person. He heard what they said, but his mind was still reeling from the gift that The Captain of the Guard had bestowed upon him. The polished, gleaming skull of Vronti Kelwynd. His brother's murderer, and the man the wretched people in the Southern Pantheon catered to to gain favor with. In an odd way, it was grimly satisfying, to see the one seemingly unstoppable, evil man reduced to a mere bobble to display. A talking piece. *'Bronze is too good for that beast's remains,'* Caderyn thought. For a moment, the soft warmth of Caderyn's blue-grey eyes diminished as he stared at the skull. For a moment, his gaze was unreadable.\n\nThen, Bradai interrupted the shouts and Caderyn was pulled from his thoughts as the Pirate King's firm hand clasped his shoulder. Caderyn's long violet and silver robes fluttered in the warm island breeze as he nodded to the people in front of him with a smile. \"I thank you for your most honorable gift, Captain Farensun,'' he said to Valkryn as he reached over and carefully took the skull. It felt smooth and glossy and cold. He turned to the people in the garden who were watching him, to the crews who had spoken up. \"And I thank you all, for your valiant offers of passion and loyalty. They were truly inspiring: such fervor and strength in each of the words you spoke. But by no means would I be able to choose whom to give this skull to out of all the fine captains of the isles. Each of your records precede you.\"\n** **\n\nHe paused for a moment, then turned to say something quietly to one of his guards beside him. The guard nodded, and then walked away. Caderyn turned to the crowd, still holding the skull. \"This,\" He said with a voice that would carry, \"Is the remains of Vronti Kelwynd. The man who killed my brother and his wife, the late King Caspian Vortigern and Queen Rhia Vortigern of Terresol, as well as my brother and the late Minister of Commerce, Castor Vortigern. This is the skull of the man whom the Southern Pantheon indulged after he murdered their king. They added his false god into their books, to please him.\" A crackle of ember shone in his eye as he added, \"The god he claimed wanted my family to die. And though I know that it is my duty to hold the throne until the true heir comes of age, this is a gift-\"\n\nHis words stopped as a small girl skipping alongside the guard came into his view. Her long black hair was braided intricately, and she was wearing a lovely yellow dress with golden silk slippers. Her blue eyes widened as she saw the crowd of people, and she halted her skips and instead began to walk with her head held high and her arms folded in front of her. Caderyn smiled despite himself as she walked towards him, the sound of grass shuffling beneath her feet. \"You called for me, Uncle?\" She asked in a careful, ladylike tone.\n\n\"I did,\" Caderyn said with a small smile. He handed her the skull, and her small hands held it as she gazed at it with wide eyes. She knew what it was, a skull, but she did not understand the weight of it. \"This is a present from Captain Farensun,\" He told her. While his tone was honest, it was gentle. \"It is what is left of the man who hurt your parents, all those years ago. I believe that you should be the one to keep it.\"\n** **\n\n\"I see,\" Fleur said as she stared down at the bronzed bone. She looked back up at her uncle, then turned to Captain Farensun and bowed her head ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips. \"Thank you kindly for your gift, Captain. I will treasure it.\"\n\n\"It's a great token of the determination, loyalty, and bravery to fight on behalf of one's ruler,\" Caderyn told her as he put a hand on her shoulder. \"Whenever you gaze falls upon it, it should not only remind you of how many want to see you take your rightful place on the throne of Terresol, but also-\" He gave her a small smile as he gently squeezed her arm- \"Of how many people loved and cared for your parents, and how they now love and care for you.\""
},
{
"author": "nyxession",
"message": "Valria Drase\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion.\n\nValria entered the ball room, her heels clacking down the marbled floors of the room, navigating between those who were dancing, or simply enjoying themselves standing. Her dress dragged alongside her, attached to it a bejewelled sheath, made of the finest black leather. An ebony handle stuck out of the sheath, also covered in a plethora of jewels, which glimmered like the stars. She headed towards king Bradia, Gyavin in toe, before standing before the almighty Tide Bearer. She'd take a bow, waiting a moment before returning to her stand, and removed the sheath from her dress, presenting it to the king.\n\n\"My gift to you, a cutlass, almighty King Bradai, crafted for you of the finest materials.\" She unsheathed the cutlass, revealing an expertly crafted Damascus steel blade, ripples imprinted all over the fine metal. A scarlet red ribbon revealing itself, tied around the area where the blade connected to the bejewelled handle. She once again sheathed it, before handing it over to Bradai, in a bow, the blade raised above her head."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse | The Maith Mansion```\n\nThe velvet lord made himself look comfortable, but he'd be lying if he said he was.\n\nThe servants wore masks of politeness over their faces and the food tasted bizarre. A distant akwardness hung over the dance floor and the coversations. Cyprien had begun to suspect that the Islanders were deliberately misinterpreting the King's orders to ensure that the honoured 'mainlander' guests understood how they were not a proper part of their world.\n\n_\"Tonate is a strange place with with strange customs.\"_ he reminded himself. But then the Maith captains begain to howl over Vronti Kelwind's skull. Cyprien had no love for the ursurper: but sending heads and bones, let alone gifting them, was befitting of savages.\n\nTo his relief, Caderyn handled the situation admirably: he denounced the ursurper, denounced the false god, and asserted his claim to the throne, and gave the skull to the princess. It was a fitting choice, despite the morbidness.\n\nSome buckaneer came next. His wife, a tall and slender woman, offered the King a lavishly ornate scimitar. Cyprien could've sworn it was a ceremonial blade, up until her husband began to call for the slaughter of \"Terresi dogs\" That is.\n\nAnd his own gift was nowhere to be found. He had already sent two of his aides to search for it, but to no avail. When word finally came of it's whereabouts, it wasn't from the mouth of any of the people Cyprien had tasked it's care to, but from the Lysse guard captain.\n\n\"He escaped the enclosure, Lord. My men had to bring him all the way back from that red district.\"\n\n\"Is he here?\"\n\n\"Yes lord.\"\n\n\"Then what are you waiting for? Bring him at once!\"\n\nCyprien stepped forward, and bowed before the king.\n\n\"Allow me to present my gift, in behalf of House de Lysse, and the people of Terresol,\" He added. Gyavin's earlier remark had not been forgotten.\n\nThe clacking sound of a slow trot could be heard across the hall as a white stallion crossed the entrance treshold. A magnifcent creature, unlike anything the Lysses had in their stables, for truth be told... It wasn't theirs. The stallion had been gifted to Cyprien by his vassals of House Koern, but he had considered that the animal would be of greater use here in the isles than as just another horse in the battlefield.\nNow, he could only hope it would be of Bradai Maith's liking."
}
] | 390 | 2,456 |
423.0625 | 2021-07-18 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik clapped against his wrist softly.\n\n\"That's exactly what it's like and more. To be honest, I feel empty when I can't help, it's like being hungry but food doesn't work.\" He took another sip, then poured himself a second glass of tea, quietly giggling at the questions.\n\n\"Those are much simpler answers. I didn't accept payment because I don't need it as much as you, I never carry more than I need. It's you, because Jax told me about you in a way. You deserve help just as much as anyone, despite where you're from or how you were born. And frankly Arin, I've already helped you.\" He took up his cup and sipped again, humming with glee. \"Like I said, this is my *Special* Tea. Can't you notice anything different?\""
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\nThe puzzled look on Arin's face told a far better story than what could have come out of his mouth. Maybe the ale had reached his head, or he was dreaming, but he couldn't figure out what the small man was talking about. \n\n\"How did Jax... What?\" He stammered, his brain failing to comprehend the being that sat in front of him. As Vik continued to talk, Arin began noticing a strange feeling. His hair was tickling his ear. He slowly reached an arm up to move it, but groaned as he moved it. \n\n\"What the?\" He asked, struggling as he moved his arm. It wasn't pain, but something else was holding his arm back. His muscles ached as he moved his hair, but grew even more confused when his fingers brushed against his hair, but not his ears. Before long, he realized the throbbing was no longer present in his body, and his puzzled look became an excitement he could barely contain. \n\n\"Vik. I do not want to claim something that isn't true, but am I dreaming? Moments ago I was in agony, now I can barely even feel it.\" He said, slowly standing up with a small grunt. He slowly stood on his now uninjured leg, before his eyes grew wide. He flexed the muscle on his arm, and looked over at Vik. \n\n\"I don't know how, but thank you.\" He said, before groaning as his muscles began to buckle under him. He could barely move, and he just collapsed and sat with his back against the ground. His adrenaline was high, so the pain barely fazed him. He looked over at Vik, before looking up at the ceiling. \n\n\"I'm starving.\" He said softly."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\n\"I could pinch you, if you'd like.\" Vik giggled and sipped his tea.\n\n\"I promise you aren't dreaming, lad. Besides, I already told you how. It's my tea, Arin. It helps speed things up a bit, so you just went through two months of bedrest in just a few minutes.\" He spoke as Arin stood for a few seconds. \"However you might have atrophied just a bit, nothing some exercise can't help.\"\n\nHe sipped his tea before setting it back on it's saucer. He quietly stood up, disturbing Tiddlywinks from his nap. Waddling over to the bar, he jumped onto a stool.\n\n\"Excuse me!\" He began, placing his hand on the bar top. \"When you get a chance, I'd like three bowls of stew and bread brought over to my table.\"\n\n\"We just have black bread.\" The bartender said, pouring rum into a flagon.\n\n\"We aren't that picky, thank you!\" After speaking he placed a golden coin on the counter and leapt to the floor, waddling back to his seat.\n\n\"I hope you like stew, Arin. Protein will help.\""
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\n\"Stew is better than some of the shit I've eaten on ships. Have you ever eaten a water biscuit? It's where you live a water skin out, let it warm up, and drink it as fast as possible to trick your body into thinking it has eaten. I've gone to sleep with only a water biscuit many nights.\" Arin said, stretching slowly. His body was tense, as if he had been climbing for days on end. He popped the joints on his fingers, smiling as each pop was louder than the last. He slowly used the floor to pop his back, before popping his neck as well. As he finished, he yawned before sitting up and looking over at Vik. \n\n\"Hey there kitty.\" Arin said, pulling himself into a chair and disturbing the cat. He laughed as it yawned, and slowly moved his arm over to give it a rub. The cat began reaching out its paws, meowing as it held onto Arin's arm for a moment before Arin scratched his head. The cat's loud purrs could be heard throughout the small building. \n\n\"He's adorable.\" Arin said, grinning as he rubbed the cat from head to tail. He looked up at the man at the counter, before taking a coin out of his bag. \n\n\"Hey Vik, I may not know any real magic, but watch this.\" He said, before waving his hands together and quickly rolling the coin behind his hand. He reached over at scratched the cat, palming the coin before running his fingers under the cat's head and pulling the coin seemingly out from underneath the cat's chin. \n\n\"Magic.\" He said, laughing."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik shook his head as he settled back into his seat, his tiny legs and large feet dangling over the edge as he wiggled to find his comfort.\n\n\"Fortunately I can say I haven't had a 'water biscuit,' the worst thing I ever ate was tree mold on hardtack. Starting a garden has it's hard times.\" He giggled again, watching Arin scratch Tiddlywinks.\n\n\"*Mraow*.\" Tiddlywinks said.\n\n\"He says he isn't adorable, you should see him when he's angry.\" Vik translated, before continuing in interest of Arin's magic.\n\n\"How did you do that?\" Vik asked, watching the coin roll over the young man's knuckles.\n\n\"*Mraow*?\" Tiddlywinks said.\n\n\"And he wants to know how you did *That*,\" Vik translated, referring to the palming trick."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nSouthern Isles\n\nArin smiled softly, scratching the cat's head. \"Angry? I'm sure you are a terrifying beast when you get angry.\" He said, before looking at Vik. \n\n\"The key is in how fast you can move the coin. All it takes is a small distraction.\" He said, lifting his hand, slowly moving the coin so Vik could see, before doing the small wave again, showing him how to distract the other person. \n\n\"And choose your target, keeping the coin out of sight.\" He said, slowly moving his hand so Vik could see the coin being held up by balance, the point resting on his knuckle. \n\n\"Then you just reveal it.\" He said, showing Vik the final move. \"It works on everyone, and the harder people stare, the easier it is to distract them.\" He said, before looking at Vik again. \n\n\"Like this. Watch closely.\" He said, before holding the coin in his right hand, palm up. He closed both hands, turning them over, before smiling and clapping. He kept the coin out of Vik's sight, and quickly moved it along the outside of his knuckles before turning his hands over revealing his two empty palms. The small coin dropped into Arin's sleeve, and Arin turned his hands over again, revealing he wasn't hiding it anywhere. He smiled, before flinging his arm out and catching the coin on the outside of his hand before pulling the coin back off of Tiddlywinks. \n\n\"A pirate by the name of Fink taught me it. He used it to steal, but I use it just to show off to children, or their parents.\" He said, giving the coin to Vik. \n\n\"Wanna give it a go?\" He asked, looking over."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik watched the movements closely as Arin did the trick again. When he eventually offered the coin to him, he took it, nodding vigorously.\n\n\"I have to ask, Arin.\" He said as he punched the coin between his knuckles, attempting to roll it over to his next finger very slowly. \"What is it you want to do now? You spoke of always losing, do you want to get revenge?\"\n\nVik spoke as he concentrated, trying to roll the coin over his knuckles. It was a slow process, but he made it to the last pinch. However he seemed puzzled at how to move the coin from his pinky, to the other side of his palm to start again.\n\n\"How does this part work?\" He asked a second question."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Festival, the Maith Mansion\n\nThe Captains and the King paused when Caderyn brought the little girl aside, giving her the skull instead. Bradai watched as a look of puzzlement crossed the faces of his men. Caderyn's explanation softened the expressions of a few, but not many. They had wanted their golden skull. But the war was long and his sister had been right. There would be many, many skulls. There would be gold in Sol, too. _Perhaps we will have golden skulls on the way back. When Caderyn is King and the girls come back._ He thought about the Princesses, all of the wards, coming back to spend some time in Redwall. To learn and rest and prepare. He smiled. When his men saw that, they smiled too, and some even cheered and toasted to Fleur's health and the bout of justice that had occured. Vronti Kelwynd had killed three hundred and seventeen Islanders in the Amorothi colonies. Provided they could find any of the loyalists in Vronti's reign, they would exact their revenge.\n\nHe was not sure when the main feast had come, but he had been drinking rum when it did. He had lifted his cup in between drinks, and when he lowered it, there were hundreds of plates before him. All of them steaming, vibrant, carried on spits or wheeled in on carts to then be prepared on moving trays. Bright orange monkfish, cooked in lime and grapefruit, was wheeled past him. Many of the southern wives eyed it hungrily, but he had no stomach for it. The bright yellow mackerel, with the skin crusty and seasoned, had caught his eye. It came to him at first in waves, but as he was forced to take the first bite of every meal, he began to send out portions to those he had invited. He sent one to Kirk Pinewood, one to Angelica Stafford and another to her husband. He sent a bright red lobster to Anyanka Durkhan when Silas mentioned that the two shared a similarly reddish hue. He sent scallops, fried in white wine, yellow butter, rosemary, sea salt, and bright red saffron to Eels Eels, The Kid, One Armed Waylan and Lord Cyprien de Lysse. He sent a bright green mackerel, stuffed with nuts and spices, to Gitten, another to Dennon Bigsby, and the last to Puckgordon, the court's most unruly squire and apprentice to the Seneschal.\n\nWhen the fish portion was over, there was no hope for him. 40 saffron goats, 20 goslings, 12 stewed chickens, 60 rabbits had been given over as the gift of his wives on the estate. 20 herons, 10 ducks, and 10 fat capon stuffed with kumquats and apples from the Guild of Wharfmasters. The fat capon interested him most. The bite he had taken tasted like apples and cinnamon. \n\nTwo of the ten steer that the Thissles had brought to the festival were being cooked tonight. They were wheeled in on spits in separate parts. The servants that had been cooking it all day came in, with the bones they removed draped over their tunics. The chef had already stripped the skin and viscera from the cow skulls, which hung at his hips and clacked noisily. Bradai was happy when the chef stood in the processional and gave them to him as a gift. He placed them on either side on his plates, to look down at those that gave him gifts.\n\nMountains of buttered rice with savory chopped onion, coriander, and peppers followed, carried out by multiple servants in heavy wooden dishes. These were deposited right onto the tables, and almost immediately, the Islanders began using their provided wooden bowls to serve themselves. They dug the rice into their bowls and began to pick it up from the bowl with bread, peppers, strips of fish, or their own bare hands.\n\nWhen the mountains of rice were gone, the Islanders were amazed to see that there was more, this time with pieces of salty cod, olive oil, flakes of sea salt, and pine nuts. He watched as they ate this one quicker than the last. The King laughed aloud. \n\n\" 'ave you not all been preparing for my feast? I am your King, I must serve you! We need rum! I will serve any man 'oo comes to me!\" He began to laugh then, and he felt Silas's boot against his. He laughed harder when two barrels of strong, black Zulprisan rum were placed behind him. From that point forward, the King was rarely in his seat. After a while of walking back and forth to fill cups and pass them off to his wives, cousins, brothers, and sister, he ordered it removed, then called for his mother to see the ball. \n\nWhen they wheeled out his mother, the tiny Tenley Maith, in her wheeled wicker chair, the Pirate King got off of his dias and came down to say hello. Silas had insisted against it, but not a loyal man spoke out of turn when it happened. She was the Matriarch of their King, and there was no woman more respected in the Isles than the Royal Matriarch. She had been a viper of a woman in her youth and far, far into her old age. But she had sombered some in the last five years and with the incident his Council had ruled that she would only be brought out briefly.\n\n\" 'ello!\" Bradai said, making the word a song. His mother smiled at that. He had rarely seen her smile, but these days in came easier. He still did not trust it.\n\n\" 'ello Bradai,\" She said. When the woman behind her looked down at Tenley with a reassuring glance, the two nodded to each other. Tonight, at least, was okay. And then he was reaching for her hands to squeeze them. \n\n\"Are you 'appy?\" He asked, and watched as her eyes filled with tears. She thought about that for a very long time, long enough to draw the eyes away from them.\n\n\"Poor Bradai-Daran,\" Was all she said in response. The two shared a long look before she added, \"You used to be so young.\" She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him lightly on the other side. She looked at him and then past him and then was gone.\n\n\"Let's...\" Bradai stood, kissing his mother on the back of the hand, and took the cup of rum off the ground. He placed it on her lap and watched as her spindly fingers, brown and freckled, padded against the cup. \"Let's get my muvher back inside. It's been a very long day for 'er. Aye?\" He pursed his lips hard beneath his beard.\n\n\"Aye,\" She said back, cutting into the conversation. She looked proud for having done it.\n\n\"Aye,\" He repeated, uselessly. She parroted it again, but by that point she had taken to the rum and was wheeled back behind the dias and brought inside.\n\nSilas was there, then. Behind him, to help him back onto the stage as if he would collapse at any moment. He shooed him off and looked at the feast. They were wheeling out the last of the rice mountains, this one soaked in coconut milk and made sweet with cherries, bananas, and peaches, but he had no stomach for it. He took a bite and that was all. \n\n\"I'll take tha next gift.\" Bradai said, standing behind his place at the table, cigar in his mouth. He was flanked on either side by cow skulls and barrels of rum, arms crossed against his chest. \n\n\nHe was happy to see the Drase woman. When she unsheathed the sword, Bradai uncrossed his arms and began to clap. The thought briefly crossed his mind that she might try and kill him. It was only when her fool of a husband, dressed in a vibrant cloak tinkling with silver bells, capered up beside her that he wished that someone send the blade into his own skull. He removed the cigar from his mouth to drink the dregs of his rum. Pearlygob. He called himself the Lord of the Shrouds, and by rights he was, but everyone from the men in his Council to the vagrants in the streets and Black Houses called him \"Pearlygob.\" Bradai could see why. Just to look at the man was to smile. Somehow, Bradai managed to keep his composure, even as the man insisted that it had been BOTH of them that found the gift, that he wished that he had kept it, and that he was sad that he would not wield it to kill the subjects of the little Queen he was addressing. \"Yeah, it is a coincidence.\" Bradai said, curtly, moving to dismiss them both. Then all at once, he smiled and stayed his hand.\n\n\"Please.\" He smiled at Pearlygob, in a way that some might have considered to be overly familiar. \"In vhese times uff uncertainty, we will need all 'ands. I would be mistaken to not send my most able bodied men to war. I will need you, and I would be remiss to let your ships leave 'arbor wiffout my most loyal lord be'ind an oar.\" He laughed long and hard at that, filling up a flagon of rum to pass it down to him. \"A joke, of course. We will get you a position as a quartermaster or chef on one uff my galleys.\" He laughed again, filing up another flagon and passing it over the table to his servants, who passed it off to his wife. \"I jape!\" He barked, now straight faced. \"Find a crew. I intend to see you use vhis sword you want so badly.\" He passed it back over the table, nodding to them both.\n\n\"And my Lady,\" Bradai addressed Pearlygob's wife. \"Do please meet wiff me. You look ravishing tonight, but the only fing vhat I fink might improve your look is Company Coat.\" He smiled, taking a sip of rum from a tankard and squeezing half a lime into it. He knew of her origins, a minor clan displaced on Zulprisa due to their early declaration. \"It is time to repay tha debt I owe your Clan. And you will need to look after your 'usband's port, if he is to use vhat beautiful sword you...\" He cleared his throat, \"Boff found.\" He nodded them farewell, and clapped both of his hands together to see the gift Lord Cyprien had brought him. A white stallion. \n\n\"Did you know vhat people gift Islanders 'orses very rarely.\" Bradai said, filling a flagon and passing it over to Cyprien. \"It is refreshing to 'ave someone break vhat tradition.\" He removed the cigar from his mouth and stuck it between the rings on his fingers, keeping it in place as he talked to the Lord of the Grey Hills. \"We are finally met, and in auspicious circumstances. Your son is to be your new King's champion, and you 'ave given me a favorable gift. I do not suppose vhat you came all uff tha way down Souff just to award a King you've never met wiff an 'orse he's never been given, fhough. Your people are fhreatened. I know uff de Burgh. Is 'e as pious as Kelwynd? Or will we get to coat 'is skull in some uvher metal? Lead, maybe.\" He gave the man a raise of his eyebrows, \"I trust you are finding everyfing in order. Vhere was a report uff you in the Irons. You 'ave a very nice ship. I will 'ave to see your port when I am next in Terresol, aye? I will require you at the meetings wiff tha Ibbish royalty tomorrow. To rid you uff your Lead Lord.\"\n\nHe scratched down in his parchment the gifts he had received, then set down the quill and read. _One white stallion, indeed._ Bradai thought."
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva sat alone at a far table, gently swirling a wine glass in her right hand. She stared into the small crimson whirlpool, losing herself in the spiral. Alva was usually quite attentive, but big parties like this brought back unpleasant memories and she had no intentions of stirring those up any further. She was considering not coming at all, but for her mother's sake, she figured she might as well keep up appearances. Diplomacy, that's all.\n\nDeep down, Alva knew it was all fake - the Ivanova household was no longer what it once was. She hardly belonged here, if at all. All she could do now was count down the hours until she could leave."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nThe stress from her conversation with Valkrin was eating at her, pounding at the door and threatening to send her over the edge again. Should she run? Run before she hurt someone? Run before her *Curse* Hurt someone? No, not yet. If anything, Valkrin Farensun would be the one person deserving of whatever punishment the gods sent forth. Besides, why flee from a party such as this one?\n\nShe was more inclined towards indulgence now, to forget her problems, and was swirling through the party. It reminded her some of the old days, when she had flitted through crowds, dancing and earning coin. Like a butterfly, flitting from table to table to taste the sweet nectar of decadent food and alcohol. She danced, she ate, and she drank to her hearts content. Somehow, the more she drank, the better she danced.\n\nEventually she floated to Alva's table, smiling at the brooding young woman before settling down in an open seat across from her. This table, being more on the outskirts, had fewer guests, and therefore, more of the delicious treats she had enjoyed so much at the last table! \n\n\"Rum!\" She chirped, lifting a glass from a passing servant."
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nIn spite of everything, Alva's mother would love a ball like this. The loud music, the plentiful food, the dancing - all the things Karolina relished about parties came together in a magnificent festival at Maith Mansion. Not only that, but she was also a social butterfly. There were few things she enjoyed more than chatting and laughing over fine wine and decadent pastries. Hopefully one day she could tag along with Alva when she got better...\n\nSuddenly, a loud thump snapped her back to reality. \n\nStartled, Alva inhaled sharply and her head whipped to face the drunk woman who had sat down in front of her. She quickly collected herself and instead focused her attention - and irritation - on the woman across the table. Alva had nearly managed to forget she was at a party at all and she certainly didn't appreciate her thoughts being interrupted like this.\n\nShe clutched her glass a little tighter and pulled herself together; for diplomacy's sake, of course. That's why she was here, after all. Alva looked Catarina's way and tightly returned her smile."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe Ball, Maith Mansuo\n\nThis was her moment, Her opportunity. Calypso stepped forward, gesturing to the two nearby guards to follow her, who she had convinced to hold her gifts, them being far too heavy for her. The temmerre lady red dress waved with each movement following the curve of her body as she stepped where Cyprien was once standing \"If I may, Your Highness...\" Spoke up her. \n\nUp until now, The temmerre lady had been standing still in the back, beside Fleur, not moving a muscle to avoid any unwanted attention. But now she was bowing in front of the two kings, many eyes pinning on the unknown lady in red as her Jewelry reflected the lights of the castle. \" My name Is Lady Calypso Kolgrim, Daughter of Lord Thorne Kolgrim, vassal of the De Lysse's house and from them so graciously nominated Lord. \" Too many years Calypso had to face with the sneering faces of nobles who would be reluctant to accept the title that was gifted to her family as if they linage didn't come from the same sorts.\" Despite my presence being allowed here as part of the De Lysse family entourage, I humbly ask you to accept the gifts I bring today.\" Whether they like it or not, Calypso Kolgrim was now a Lady of Terresoll, and as such, she was going to behave. \n\nThe two Guard stepped forward. One holding A long heavy sword while the other had a large metals kite shield in his arms. Both the shield and the sheat of the sword decorated with fine flowers motif, The vibrant red of the Poppins against the bright teal of the background, perfectly matched. The large cross guard of the sword imitating a couple of sharp-looking leaves, while in place of the pommel bloomed a blood-red flower like those on the decorations. \n\n\"The sword goes to you Your highness, may your strength and wisdom cut through the adversities that may come down your path, like this sword cuts through the enemy's flesh.\"\n\n\"And For Your noble sister, The shield. For her who protect this wonderful kingdom that you build and now shines like the waters which surround it, May she stand tall and proud for many years to come.\" \n\n\"I offer you these weapons, in substitution to my father's pledge of loyalty, who had tragically passed away less than a month ago.\" She looked up, meeting the Gaze of her new king. \n\"I know that if he was still alive, there would be no hesitation to swear his heart and sword to our rightful king. \" And bowed her head."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nShe took a long sip of rum, then set the glass down and began happily digging into her food. She was definitely inebriated, at this point, but to the point of being tipsy and bubbly, rather than outright sloshed. She held her liquor well enough that she could act with some level of decorum, so hopefully Valkrin wouldn't have to carry her out tonight. She'd rather not humiliate herself in front of half of Marin.\n\nEventually pausing in her indulgence, she said, \"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Catarina, and yours?\" \n\nA part of her wondered why the woman appeared so tense and unhappy. Perhaps she just needed a bit more alcohol to loosen up."
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Alva Ivanova. And the pleasure is all mine.\" \n\nAlva studied Catarina for a moment. She was drunk but not quite intoxicated. Regardless, she didn't particularly feel like watching this woman eat all night and she should probably mingle a little at some point anyway, so she opted to make some polite conversation instead.\n\n\"You seem to be enjoying yourself. Maith knows how to throw quite the party, hm?\"\n\nNot exactly her strong suit."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion \n\n*After all the trouble I went through to get that, you'd give the skull to a girl?* Valkrin let out a small scoff as he turned and walked away from where Maith's party was sitting. His most trusted guard, Sergeant Mathias, approached him with a recruit following close behind.\n\n\"I wouldn't've give vhat skull to nobody, Captain. If you ask me, vhese men should be givin' you all vhe gifts tonight.\" The young boy chirped without even saluting his captain before speaking. When the sergeant lifted his hand to strike the lad, Valkrin stopped him, giving the boy two taps on the shoulder and sending him to fetch him a drink. \"Are you feeling well, sir?\" Mathias asked, with a bewildered look. \"You've never allowed that behavior with any other guard.\" \n\n\"I'm feeling grand, sergeant. Just wanted the boy to grab my drink before I gave you the order to wire his jaw shut.\" Valkrin replied lazily, with his drink being handed to him a few seconds later. \"See if he speaks out of line after that.\" As the pair walked off to the barracks, the Captain took a seat next to a dark haired woman, one he knew from his time as a Black Poppy. \n\n\"Miss Orviati, I wondered when you'd pop up around here again.\""
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\nArin shook his head, smiling softly. \"Revenge isn't truly what I'm after. It's... More of a respect thing if I am being honest. These men, they didn't just throw me in a garbage pile, they beat me, and even after being told to take me to a doctor, I ended up behind this... Place. It led me to you, which I am thankful for, but I wasn't supposed to be here. The disrespect that those men portrayed cannot be let stand, or they will never respect me. The price they pay is not up to me, but it is truly up to them.\" He said, before looking back at his sack of coins. \n\n\"Catch the coin with your thumb, and slide it across your palm. It is simple, yet it is the part people have the most trouble comprehending. There is no... Special way. There is just you guiding the coin across your palm.\" He said, turning the coin from finger to finger before letting it rest on his pinky, and catching it with his thumb before sliding it back to its original place. \"That's the first step, the first trick I ever learned. After that, I taught myself how to do the rest. It's all about making people pay attention to the wrong details.\" He said, before staring at the coin. \n\n\"My favorite trick is one of the most simple. You take two coins, have someone hold one, while holding the other one in your palm, before claiming you can make them multiply. As someone exclaims 'no way' you say that you can. All it takes is a simple wish. And as they make their wish, you slowly place a hand on their shoulder and look at them and tell them to look under their shoe. The entire time you have kept their eyes away from the ground, and voila, a second coin that is identical to the first.\" He said, smiling. \n\n\"It works sometimes, but most of the time people just claim luck. It happens.\" He said, before looking over at Vik. \"Keep the coin. It's fun to learn to play with.\" He said, rolling his own coin across his fingers again."
}
] | 267.5 | 6,769 |
530.428571 | 2021-07-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzen Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik tried to balance the coin on his pinky and catch it with his thumb, but he was struggling. He tilted his head in frustration as he abandoned the first part of the trick just to nail this second one. The coin continued to clatter to the table after each attempt.\n\n\"So,\" Vik said, picking up the coin, \"You want to show these men that they shouldn't have disrespected you? Does that include the man they serve and the man who deseated you in the tourney? How far up does the disrespect go?\"\n\nVik finally caught the coin, and he grew elated before realizing he still had to master the third move.\n\n*I'll help you, lad, but not if you're going after one of my pets, and not if you let the darkness take you over.*\n\n\"*Mraow*?\" Tiddlywinks rubbed along Vik's leg after leaping into his seat, sensing the thoughts that zipped behind his Void-like eyes.\n\n\"I'm fine, old friend, just a little nervous.\" He said, scratching behind his striped ears."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\nArin rubbed the coin before looking over at Vik. \n\n\"Defeating someone is not disrespectful. Teaching someone a lesson is not disrespectful. But leaving someone in trash is. I wouldn't even leave my worst enemy like I was left. My enemy is only a person, same as me. Why would I want them to be treated any differently than I would want them to treat me?\" Arin said, before watching Vik struggle.\n\n\"You are trying too hard. You are treating it as if you have to force the coin into your thumb, when in reality the coin is doing most of the work. Balance it on your pinky, and allow it to naturally drop where your thumb is waiting. Once you figure out placement it becomes easier.\" He said, showing him as he spoke. \n\n\"Jax, the man I lost too, was one of the most honorable men I have ever met. Even offered me a chance to escape the life I have lived my entire life. But I can't accept his offer yet. There is still much for me to accomplish here. I've only dreamed of him, but my brother is out there, somewhere. He thinks I am dead. I want to find him.\" He said, before looking at Vik. \n\n\"Do you have a family?\" He asked softly, a hint of sadness trailing off of the last note uttered out of his mouth."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzer Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik began sliding the coin across his palm, intently focused on accomplishing a full circuit of this trick without magic. When he finally pinched the coin against his forefinger. He straightened his head in relaxation, only to begin the trick again.\n\n\"So you wish to teach these *Recent* Men a lesson, and then find your brother you've only dreamed of?\" Vik paused the trick to sip his tea, not continuing until he had placed the cup back on its saucer. \"How do you know this brother of yours even exists?\"\n\nHowever, that was when Arin asked his final question. Vik, stopping everything he was doing at the end of the sentence, standing picturesque like a statue. It was some time before he responded.\n\n\"I did have a family, once. I had a wife, and many children, a long, *Long*, time ago. We were very happy for a time. However she eventually lost her way, and later died.\" He felt Tiddlywinks bump him again, and he reached down to pat him. \"I lost most of my family that day, but I know they're in a much better place now, much better than I could build.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"He certainly does,\" Catarina replied, then took another sip from her glass.\n\nShe set the glass down and stopped her indulgence for a moment, gesturing to the party around them. \"Seems like everyone who is anyone is here. No expense spared! Personally, my favorite part of any party is the dancing and music. Spinning round and round, colors swirling, heart pounding...\"\n\nShe sighed. Most weren't dancing yet.\n\n\"Though you,\" She finally continued, raising her glance once more, \"Don't seem to be enjoying yourself much. Is there something wrong? A man? They are exhausting creatures, aren't they?\""
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva cracked a small smile and chuckled a little.\n\n\"Well, I can't disagree with you there. However, that's not the case. I'm just not very fond of parties.\" \n\nShe set her glass down and the tension in her shoulders steadily relaxed. Alva rarely went out of her way to interact with others, but she wasn't entirely antisocial. It was actually quite nice to be having a pleasant conversation as opposed to sitting alone or worse - dancing."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nMaith's Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nShe felt disappointed when he insisted it was neither the acts she mentioned, hoping some excitement from the man beside her. Instead, he began mentioning an illness regarding battle before cutting himself off which caused a raised brow. She didn't understand how the topic came to be, nor did she have any interest in it. Her lips parted as she began to speak but was interrupted when Alex stood himself up immediately after and requested her hand to dance. \n\n\"I prefer not to dance just yet.\" It wasn't that she didn't want to, she simply couldn't risk drawing attention to herself with her horrific dancing. Cecilia preferred to wait until the mainlanders were stumbling over their own feet inebriated so she kept her hands above her lap with her fingers laced together. \"I'm sure there are many others who would be more than happy to dance with you.\" \n\nHer eyes drifted towards the guests who continued to shower King Bradai with gifts before focusing back on the man beside her. \"Have you given the King a gift yet?\""
},
{
"author": "perfectlypeachy",
"message": "Lady Kelsafyr Skagerlly and her accompaniment,\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion.\n\nPurposeful footwork crushed gravel beneath the soles of boots, the evening air humid and temperate, the din of crickets and the rolling of water from the gardens were a pleasant alternative to the biting cold of the north.\n\n They had arrived late to the celebrations, but Kelsafyr had convinced her brothers it would make for a fashionable entrance. She worried that the size of the Skagerlly party would put their target on guard or raise suspicion, and in such a case, she wasn't entirely sure how she should handle it. Her main concern was Mallsrek's behaviour. Her elder brother's temperament was as fickle as the weather, almost always unforgiving.\n\n She had discussed this with Shaydrin before they departed for the Isles, confessing her apprehension for the evening in Bradai Marth's court. She was afraid to be so far from her father's protection and in an unfamiliar kingdom. She was hesitant to be in the company of strangers, outnumbered and alone with only her brother's security to rely on.\n\n\"So I alone am not enough?\" Had been his answer, with the sardonic half-smile that was his fashion. That playful look soon met its demise when he discerned the genuine concern in her eyes, and he brought a hand to her cheek. \"If any of those ponces disturb you with so much as a wrong look, find me. Call out my name if you must.\" His tone had changed dramatically, withered down to something pure and iron-dark. \"The Brass can rot, and his bride-to-be with him.. You know what I'll do ta anyone who wrongs you. You know what I'll do, sister.\"\n\nAfterwards, her brother's words of encouragement had grown more urbane as the time had drawn closer. \"You look beautiful,\" Murmured Shaydrin, readjusting his snow-white doublet. They had all made an exceptional effort, especially Kelsafyr. He laid a hand upon her forearm as the party paused outside of the mansion doors, quietly speaking amongst themselves before they made their entry. Shaydrin had a boyish charm to him, a certain way that his hair curled and shifted out of his eyes. He was very good looking, and it caused Kelsafyr to wonder why he wasn't married yet. He had brought somebody along with him, somebody that Kelsafyr didn't know. A child, and a rather strange one at that. Shaydrin had told her her name was Maren, called her his 'unbidden charm from the gods', but Kelsafyr had made little effort to speak with her. \n\nThe girl stood to Shaydrin's side, avoiding the gaze of Mallsrek, who was currently discussing with his man-at-arms. She was a funny looking thing, thought Kelsafyr, scarred and pale. She very much looked like the typical child of the Witherlands. \n\nShe caught her lingering gaze and turned her attention towards Shaydrin. She smiled. \"Thank you,\" She began, trailing a hand down the detailing of her bodice. \"I thought that I might as well try and make a lasting impression. I imagine this being our first and last time in the isles.\" She paused for a moment and looked at Maren. \"She looks stunted. I commend you for her attire, however. She certainly looks the part.\" Quietly uttered Kelsafyr, scrunching her nose. She wasn't quite sure why her brother had taken such an interest in this child. Yet, to her, she seemed very plain. Unusual in her mannerisms, yes, but mediocre all the same. Shaydrin had opened his mouth to respond, when they were interrupted by a loud voice. It was the usual tell-tale sign that her older brother was about to lose his temper.\n\n\"Are you fucking mad? Do you know who the fuck I am? There's no chance in the frozen pits of fucking hell I'm disarming my men.\" Barked Mallsrek, who was clad in full northern battle armour consisting of leather plates and minimal chainmail, with a wolf's skin draped over one shoulder. He wasn't one for formal occasions and his wardrobe reflected it. He jabbed his thick finger into the chest of an attendant standing at the doors to the mansion. The doorman had told them to relinquish all of their weaponry, and Mallsrek was beginning to kick up a fuss. His bellowing voice echoed around the courtyard as his men at arms stood poised surrounding the three nobles with Mallsrek taking the lead. The doorman looked around with an air of unease as he was faced with a behemoth of a man and a group of battle hardened men at arms. \n\nShaydrin frowned at their brother's commotion. \"He makes me want ta jump inta the harbour, I swear,\" He sighed, then laid a hand on Maren's shoulder. \"As for my charge here... Well, there's not much help about her look, but she'll keep. Our plan will keep.\" He snorted, ruffling her hair. \"I think she'll pass for a daughter of mine. A gaunt little Skagerlly sprout. Even has Big Tit's eyes, I think.\" His nose crinkled at him having just made that comparison, but he quickly moved on. \"Mummy—I don't know, Remina, let's call her—was barely able to survive the delivery, let alone the pestilence when it got to her. Poor, wretched girl.\" Mock grief darkened his face. \"Hopefully Queen Anyanka can find a place in her heart for a young, handsome widower, a lone parent like herself. And maybe other places inside of her too.\"\n\nHe gave her a sidelong grin. \"And you're the aunt that will take her off my hands when things get sultry. Are you agreeable to that, sister? You only have to tell me 'no'.\"\n\n\"Gods, Shaydrin. You aren't delicate in the slightest.\" Kelsafyr uttered, swiftly chuckling after concluding her sentence. She had said it specifically in response to his thought Anyanka might bed him, shaking his head. She looked to Maren, hoping that the girl wasn't so young where such a conversation in her presence would be inappropriate. She lowered her voice, eyeing the doorman. Luckily, Mallsrek's outburst was doing wonders for masking her and Shaydrin's conversation. \"No, it sounds like the perfect plan. You need only beckon her in my direction, and I'll take care of her for the rest of the evening. Send word to me once you've subdued her, and it's time to leave.\" \n\n\nThe Skagerlly twins nodded to one another in silent understanding and began the unsavoury necessity of reasoning with Mallsrek. After what felt like an eternity, he begrudgingly relinquished all visible weapons to the attendants, as even he could admit the orders given by their father were too important to disregard. For all of Mallsrek's anger, he was still a loyal soldier. The trio took comfort in the notion they weren't utterly unarmed, as they had each concealed a dagger on their person. They spoke for a moment longer on the plan for the evening, before nodding to the attendant, who opened the door to the estate.\n\nThe doors of the Maith Mansion swung open, and the sweet sound of music reached the Skagerlly's ears. The scent of freshly cooked food hit her nose, of sea salt and expensive wine flowing amongst good company and conversation. She turned her head and offered a firm nod to both of her brothers before she stepped into the hall and began to confidently walk down the aisle to meet the pirate king, Braidai Marth.\n\nHer heels clicked against the marble floors, her red velvet gown sweeping behind her. She had dressed accordingly for the celebration, her coffee-coloured hair pulled from her profile and clasped with a bejewelled hairpiece, tendrils of her locks framing her countenance. She gently pinched at the edge of her velvet skirt, her frame adorned in a blood-red gown embroidered with golden flowers, tightly laced and corseted. Her shoulders were bare, and her neckline plunged low, collarbones highlighted with pearl dust that caught the light and caused her to sparkle. \n\nHer brothers walked on either side of her, with Maren just behind and two scantily clad women following the child. They had four guards in attendance, one of which held a large chest in his arms. Two guardsmen flanked the Skagerlly men on either side. \n\nKelsafyr admired the ballroom, quietly making her way to the king's table. There were many people here she didn't recognise, and so her eyes began to wander. She was looking for the two men she and her party were supposed to meet, but she had never seen the self-proclaimed sea king before. She trusted Shaydrin might be able to pick him out of a crowd, but she would have very little luck. She inhaled a shaky breath and wore a feigned smile of confidence as she stepped up to the king.\n\n\"Your Majesty, it's a pleasure. Lady Kelsafyr Skagerrly, humbly at your service.\" She introduced, dipping into a low curtsy. She gracefully pinched either side of her skirt and bent her knees, lowering her head to peer down at her feet. Her brothers and their guards bowed in tandem.\n\nHer chest rose and fell with anxious breaths, her pearl necklace irritating her neck as it shifted with the course of her breathing. She awaited his call to stand, and once given she, tilted her head upward to peer at him through thick black eyelashes, slowly straightening her back and clasping her hands at her stomach. \"What a wonder it is, to finally meet you. I've heard very intriguing things.\" She cooed, her eyes wandering along the panel to admire his collection of wives.\n\n\"House Skagerlly presents to you three gifts. Girls!\" She snapped, clicking her fingers. \n\nTwo women stepped forward through the fray, adorned in very little clothing. They were both beautiful, but not exceptionally so. They bore a striking resemblance to Kelsafyr and her brothers. Their siblings, perhaps? There was a moment of silence before Lady Skagerlly began to speak once more. \n\n\"This is, er..\" She hesitated and was swiftly interrupted by her brother, Shaydrin. He could sense her unease.\n\n\"This is Big Tits and Muffy, your Grace.\" \n\n\"Serving girls, or whatever you want them to be.\" Continued Kelsafyr, brushing a lock of hair from her face. \"My sisters are very talented in the right areas. Muffy, why don't you bring the King his next gift?\" Inquired Kelsafyr, to which the gifted woman nodded. \n\nMuffy grappled the chest from the guardsman trusted to carry it and hoisted it to the King's table, setting it before him. She delicately unlocked it and pulled back the lid to reveal a treasure chest filled with jewels, some of which seemed to be family heirlooms. But very clearly not of the Skagerrly family. If he were to later dig through the hoard, he'd find a few rings stained with blood, almost as if they were forcefully taken and ripped from the hands of women who wanted them to remain in their possession.\n\nKelsafyr very carefully studied the King as he looked over his various gifts, tilting her head towards Shaydrin to offer a smile. She awaited the Pirate King's response."
}
] | 239 | 3,713 |
537.75 | 2021-07-21 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "**Maren 'Skagerlly'\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion**\n\nAh, it was so far from the cold, so far from what she was used to. But... Things were pleasant. It felt like the fire inside her was burning around her now, especially in the dress that Shaydrin had purchased for her on her behalf. It was necessary to keep her plethora of Old-Tongue scars hidden, but to do so in such a muggy environment made it a little difficult to finesse. A high collared dress made of thin, fine silk, in a pleasant baby blue. The sleeves ended a quarter way down her arms, her scars barely caressing the sun with the tips of words even she could not read. The dress reminded Maren of the soft sky. She was thankful. Whilst the adults were talking, she simply kept her eyes looking in wonder. She had not planned to be so far away from home. But now that she was, she tried to embrace it. \n\nShe wished she had brought a toy. She had made a doll from sticks and snow before, but Shaydrin had simply told her that it was mediocre and unnecessary. \n\nAlthough she was a Vessel for the Gods' will, she was still very much a soft-hearted little girl, and couldn't help but crave the things that little girls did. \n\nSpeaking of, her *Father* Was speaking of one of the scantily clad women behind them. Big Tits. Maren was *Very* Small, but her age was a mystery. She could understand more than what she let on. She understood too much. She looked at the woman, with a soft stare of pity. No one could tell, but Maren could. Big Tits and Muffy were scared. Sold off to this king. She looked down at her slippered feet with a small pout. Maren had her eyes, but only the Gods could save the prostitute's soul.\n\n-\n\nAs they entered the ballroom, finally, Maren walked up quickly to snatch Shaydrin's hand, her little hand swallowed by his as she looked at all the very pretty people around her. She felt out of place, these people were tanned. She had heard of people that could wear the sun on their skin, as the Withic people bore the resemblance of snow. She was in awe of their caramel skin, some even darker, like coffee and chocolate. She wondered if they smelled that way? She tilted her head to the side, hardly paying attention to anything else until they had reached the table before the King. \n\nShe turned her head, and it was almost like her senses were hit by a speeding cannonball. Before her stood the King, and she shuddered. All of her little hairs stood on end as she read the man before her. He was strong, built from iron and gold, his face hardened, carved from salt and stone. His hair was like the foam at sea, as if he had crawled from the ocean. Maren feared the ocean. But did she fear Bradai Maith? As she squeezed Shaydrin's hand, her lips parted, wanting to ask Bradai if he wanted a hug, but staying obedient. She let her eyes drift to the others around him, her eyes trained on the pale one. \n\nHis hair was like ink, the deepest dark. A shadow. He was pretty, but also... Unnatural. When she looked at him, she smelled blood. She simply stared, unwavering, unblinking. Who was this creature? Surely he wasn't like the rest of them. Not of this world... She finally averted her gaze, her eyes looking down at the floor before reading more nobles... There were so many..."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nCat lit up at the other woman's small smile and chuckle. It was much nicer to see Alva start to enjoy the party more, and it made Cat quite pleased to know that she had been a part of that. \n\n\"I've found alcohol makes most things more bearable,\" Cat replied with a wink. \"But I've always enjoyed parties, personally. The food, the dancing, the music, the drinks! I think this is my biggest party yet, though. I can understand where something like this would be a little... Overwhelming, I suppose?\"\n\nShe paused, then said, \"Or, wait! Underwhelming for you, perhaps?\""
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva shook her head. \"Oh no, not at all. I've been to many big parties in my lifetime, but I just can't seem to get used to them.\"\n\nShe reached for her wine glass before swirling it around a little and taking a big sip, emptying the glass. She had grabbed the glass with her right hand, and the cup sat comfortably between her only three fingers on that side. \n\n\"As much as I do love food and drinks, I dislike loud music and crowds even more.\" Alva shrugged and looked out to the rest of the ballroom at the other guests dancing and mingling. What she had said wasn't the entire truth, but naturally, she wasn't about to overshare."
},
{
"author": "timeless117",
"message": "Self-Named Sea King, Lord David Brass \nThe Maith Mansion\nThe sight of two armoured men that carried a well-crafted chest into the halls, would of graced those within the large structure. More Vivayn Knights appeared after the first two, they all entered like a silver tide, solid and moved as one, A dominant sight to behold, The Sea King in his brass attire stood out as did Reginald in the centre of the display. The Snow Crow sigil enveloped each knight's breastplates. David glanced around the room, his eyes wondered at the unfamiliar faces and clothing, it differed greatly from the North. As David stepped with proposes he allowed his thoughts to manifest, *What a surprisingly impressive sight, it would be better with less here. The warmth grows with the number of bodies in any building, the warmth is already a needless discomfort to be dealt with, the amount gift givers, all here will be introduced, nay remind of House Brass, but that isn't the main focus of this night*.\n\nThe Sea King continued to allow his eyes and nose to wander, he smelled many types of foods and many types of drinks, not pleased by all smells that met his nose that evening. He had noticed a smell particularly pleasing to him, it was coming from the table filled with a large range of food placed across it,*They have squids?* The sudden question entered his mind as he paused taking a small sniff as he walked, not allowing his interest to appear on his face, *No it's different, strange I shall try some of what is hopefully food I'm smelling later this evening*. His hidden interest broke for that moment as his brow slightly narrowed at the sight of the mystery smell causer, the coiled cooked tentacles. The now dead creature bathed in red wine sat in the centre, it looked like a squid to David but twisted, after a quick glance at the octopus The Head of House Brass continued his grand steps, he offered nothing but silence to those surrounded him *The South has much to hide, it seems, with its own squids with more legs then I've seen in the North*.\n\nThe musicians played and what they played echoed across the room, It rang like a bell to David loud and never ending. *Such noise is nothing without feeling*, he gritted his teeth under his mouth * I hope it shall be silent soon, the south can't play music clearly, the waves are the greatest rhythm to dance to,*. The Basterds Bane cut his thoughts short as he stopped, his pride filled steps that echoed as they travelled across the marble flooring. He cleared his throat loudly then gave a long stare to the two knights that held the chest in their hands, he moved his head upwards in a motion for them to follow. With another cleared throat The Brass parted the silver sea of the Vivayn Knights that surrounded him. The Sea King stepped forwards as he faced the Pirate King. The Gray Eyed Squid's eyes never faltered in that moment, then a soft smile appeared over his bearded face as David introduced himself to Bradai. His voice appeared to be clearer and less dry than it had been when he first arrived; perhaps the warm air is what his tired salt-covered throat needed. \n\n\"The Pirate King eh? I have travelled far for this, The seas from the north to the seas of the south. I be David Brass The Sea King, King Of The Seas, I am what I say by right\".He stroked his black beard as he continued to speak, the lights of the room shined off his brass attire, his black beard still had remaining seawater drops placed about when view by a closer eye. \"I have a gift that fellow royalty of the seas will be pleased with, such as you are. I had to be a part of such an event. For my house. House Brass\" He paused as he allowed the words to linger like the sound of a rock being dropped into the depth of the sea.\n\nHe would suddenly break the silence, \"And of course for such a grand old evening of celebration and see sights we simply don't have In the North. My fellow northerners, these guardsmen will offer my gift to you, it will be useful to you, it is something you could never find here, a gift perfectly suited to one that rides her majesty, that one stands before my gaze and is here to enjoy the bounty's of Dovka, The Seas herself\" He bows his head respectfully, David then gave a stern look to the knights that held the chest, they lowered their heads then made their way towards the lucky pirate and opened it up showing what it held inside.\n\nHe then glanced to the side of him as the chest opening would have taken place, The Gray Eyed Squid would be met by the sight of a woman in a red velvet gown. The golden flower pattern placed on the gown is what caught his eye the most. He noticed the painted smile she held on her, his gray eyes gave off the feeling of coldness and tiredness. David turned his head away from the red-dressed women and looked back towards Bradai Maith, a look of interest, appeared on David's face as he awaited a repose for his gift."
}
] | 464.5 | 2,151 |
295.25 | 2021-07-23 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nAnyanka Durkhan\nThe Ball, Tonate Proper.```\n\n\nThe evening had gotten boring, her dismissal by Maith was fine- if annoying. The gift he gave in return for her and Mikhail was passed off to a guard for transport, and she walked with Jax for a while longer before she decided she was tired of walking. \n\nShe was tired of the festivities, in truth. \n\nMikhail hadn't traveled on her ship to begin with, opting instead to travel on one of the vessels transporting Eclipse and crew, he had mentioned staying longer in the Isles to discuss something with Maith, and she assumed he was at the age where she didn't have to fawn over him. He was old enough to consider war, he was old enough to travel with his own guard. \n\nAnya paused their promenade, eyes sweeping over the crowd and towards the waters before reaching for Brightwater's arm. Her fingers curled around cool metal and she leaning into him, her cheek upon his shoulder. \n\n\"I'm bored of this, want to return to the ship and see who can outlast the other on the way home?\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "She took the fore for them. He trusted her for the most part, but at the first sign of hesitance about naming their bastard half-sisters aloud, he cut in. ' This is Big Tits and Muffy, Your Grace .' And then he was so bold as to show the king a shrug and a sort of wry, rueful pout of a smile, as if to say, *Strange, I know, but it is what it is*. Their names told no lies, of course, Big Tits being the most buxom of their half-sisters, and Muffy being their ... Muffiest. They were blessed with pleasant countenances, where the traces of mother had barely squeezed past the broad, squat designs of their father's imprint, though their blessings paled in comparison to his own and his sisters. They were pretty in a simple, sound way. They would do.\n\nHe couldn't withhold a wince at Kelsafyr's remarks on their offerings. Drawing attention to the decadent uses that the Pirate King might find in their half-sisters seemed indelicate, lacking in tact. He was sure Kelsafyr did nothing indeliberately in the position they were in, however, and gave her not so much as a clearing of the throat or a cautioning glance.\n\n' Hard-won jewels in there, Your Majesty.' His gaze fell on the King's many rings. ' And I can tell you have a taste. Hopefully a good one.'"
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nThe strange Captain ignored his offer to answer any questions he had about the newly reformed Eclipse, but considering he was the kind of man to give a skull to a little girl, maybe it was better he didn't get to ask anything. He was watching the Captain of the guard and his subordinates, noting how lax the formation seemed compared to his own boys, until Anya pulled him from his thoughts, laying her head on his shoulder.\n\n\"I seem to remember you making a similar challenge on the way to Taemar.\" He couldn't help but smirk, \"A challenge I do believe I lost, numerous times.\"\n\nHis eyes continued to scan as more assemblies appeared to give their gifts to Bradai, who only seemed to be getting drunker with each passing minute. The crowd of people was a sea of colors as each represented their family with colors and styles befitting their homelands.\n\n\"As you wish, My Queen. Shall I fetch the Prince?\" He looked over his shoulder at his young squire. \"Aleksandr, go tell the others to prepare the carriages. We're leaving.\"\n\nAleks wasn't paying attention to him, however, he was watching the most recent group to present themselves, eyes as wide as a rabbit who just realized they were being stewed.\n\n\"What's wrong boy?\" He asked. Aleks shook himself free.\n\n\"Sorry, Captain, I was distracted.\" His meek voice finally broke through as a whisper.\n\n\"Go tell the carriages we're leaving.\" Jax repeated his instructions. Aleks practically sank, as if a weight was freed from his shoulders.\n\n\"Thank you, sir, thank you so much!\" He saluted his captain, bowed to his queen, then began jogging out of the hall.\n\n\"That was strange.\" Jax muttered to himself, before addressing Anya again. \"Shall we, Your Majesty?\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "``` Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper```\n\nShe grinned at the memory, her head dipping briefly to hide the smile and not draw attention to the pair. A queen beaming with a smirking captain looked suspicious enough. \n\n\"You remember correctly, and yes,\" She raised her gaze, mirroring his smirk. \"You did lose.\"\n\nHe asked about fetching Mikhail, and she pursed her lips before nodding. \n\n\"We'll let him know we're leaving, he may want to stay, it's not often he gets to see Maith, but we can extend the offer for him to sail with us.\"\n\nAs if he knew what she wanted - and he tender to - he summoned Aleks with the order to prepare the carriages. He seemed off, but she didn't know the Eclipse or Jax's men to drink on the job, so he must have been lost in thought instead of drink. \n\nIt cleared soon enough and he headed off to find Mika, and Anya watched him go, nodding when promoted. \n\n\"We shall.\" She agreed, leading the way through the dancing and drinking crowd towards the edge of the gardens."
}
] | 271 | 1,181 |
2,839.333333 | 2021-07-24 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Ball, The Maith Mansion\n\n\nBradai watched as the Terresi Lady sauntered up, all meekness and manners. She bowed once, presented the gift, looked towards the ground, bowed twice, and swore her House, albeit a minor one, to Fleur and Caderyn. When she looked up, everyone could see that she was beautiful. She had heavy tresses of dark hair and sly dusky eyes to match. Suddenly, her swearing of loyalty did not seem so demure. In Terresol, there would be many eligible dames waiting for Caderyn Vortigern, looking to have his ear or his bed or perhaps even his niece's crown, but tonight Lady Calypso Kolgrim had struck first. And that had to stand for something. He heard someone whisper her name.\n\nThe King thanked her, gave her the customary gifts for a lady of her standing, and moved to dismiss her. The First Admiral, however, had other ideas. She called the woman over, close to the side of the table, just as the shield was being handed to her. Giving a gift to his sister had been clever, especially if the House she had just swore lived on a coastline, but Bradai misliked the way his sister had been looking at the woman. To a King, a gift was simply a gift, a show of submission or appreciation. To an Islander like Gitten, it was an invitation. \n\nIt was only when Bradai noticed the mark and make of the sword he had been given that he realized it had been forged on the Ruby Row, from a Islander smithy of good repute. The smith had come to his court on a number of occasions to squabble over any small thing that might threaten his already meagre livelihood. A poor man, an old man, a miser, but good at his craft. Either she had come unprepared or she was poor. Probably both. Either way, Silas had been right about her, she was clever. He was about to mention the marks when the hall was filled with Northerners.\n\nThe Pirate King did not know much of northern politics, not when he had spies and confidants to see it through, but he _did_ know that the Skaggerlies were vicious bannermen of the Vivayns. A stocky older male, a pair of twins, and a little girl, all bedecked in red and white, same as their sigil: a white gator on a crimson field. With their swampy eyes, gaunt faces and pale skin, he supposed that the comparison came easy enough. They had brought the chill of the north with them, in their cold blood. \n\nWhen men give you the name of Pirate King, there are a few gifts that are expected as commonplace. Swords, hats, animals, whores and plunder. But when they trotted out the common girls, dressed in strange parody of their own outfits, and offered up their siblings to the Pirate King, the room grew silent. To give your daughter to a King was one thing, but to hand over your own sisters? It had a devil of strangeness in it. Bradai watched as the twins leaned into each other, whispering, doting. He turned, beginning to fill up the flagons with rum. It felt strange to look upon them now. Sisters? _These northern stock.,_ he thought. By the time the drinks were passed over the table, the gardens were full of silvered breastplates.\n\nBradai watched as the rest of the Vivayn soldiers filed into the gardens, and narrowed upon the man that was leading them. He was parading them around the balcony, across the playfront that had been erected, near a bowl of braised octopus, and broadsided them into the middle of the King's court, smashing into the Skaggerly lines. The close cropped hair and beard, the squid emblazoned upon his breastplate, the complete disregard for social customs. He recognized the man from somewhere. From the sea, perhaps? Had he sailed with a man like this? He had to have been from the Northern Isles, with that glinting brass armor. Then he remembered.\n\n\"Damian?\" The Pirate King whispered, watching as the Brass began to push aside the other Northerners. He leaned forward, both of his hands against the table and his arms straight and sturdy, like columns. The cigar hung from his mouth limply, but as the soldiers came to a halt, it stood between two pairs of grinning teeth, with the firelight flickering off of the golden ones. When the man introduced himself as David Brass, King of the Sea, Bradai simply had to applaud him. \n\n\"I 'ad not noticed that someone 'ad taken tha sea from me. 'ow long 'ave we been at vhis festival? Five weeks? Two days? Seven monffs?\" The tension in the air settled, and the press began to laugh. \"And I am no pirate. A pirate steals fings. A King 'as fings brought to 'im.\" Bradai motioned to the chest, \"What 'ave you brought for me? The sea is a bountiful place.\" \n\nBut then the nightfires began to go up, the dry bonfires atop the castle walls _wooshing_ into roaring red towers of flame. Drums pounded off into the night air as the attention of the party was brought skyward, to the highest tower on the estate. Bradai looked to his left, to Silas, only to find that the man had skittered off into the darkness. The Pirate King cleared his throat, suddenly looking hurried. \n\n\"Shit,\" He muttered, placing a hand over his eyes as the Tower of the Seneschal as the nightfire atop it blazed yellow, then blue, then green, then red, until it settled into a balmy orange.\n\n\"We do not 'ave much time,\" The Pirate King said, as he began to pass out the flagons of rum. \"So you must excuse me if I do not give you the time you'd like. But...\" He popped the cigar out of his mouth, throwing it to the rounder of the Skaggerly sisters. \"Muffy, Big Tits, I do want you to do somefing for me. I want you to get all uff vhese Vivayn knights out uff 'ere. I did not call for vhem, and to fill my gardens wiff men I did not invite is not a good gift. Go be on your Winged Watcher, I do not want you in my court. The true Skaggerlies are to stay. The rings I do like. Fank you for vhem.\" He watched as guards began to pour from behind his dias, extinguishing the torches, candles and braziers. The room was growing dimmer by the second. He waved the others along, \"Now let me talk wiff tha King uff tha Sea.\" \n\nHe watched as the light of the garden began to fade and the stars began to burn little white holes in the clear black sky. It would be a good night for stargazing. \n\nWhen David presented his gift, Bradai could not give it the time it properly deserved. A thick pelt of a great northern seal. It looked like an elephant's hide. He might not find some immediate use for it, but the King's love for foreign baubles knew no end. \n\n\"I want to speak wiff you about your land, David Brass. Your bruvher was not so forffcoming,\" He passed over an extra flagon of rum for the King of the Sea, \"But ou are a Vivayn supporter, so maybe you will be different. I am a friend to Marshall Carter, but I do find 'is vassals a bit cold. Hah.\" He gave a good natured smile as the knights were ousted from the gardens.\n\n\"Please all uff you, take your gifts and take your seats, I—\"\n\nAnd then, complete blackness, save for the blinking yellow lights of the lightning bugs. Cries went up around the gardens, the squawking of waddling birds, the croaking of lily frogs and the pound of the shoreline. But then, in a literal puff of smoke, there was light. \n\nIn some of his most formative years, the King had spent his time in the courts of Old Azarya, reading, writing, studying, orating, scheming, and just as important, attending great shows of art and splendor in their Milorad Houses. Mages, inventors, physicians, charlatans, true and honest men of worldly knowledge and the titular Milorads performed there. All Milorads were men, and almost all of them were highborn, but only one of them would ever be Accapelli, the Moon Serpent. \n\nThe world erupted into light as the Tower of the Seneschal burned with a fire as white as a snowstorm. A great glass lens was held before it, and a column of white light illuminated a perfect circle in the middle of the ballroom floor, before the great playfront that had been erected.\n\nIn a sudden \"Fwoom\" A puff of smoke rose from the floor, thick and hazy grey. From it emerged two pale birch wands, clasped delicately in two similarly pale hands. But then, they opened with a click flick of the wrist, as they splayed upon themselves, revealing fans of thin teal turquoise. They flapped like the wings of a great insect as they spun the smoke into impossible shapes, first a fish, then the water, and finally into a large crescent moon that dissipated into the air, silent on the wind. \n\nA beat from a solemn drum hung in the air before the Moon Serpent undulated, contorting their body to spin and face the audience. Their face was painted, as was in typical Azaryan form, a mixture of black, white, and dull yellow to form the visage of the night sky. Another beat sent the fans spinning in his hands, slapping closed, unclosed, and then closed again, until they were being tossed through the air, sliding deftly in and out of the palms of the Milorad. The blue and silver tassels on his coat swung in motion, like waves upon a shore. And just when it appeared that the fans would not reach his hands, the Moon Serpent pulled his hands into his chest and the fans caught light in air, not claterring to the ground in some great mess but with flakes of ashes falling down no softer than snow.\n\nWith arms outstretched, he addressed the crowd:\n\n\"TWO BROTHERS!\" He cried, as the stage behind him was illuminated. \nJust as he had said, there were two brothers upon a stage, the actors frozen in time. \n\nThe Serpent placed his hands on the arms of a throne, which held the first actor. \"The Intrepid Ice Lord, pinned between his loyalties to Great Southern Kings and his...\" He cleared his throat, \"Porkly Princess.\"\n\nHe skittered across the stage, to rest his hands upon the shoulders of another man, locked in the embrace of two buxom women. \"The Princely Brother, Felix Carter. When it comes to the South, he hates everything but the women. You can ask his wife, he locked her in the dungeons!\"\n\nThe Moon Serpent stepped off into center stage, \"The brothers have not gotten seen eye to eye for quite some time. And now, someone will come to draw them apart.\"\n\nThe Moon Serpent reached behind his back for a mask, and when he placed it on his face, the crowd gasped. It was a skull. \n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, for your pleasure...\" The Milorad cupped his hands around his mouth, to shout the name of the play and the scene before slipping through the back curtain.\n\n***\"The Brother's Rebellion. \nThe City of Grand Stead, the Witherlands!\"***\n\nACT 1\n\nThe scene would open in Grand Stead, where a dusky man sits, clearly uncomfortable, streaks of black makeup running down from his eyes. He was covered in thick black pelts, and on his head was an iron crown. He was sweating profusely. His fingers tapped against the arm of the throne, impatient. \n\n\"Oh woes, oh woes, oh tireless woes, \nThat I, dear Marshall, must explain,\nFor although made from sure Northern stock,\nMy brother drives me _quite_ insane...\" \n\nThe actor threw his head into his hands, weeping comically, just in time for another actor to spring to life. He waltzed towards his brother, a whore in both arms. They both sported red blonde wigs, and one had her breasts out. He, much like his brother, was donned in thick, black pelts. His accent was foppish. Where at first it appeared he was wearing red lipstick, most everyone began to recognize the pock marks that had been painted on his upper lip. The brother, Felix Carter, began to speak:\n\n\"Oh _brother_ dear, how can you weep,\nWith all the women I've brought here?\nFor what the Northmen lack in brains,\nThe Southern women have in rear!\"\n\nFelix smacked the ass of one of the whores, which sent the crowd into a mad frenzy of laughter. Marshall removed his hands from his face, exasperated with his brother's actions. Felix smiled a sickly smile and presented both the women, who giggled and began to fawn over the Ice Lord. He reeled from them, wiping his tearbright eyes. As Marshall dodged the sultry tendrils of silk and alabaster skin, he retorted sharply:\n\n\"Well brother dear, I'm glad to hear\nThat you still love the South.\nBut oh, those whores don't like your sores\nUpon your hands or on your mouth!\"\n\nThe crowd roared with laughter as Felix shrugged with a bloody grin. His brother continued:\n\"They've proven to be valuable\nIn the Shore and in the Isles\nAnd so I think it's that we \nShow them our Northern wiles...\"\n\nFelix lowered his eyes, giving his brother a predatory look. He was fiddling with his belt underneath the dense furs. In the Island heat, the actor was soaking through his clothes. It only seemed to make the display of open lust more hilarious. \n\n\"Why, dear brother, I'd never thought\nThought you could see me eye to eye. \nBut to taste more Southern wenches?\nIt is surely worth a try...\"\n\nMarshall looked concerned, and from stage left, a young girl came to stand by his throne. She was portly, accentuated by the padding of her dress and the ham hock in her gloved hands. \n\nFelix reacted in horror:\n\n\"Oh Marshall, _NO!_ \nThat's not my kind!\"\n\nMarshall slammed his fist on the throne, prompting for Marnie Carter to drop the ham hock.\n\n\"That is my _DAUGHTER_, Felix!\nPay no mind.\n\nWhat I propose\nWe ask for trade\nIs not of simple whores.\"\n\nFelix fell to his knees in despair. The wenches ran from the throne, to hoist him to his feet. When he beat one across the face, they ran from him. He pounded his hands and feet against the stage. His brother seemed to heed him no mind and continued as his daughter clambered up his legs and sat heavy in his lap.\n\n\"I ask for fruit\nAnd wine, and grain,\nTo get my daughter off the boar!\"\n\n \"BOAR?!\" Princess Marinie shouted. \"BOAR? BOAR? BOAR?\" Her shouts for meat were accentuated by a jump upon her father's lap, who after so many jumps was beginning to grip onto his throne for dear life. His voice was a harsh rasping wheeze as he continued:\n\n\"She eats the meat\nAll day and night\nWith teeth all bared and gnashing\n\nHer waistline grows \nAnd Gods it shows\nWhen she must take her lashings.\" \n\nFelix gasped in shock, rolling onto his back. \n\n\"No whores?!\" He shouted\n\n\"No Dames?!\"\n\n\"No beautiful Islander women to warm by bed at night?\" The crowd could hardly contain their laughter. When he stood, he placed a hand on the hilt of his greatsword. A wordless threat.\n\n\"No women?!\nMarshall I must I say, I'm appalled \nAt your healthy southern wishes\nBut I must say, I will not play\nUnless I fuck their bitches!\n\nI thought that brother, just for once, \nThat we might just get along\nBut you have proven, without a doubt\nThat your royal mind is too far gone!\"\n\n\"Thems fightin' werds, uncle!\" Marnie Carter stood on her fathers lap. She drew a chicken leg from the belt on her dress, brandishing it as if it were a sword. Felix responded in kind, with the real thing.\n\n\"But if it is a fight you want\nThen it is a fight I'll send.\nBrother dear, soon our blades will cross\nAnd bring your tyranny to a bitter end!\" \n\nFelix stood and threw his heavy cape in a flourish, exiting behind the curtains of Grand Stead. Marshall put his face back into his hands and continued to cry. \n\n\nACT 2\n\nThe stage is set in Wingsway, the banners of House Vivayn, the snow crow, waving in the wind. Marshall is nowhere to be seen, but Felix stands there, two new whores at his sides. Across from him is a hunched, decrepit, but well dressed young lord, a large pink feather atop his black velvet hat. His form fitting doublet is made from fine red velvet. He is wearing a skull mask. From neck to feet, the entire lord's skeleton is made from white patterns in the fabric. Felix speaks to the lad, who is manically wringing his hands.\n\n\"I do think this plan might work\nAlthough it lacks in treachery. \nYou can help my brother see\nThe many joys of lechery.\n\nYou can show him that the North\nHas all the food he needs to keep\nHis porky daughter nice and thin\nAnd maybe that will stop his weep.\" Felix gave a pregnant pause, then added, \"—ing\". The crowd laughed again. \n\nFrom stage left, Marshall emerges, his daughter riding his back. His legs strain under the immense weight, his face covered in sweat. His knees begin to buckle as Nathaniel Vivayn takes center stage, placing a hand on his breast and clearing his throat:\nAn announcer shouts over the top of the playhouse: \"THE VIVAYN SOLILOQUY!\"\n\n\"You see, Carter Brothers, I explain\nThe many thoughts you cannot think.\nFor inside my highborn, illustrious brain\nAre many plans without a kink.\n\nNow Felix, dear, I must attend\nTo your strange perchance with Southern Whores\nYour brother's daughter, she is starving\nYou surely want to wish for more.\"\n\nThe young actress for Marnie perked up, raising her head and clearly forcing more weight onto Marshall's back. \"I'M STARVING!\" She shouted, pounding a turkey leg onto the crown of the Ice Lord. \n\n\"And Marshall, dear, you must admit\nThat Northern women are quite weird.\nThey can lift that weight and more\nAnd often have to shave their beard. \n\nIt is no shock your brothers wants\nA women of a gentler breed.\nSo don't you think it would be wise\nFor you to satisfy this need? \n\nOf course...\" Nathaniel turned towards the audience, giving a heavy wink before returning to his spot between the brothers, \"There is a _third_ way.\" \n\n\"Third?\" Felix asked absentmindedly, currently kissing one of necks of the women. \n\n\"Third?\" Marshall rasped, knees buckling from the strain on his back.\n\n\"Yeeeeeesssssssss.\" Nathaniel hissed, clearly pleased with the intrigue the proposal had caused. He took a few careful paces forwards and addressed the crowd directly,\n\n\"Now what these brothers do not know\nIs that this plan is not for them.\nIt serves purpose near opposite\nTo make them both what they condemn. \n\nAnd when their house is torn in twain\nHouse Vivayn will take the stage!\nAnd burn asunder all they've made\nAnd leave them with a mourning rage!\n\nI shall drive the brothers dear\nApart in their divisions \nAnd from that rubble I will build\nIn grand and godly vision!\n\nNow watch...\"\n\nNathaniel placed a hand on Marshall's shoulder, driving the Ice Lord further towards the ground. Nathaniel produced a purple vile from his pocket, dripping some onto Marshall's blade.\n\n\"Methinks your brother dost protest...\" They both turned their heads and watched as Felix left lovebites all over the red haired women's necks. \n\nNathaniel continued:\n\"Your proper claimant as the Lord\nHe's always been quite jealous of you\nAnd how you were your father's Ward.\n\nHe's like a snake\nJust like his mum\nThe one you could not stand.\n\nHe'll take your place\nAnd take your crown\nIf you don't defend your land.\"\n\nMarshall, now ignoring the weight of his daughter, stands upright, unsheathing his sword. The little girl fell off into the mess of pillows sewn into her dress and skittered off the stage.\n\nNathaniel creeped to the other side of the stage, getting in between Felix and his whores, earning a few kisses on the cheek in the meantime. \n\n\"Now Felix, look\nHow your brother, dear\nPrepares for battle even now.\n\nLet's end the reign \nOf Crying King\nOf Weeping Ward\nOf Beaten Brow.\"\n\nFelix pushed himself away from his women, and unsheathed a lithe saber. Both of them ushered a war cry, running towards each other, and ending the scene. \n\nACT 3\n\nThe scene is an icy tundra, the brothers alone facing off. The sound of whipping winds and a light dusting of white confetti drifts through the air. Marshall, readying his longsword in both hands, speaks first.\n\n\"Diplomacy is not my strength\nMy meetings held quite limply\nBut now you've got my on the field\nI'll cut you down right simply.\" \n\nFelix responds,\n\n\"It's days like these that keep men sane\nWhen you can kill a brother.\nWithout these values, life is pain\nOne sword slash, then another.\"\n\nFelix and Marshall converge, striking at each other with heavily choreographed blows. The band began to play a rousing theme of battle, the drums pounding as if in the belly of a great warship. They both seem to be fighting hard. \n\nMarshall shouts above the battle music, \n\n\"I can't wait to cut that smug \nSouthern look right off your face!\nWhen I pop your eyeballs that will prove \nThe North is the most civilized place!\"\n\nFelix retorts,\n\n\"We hate the South\nWe hate its plays\nAnd all their books upon their shelves\nWhy ever fight that terrible place\nWhen we can stay and fight ourselves!\"\n\n\nMarshall moves to respond, but is struck in the side with the saber. He collapses, falling to the ground, clutching his side. A small pocket on his shirt flips inside out to reveal ten or so red sewn kerchiefs, resembling blood. \n\n\"Oh woes, oh woes, oh tireless blows\nYou've struck me deep and true\nYour blade stuck to my tender side\nAnd pierced me through and through.\"\n\nFelix kneels over his dying brother, and begins whispering some last rites. His back is facing Marshall who continues,\n\n\"And now I lay here, brother dear\nAt a loss that I have earned...\nAnd yet I still fear for my Kingdom...\"\n\nNathaniel Vivayn jumps over the crest of the icy shelf, calling to Marshall:\n\n \"THEN STRIKE HIM WHEN HIS BACK IS TURNED!\"\n\nFelix sprang to attention, but it was too late, Marshall's blade has found itself way into Felix's side, and in much the same fashion, he falls to the ground.\n\n Felix shouts,\n\n\"A poison blade!\nOh brother dear, how could it end this way?\nI thought the North was some great place\nWhere honor ruled the day!\"\n\nSlowly, Vivayn banners begin to rise over the ridge, filling the horizon of the set. The two Carter brothers look at each other in horror, and begin shaking, facing up towards Nathaniel. \n\nNathaniel turns to face the audience and splays out his spindly hands,\n\n\"And so the tale of brother's dear\nMeets its such untimely end\nO, how easily families fall\nWhen they meet a wonderful friend.\" \n\n\"Fire!\" Vivayne shouted, and the sounds of many bowstrings twanging accented the fall of the curtains. \n\nThe crowd went wild."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Mouse\nThe Ball, The Maith Mansion\n\nMouse wasn't quite sure how she found herself inside the mansion of the Pirate King, Bradai Maith, yet now she found herself crawling under tables and over the skirts of noble women while her knobbly hands stopped to snatch for the stringy tail of a large rat.\n\n\"Get t'fuck ye wee wetstain!\" She hissed out at the rodent. A nobleman looked under the table at her and pulled his boot away from her side as she skittered past.\n\nWith a soft *Whoosh* Her hand flew in front of her and she caught the end of the rat's tail between her fingers, having to push her body forward and onto her stomach in order to catch it.\n\n\"Got yew!\" She cheered to herself, sitting up and knocking her head on the underside of a long, finely crafted table.\n\nWith a throbbing head, she pushed herself from under the table, a struggling rat in a balled fist. When she emerged from under the desk she found herself in a wonderland of lights. In front of her, the tables seemed to have disappeared and a man on a stage above spoke out in confidence, his face painted in bright colours and immediately Mouse was enthralled.\n\nShe watched and laughed and clapped along with the invisible audience from the aisle between two tables, her throbbing head disappearing for the moment as she watched this story come to life. When it ended the world seemed to stop.\n\nFinally, she snapped out of it and clapped along with the audience, banging one hand against the fist where a rat still sat, no longer struggling. It was then she noticed the tears streaming down her red cheeks, she had been weeping from the beauty of the poetic speech the actors recited."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "The district itself was a wonder, a place where he could sllow his mind to relax and his eyes to wander. Architecture fashioned from bloodstone, like the walls, leapt up and over all around them. It was almost like something he might have seen at home. The kings men were thronging the place, not unlike bees arraying themselves to defend the hive, and the high-up honey cells were glowing with light and tinkling with the mirth of Tonate's highestborn. Samsom pouted. It felt as though there was a subtle but deep-rooted unease in the city, a slight uncertainty about identity and character and worth. Nothing about the commoners they'd passed spoke of great love and welcome for all these continental aristocrats that were poring onto the island. This man, this 'pirate king', had turned his people's path around in less than twenty years, but perhaps they had yet to find their sure footing. And Samsom couldn't help but perceive a great dangerousness in that.\n\n' Too big for his bloody boots,' muttered Lutur as they walked, his sharp eyes lathering the place in a black glaze. ' Take an eyeful of this *Beauty* While it lasts. This city began as a den of piracy, and so it shall end once this 'king' of theirs is gone!'\n\nThey arrived at the gates of the mansion. Much of the same business, though a good deal easier. It didn't sound like much had kicked off without them, so he supposed Lutur would be more calm. Now they had to give up their weapons as well; Samsom had expected as much, giving over his blade without trouble. Goyran seemed a bit more bothered, perhaps embarassed, to disarm himself, but he was quiet and diligent boy, and Samsom banished any chagrin with a hand on the shoulder. ' Good man,' he told his squire. ' It's just like Lord Nemnous said to me. *A king's palace, a king's rules*.'\n\nLutur gave that a pointed 'hmph'. Samsom glanced at Peraz, and they walked on through.\n\nThey found decent seating, not far from the high table. Lutur became almost blue in the face with scandalized rage when he saw Cyprien sitting there, at the king's side.\n\n' This is absurd!' their lord-brother hissed. ' He's not even an archon—he's a glorified groundskeeper! What business does he have up there, and not I? It's very suspect, if you ask me. *My* Vassal ...'\n\nThey barely managed to stop him marching up. The fact that food and drink was already being laid out gave them help enough in convincing him to wait, to wait until after the gift-giving. Lutur himself had brought nothing.\n\n' And I'll lose no sleep over it,' he grumbled as he poked at the little stuffed ray floating in his soup. ' Even now, the Pirate King still enjoys wealth stolen from *Our* People, and from Araedia.'\n\n' Well ...' Samsom put in, and swallowed. ' I mean, you could say the same for us and them.'\n\n' Fie!' Lutur snapped, pounding the table and disturbing the other nearby diners. ' He needs no gift from me. My *Presence* Is enough of a gift. Me allowing the steward and his son and his little hussy to sit at the high table is enough of a gift. Even if I myself didn't think it inconceivable to offer him Terreme silks, our compatriots certainly would say so! And what lackwit am I to risk losing favour with my closest friends and allies just to appease some godless *Sproutling* Of a monarch? Fie upon that mongrel cur's expectations, and ... And who even is *That* At his side? Some Amorothi prince who's sold his dignity to be the Pirate King's goon?'\n\nSamsom looked over. There was too much distance and too little light to make out the man's features, but unlike his siblings, he knew precisely who it was, and that put a lump in his guts.\n\nThat feeling was nothing compared to what was soon to come. A man came along the gifting line. He had a fiersome look about him, with grey hair and a trim beard, and a long face that struck Samsom as unmistakably Terreme. There was a detail in the face that alarmed him, though; the glint of amber on one of his eyes. When Samsom squinted, he saw that the whole eye was made of amber, or something like it.\n\nSamsom was well-travelled, and had heard of many characters of his gracedom's stock. He knew the name of the man with the amber eye: Valkrin Farensun. The pirate. Their father's unwitting avenger.\n\nWhat came next only added to the sheer irreality of it all. The gift that Valkrin offered was Vronti Kelwynd's own gilded skull. Samsom gaze was transfixed by it. The skull was beautified now, but had once housed so dark and heretical a mind. It was sickening and pleasing and flabbergasting all at once.\n\nUnsurprisingly, the more prominent Islander captains immediately began squabbling over the skull. Samsom found himself focused on Lutur, wondering how his brother felt to see all this. The young archon's lips were apart, but his teeth were clenched, and there was a chilling intensity in his eyes.\n\n' That's Father's killer,' he murmured, and then louder and more vociferously, ' that's Father's killer! Surely *I* Must—'\n\nSamsom felt his heart roll in his chest, unsure if Lutur was about to bless or ruin his night with this outburst. Thankfully, their sister stepped in to nip either possibility in the bud. By some miracle, she was able to subdue his sudden spirit of earnest before he drew any serious attention. He thanked the gods that the Islanders themselves were to loud in their entreatments for his brother to have be heard.\n\nLutur was so flustered that he actually stood up and left under a single guard, retreating to the water gardens. It wasn't unusual for him, and in the circumstances, it was very advantageous, because it wasn't long until the pirates began openly mentioning their designs on Terresol. With wide eyes and a simulation of shock, he tried his best to make Peraz think he was as surprised to hear this as she surely was. \n\nHe'd known, of course. He knew that the man up there was Caderyn Vortigern, Prince of Terresol. When the girl came, he knew that she was Fleur, Crown Princess of Terresol. And he knew the logical inference of what the Pirate King had planned, if those two were in his company now, and him having worked for the last long while on a battle fleet not to be scoffed at.\n\nAfter a while, he just had to grip his cup and look down, avoiding all eyes but especially his sister's. The guilt was overwhelming, and that gnawing feeling, that torturous disquiet that had haunted the back of his neck ever since he'd saved Daurryn's life, was attacking him at full tilt now. He'd withheld things from his sister, one of his dearest friends. Now, he was practically lying to her as well. And there would be plenty more lying to come.\n\nIf that alone wasn't bad enough, the prince's words were enough to make him shiver. It was only a passing remark, but what he'd said about the Southern Pantheon—his accusations of their 'indulging' the Sun King—hinted at a worrying disdain that Samsom hadn't been expecting. Surely the Grand Clerics had done what they'd needed to do for the welfare of the gracedom? Denying him his divine mandate would have only sent more souls to the flame. But then again, perhaps if they *Had* Fermented religious discontent ...\n\nSamsom shook his head. That was then. He had immediate concerns with which to busy himself, like the survival of everyone and everything he'd ever loved.\n\n' Don't tell Lutur when he comes back,' Samsom murmured stiffly to Peraz. ' We'll give it time, alright? He'll ... We'll give it time.' He sipped his wine, started eating again, and said no more on it.\n\nLutur returned a while later, just as the lights were being extinguished. The play seemed well-done, and he was aware of a few half-hearted laughs out of his lord-brother—'We ought to humour this sort of thing more in Falsa,' Lutur had proclaimed midway, 'less long-winded poetry and more spectacle!'—but it all buzzed by like a fever dream for Samsom. His mind was too wracked by Caderyn, and Fleur, and Valkrin, and the skull of their father's killer that the princess now had, gilded, in her possession.\n\nThankfully, she came along soon after the play had concluded. Samsom looked at her as she drew near, perhaps a little too obviously. They'd chosen well; Terreme if her look spoke true, she was beautiful, dressed in finery, exactly that to which Lutur would be drawn. He wondered if she was really one of them, or just one of their associates. Maybe they were coercing her, just as they were him.\n\nIn any case, the dark, doe-eyed lady came to Lutur's side and placed a hand over her breast. ' My word, is it really you, *Barempsa*?' She even used a traditional style of address; he could already see a glint in Lutur's dark eyes. The woman went on, smiling coquettishly, ' Are you Archon Lutur?'\n\nHis lord-brother looked the woman over, and grinned. ' Such is my blessing.'\n\n' Oh, *Axan*, I've heard such charming things about you. My friends in Sol have told me of your intoxicating company.'\n\nSamsom winced. 'Intoxicating' was laying it on a bit thick. Lutur didn't seem to think so, however. His brother glanced at him, and Samsom was sure he was remembering what he said on the ship. *Doe eyes on the look out for crowns big and small*. Poison, though Lutur was too dull to realize. Blithe and excited, Lutur looked at her with a twinkle and said, ' It's the Solan ladies that bring it out of me, *Ellastim*.'\n\nWell, he'd certainly heard enough of this, and now everything was falling right into place. He favoured the woman with a kind smile, saying, ' Please, take my seat, *Ellauxa*. I should stretch my legs anyway.'\n\n' No, master, I shall do it.' Goyran's heartstrong offer would have touched Samsom any other evening, but in that moment, he was surprised by how much it angered him.\n\n' No, Goyran, sit down,' he said to the boy, a little too sharply. The lad's thin dark brows twisted up in a frown, and he looked away. Samsom pursed his lips. 'Really, I do need to get a walk out. I might speak to few people.'\n\nThe beauty inclined her head to him. 'Most gracious of you, ser.' *Yes, yes, wiggle your dance,* He though with a sudden, jaded spite. She slid into place next to Lutur, and Samsom, with an apologetic look towards Peraz, left them to approach the high table.\n\nThe table bore quite an assortment of faces, for him. His lord-brother's 'steward', then his son—a vague friend who had once loved Samsom's sister—then *His* Young sister, then the somewhat mysterious demarch from the Solan environs who was acting as her handmaid. His own crown princess was seated along with them, by the side of her exile uncle, and dividing the two worlds was the Pirate King and his monstrous sister.\n\nHe figured that Bastien must have won the joust they'd tragically missed thanks to an evil wind, hence why he and his dear ones were eating with the King. That did put Cyprien awfully close to the man with designs on the Terreme throne. They'd told him not to worry about the De Lysses, but he'd explained, quite heatedly, that Cyprien de Lysse was a greater player than his 'official' status suggested, and a potentially key factor in this great, bloody affair. They hadn't listened. He always had trouble making people listen off the battlefield.\n\n' Hail, Your Highness,' he called on his approach. He was coming from the periphery so as not to warrant any awkward niceties with the King; his focus was on Caderyn. ' My name is Ser Samsom of Falsa, half-brother to Archon Lutur. My lord has yet to meet you, but let me assure you that House Vortigern will have Falsa's fullest support in reclaiming the throne.'\n\nHe let his eyes fall to the golden skull, hands joined at his waist. 'Vronti Kelwyn ... He slew my father, Your Highness. Archon Baldarian was ambushed and summarily executed, for defiance. A proud man, our father. He knew what he didn't like, and gave it no countenance.' Treating the skull with a careful eye, he asked, 'Might I ... *Hold* It a moment, Your Highness?'"
}
] | 2,917 | 8,518 |
596 | 2021-07-25 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "timeless117",
"message": "Self-Named Sea King, Lord David Brass \nThe Maith Mansion\n\nThe sudden sound of laughter caught The Sea King off his guard, his stern stance shaken at that moment, David seemed to look more relaxed by the tension fading, as the laughter began to arise around his person. The Ruler of The Horn Hills looked around at the crowd, his grey eyes slightly narrowed once they met Reginald's for a moment, taking note of The Diplomat's silence. David snorted quietly as he turned back to listen to The Pirate King continued to speak his words *He thinks he knows the sea's bounty, a laughable idea, no southerner knows the true sea. They have only been blessed with the warm side of Dokva, I shall entertain him, my reasons for being here are not to-*.\nDavid's kind thoughts would have been cut off by sudden drumming, David kept his grey eyes locked to Bradai's dull grey eyes throughout the drumming. Once the drumming had faded he had not noticed the many colours of the nightfire, Black Haired Brass's eyes still locked onto The Copper Red Haired Ruler, the southern tricks gave him no interest. He remained watchful then lowered his gaze slightly as The Southern Sea Traveller started to speak once again.\n\nThe Sea King openly laughed as he watched the cigar bounce off the rounder Skaggerly sister that was offered to The Pirate King, the cigar bounced off the women like a fish bouncing around looking for water when caught. The sight entertained David greatly, his laughter started to quieten as he placed his hand over his beard mouth, as he rubbed his upper lip as he watched the Vivayn Knights be dismissed, led by Muffy and Big Tits out of the garden.*He thinks not much of the Skaggerly gifts and I couldn't blame him, I'd need three shipfulls of drink in my stomach, to even bed one of those Skaggerly whores.*\n\nThe dimness of the room surrounded David, his brass attire shined even brighter with the room's sudden loss of light. The Sea Kin glanced at Reginald once again for a moment, then walked towards Bradai. David's steps still carried great confidence to them, walking with purpose as he made his way over, he took a flagon filled with rum, which had been offered to him by Bradai. David offered a quick and small smile back as he took it, The Sea King loudly pulled a chair out for himself and sat upon it, placing himself near to The Pirate King. \nDavid took a quick sniff of the flagon, his nose wrinkled at the smell. \"You have nothing more bitter?\" The Brass asked quite abruptly \"This smells too sweet for my tongue\". The Head Of House Brass leaned back in his chair and placed the falgon back down on the table. \"Not forthcoming, you are too kind to my older Brother, he allowed our family to fall into mockery, no wonder you know nothing about my lands, The Horn Hills\" He moved his hands towards his beard and stroked it as he continued \"Daimen is a lesser man with few talents, he's grown though under my guidance, as has the land\". The Gray Eyed Squid smirked then his smirk quickly faded at the mention of Marshall Carter.\n\nThe silence in those seconds felt much longer to The Young Ruler of The Horn Hills, the confidence would have then returned to his face like the tide returning to the shores.\"Your friends are your own but they are not all mine. I arrived with those I arrived with, nothing more\". His voice carried some of the cold all the way from the north itself in those final words.\n\nDavid sighed through his nose and tapped the table slightly with his fingers as he thought to himself, *His views are clouded, This southern ruler knows not of what House Carter truly is, their ego and way of casting my family aside throughout many years, Damien is weak. A disappointment, that name was earned but he is a Brass. Our house suffered under House Carter. After all, my blood has done for them and the north, Damien failed yes, and yet he wasn't offer any aid, neither was The Horn Hills, more importantly, Dokva yes, yes I know, such feelings are not for this evening, none the less they appear, the night will be long enough, I best think less on the matter and learn what I can about this not pirate, Pirate King.* \"A drink will ease me, make me less cold eh\" David smiled slightly \"Or a good whore for the night and day after\" He offered a quick chuckle towards Bradai as he attempted to lighten the mood once again.\n\nHis eyes opened at the sight of the lighting bugs, The Horn Hills held its fair share of strange and wonderful creatures, they held none such as this, his amazement would have been short-lived by the sudden cry of the birds of the waddling bird. A slight frown appeared across The Sea King's face, it wouldn't have been hard for any to notice that the loud squawking. Caused little enjoyment for David. The display ultimately confused David, as he looked to the stage, The Basterds Bane narrowed his eyes. *What is this, a public punishment display?* He questioned in his head until the Moon Serpent started to speak, telling the tale of which was going to be retold to them that evening.\n*Disappointing, it's just one of those southern performances, like a book but with real folk instead of words, unless there is something worth looking at or a real death, this will be as interesting as watching the ship's deck dry.*\n\nThe Brass remained seated in his chair as he watched the performance, somewhat with interest. He chuckled quietly once the performer that played Felix arrived with the whores on each of his arms. \"Ha Felix wouldn't know how to treat southern or northern women'' he shook his head, \"Fucked for his name alone not his cock\", he smirked clearly filled with pride at his own words. The Brass chuckled a bit more at the performance as it had continued onward. \"Ha, not my kind,\" He said through a soft chuckle, David rubbed his brow from the southern heat as he looked at Reginald, *I do not think pale face will enjoy this as much as I do or even at all, it's a mockery of the North nothing more, I'd say, allow the South it's laughter, they are nothing, just outsiders. The one who speaks as Lord Nathaniel, seems the most into this, display of tales, The rest speak well enough nothing, I will speak of after this living book comes to a close.*\n\nDavid rubbed his bearded chin allowing his fingers to travel through the black hairs of his beard. As the play concludes, visions of both Carter's deaths flashed across The Gray Eyed Squid's mind , not even listening or matching what would have been happening on the stage at that moment. The words being spoken were lost to him, The Brass just allowed himself to enjoy his thoughts of the Carter's suffering. *Such justice would be an entertaining end. I do find it somewhat funny that even the South would rather have House Vivayn gain the victory than House Carter. Unless they think it is easier to mock the Snow Crows, that might be it, perhaps that is the reason or worse the joke about House Vivayn being able to win the war itself?* David allowed himself to swim in his questions as the play finished, and heard clapping hands and cheers around him so David clapped his hands firmly at the performers. The Brass's grey eyes still shined even in the dimmed room as he slowly stopped his clapping and looked towards Bradai.\"You think your friend would find this entertaining?\" He offered a smirk to the Pirate King as the Sea King allowed his question to sink in, like a ship sinking into the depths."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nThe two of them continued chatting politely while watching the play and the party swirling all around them. Cat was enjoying watching it all unfold, happily indulging in the alcohol that flowed like water here. She was so tempted to abandon Alva in favor of dancing, yet something about the young woman bothered her. She seemed slightly distracted and bothered, and it was more than just disliking loud music and crowds.\n\nAfter a lull in conversation, Cat paused before saying hesitantly, \"I hope you don't mind me asking, but... Is there something wrong? It seems as if you're seeking something.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nThe Maith Mansion```\n\nThe arrival of Samsom Dumagne did not go unnoticed.\n\n\"Son,\" He told Bastien. \"The scions of Dumagne are here. I must greet our liege, you stay with Ser Samsom.\"\n\nHe then turned towards Fleur. \"And you daughter, keep and eye on your brother.\"\nHe knew it wasn't necessary. Bastien and Samsom were old friends.\n\nCyprien left the table and searched the crowd for Peraz's distinctive silhoutte.\nHe found her not too far away, sitting next to her brother and away from the Pirate King's table. As always, she looked dignified.\nThe same could not be said for the Archon of Falsa, whom Cyprien found in the embrace of some vulgar wrench he could only describe as a Terreme noblewoman's parody.\nThe scene reminded him of the islander's play. Cyprien had not enjoyed it. Such crass humour was beneath him.\n\nLutur was oblivious to his vassal's presence. The woman was hoarding all his attention. Unwilling to wait, Cyprien seized the hand of his liege and kneeled to kiss the golden scallops of his signet ring.\n\n\"My lord archon,\" He said, as he had done with Baldarian so many times before.\n\n```Cyprien de Lysse\nThe Maith Mansion```\n\nCyprien didn't know much about Lutur. He had only met his new liege once in the past, in the ceremony following the late Lord Dumagne's passing. Now that he could finally speak to him without all the ceremony, the young Lord of Falsa was proving out to be... A far cry from what his father Baldarian was.\nJean's mocking voice echoed in his head. _\"The Dumagne are nothing father. Little more than a shadow of their former selves.\"_\n\n_That is not up to to me to decide_, he told himself. _My duty is towards my liege, whoever he may be._\n\n\"My apologies sire,\" He told Lutur. \"I am hailing you now.\""
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva paused to think for a moment and studied Catarina. She certainly had been drinking her fair share of alcohol and didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. Maybe it would be nice to really talk to someone. This woman had been nothing but kind to her all night and something about her just seemed trustworthy. Maybe it was her seemingly genuine concern, or her pleasant demeanor...\n\nOr maybe it was just because she was drunk. Regardless, Alva figured Catarina would just forget about the conversation by the next day anyway. She set down her empty wine glass and sighed. \n\n\"I'm not seeking anything. I just... Don't feel well at parties, really. A little ill to be honest.\" She glanced at her empty glass and chuckled. \"Maybe I just need some more alcohol.\""
}
] | 312 | 2,384 |
270.5 | 2021-07-26 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nJax nodded, and turned to the Eclipse gathered there.\n\n\"Valentine, fall in. The rest of you find the Prince, he is your main charge now.\" Jax said.\n\n\"Aye, Sir!\" They saluted and spun on their heels to rearrange the formation around the Prince.\n\nSatisfied for the moment, Jax began escorting Anya out of the hall just as the bonfires were being lit.\n\n\"I must say I was so looking forward to seeing more nobles embarrass themselves in some vain attempt to get Bradai's favor.\" Jax chuckled, but his mind flashed back to Feyshore, the *Real* Feyshore, when they put him on Bradai's case for the first time. If he had been more vigilant, how different Marin would be today."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper\n\nJax gave his orders, and she waited long enough for them to assure they were followed before turning on her heel. He came with her, escorting her out of the party as commotion started up behind them. \n\n\"You're welcome to stay and watch nobles embarrass themselves over favors they'll never earn.\" She offered, glancing sideways to him. \"But you'll lost the chance to earn favor with Maiths most powerful ally.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\n\"What, and let Valentine get all the credit once I leave?\" The younger woman broke her facade, chuckling from beneath her helmet.\n\n\"I'd be happy to serve, My Queen, for some favor.\" Valentine whispered.\n\nJax raised an eyebrow, slightly turning his head back.\n\n\"Nevermind, it seems this is just as entertaining as some upjumped nobles.\" He laughed, the sound echoing in the lavish halls, before growing quiet.\n\n\"Aleks. Did you notice his abnormal behavior? I haven't seen him like that in over a year, I wonder what came over the boy.\""
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "Anyanka Durkhan\nTonate Proper\n\nShe also was caught off guard by Valentine's comment, and she paused, turning back to look at the woman. A moment passed before Jax commented as well, and a genuine laugh escaped her, joy carrying in the sound. \n\nA small group of friends, pleasantly buzzed and enjoying a warm summers night walk back to their ship to return home. It was so.._nice_. \n\nShe paused once more, her hand finding Jax's shoulder to stop him as well. She shifted her weight onto one foot, pulling off her heel and then starting onto the other. \n\n\"I didn't notice.\" Anyanka admitted, letting the heels dangle from her fingertips as they started their walk again, careful of her steps as she walked, eyes down to look for anything that might hurt bare feet. \n\n\"But to be fair, I don't pay close attention to your squire. What was abnormal about it? And what happened a year ago that made his behavior seem strange?\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Captain Jax Brightwater\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nHe hooked an arm under hers to provide more stable support as she took off her shoes.\n\n\"Would you like one of us to carry those, My Queen?\" He offered before answering her other questions.\n\n\"Aleks has always been a good student, he's almost like the son I never had. However, it wasn't something that happened a year ago, but more accurately something stopped happening. When I first took him under my wing, he struggled to do anything besides serve drinks and read books. It took me a year to get him to break out of his shell and gain some confidence. He didn't have that great of a childhood so it's understandable, but that look he gave me today, it was like he had seen a ghost and returned to his old self.\" Jax rubbed a thumb against his left temple. \"He thanked me for leaving, he wanted to get out of there as fast as he could.\"\n\nHe lost himself in thought, before realizing the answer himself.\n\n\"Oh, fuck. Those people said they were Skagerllys, didn't they? It was likely his own family that came down to the festival.\" Jax went from pressing a thumb to his temple, to smacking his own forehead. \"I don't know why I didn't see it before.\""
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount\nMaith Mansion\n\nThe young woman waltzed across the halls of the building, admiring her new gown as she approached the ball.\n\nShe was ecstatic after the walk through the town. Anna had chosen a beautiful and simple soft blue gown, which she couldn't stop admiring on her as she wore it.\n\nIt was finally her chance to enjoy a nice and fun event; no illness, no deaths, no wars, no hiding... Just a calm and fancy ball.\n\nShe reached the doors, and she stood frozen by the entrance as everything shattered.\n\n*\"House Skagerlly presents to you three gifts.\"* Said the voice of Kelsafyr Skagerlly.\n\nAnna backed and instantly hid back into the corridor, her back pressed against the wall as her heart drummed at an alarming rate in her ears.\n\n\"No no no no.\" She muttered to herself \"Why are they here? Not the Skagerllys, gods why?\"\n\nShe struggled to breath, taking quick and shallow breaths, almost gasping. Were they there to kill her? Were they there to claim a successful taking of the lands of the Barrmounts? \n\nShe closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall, trying to get her breathing to normal. Every fiber in her body told her to run and hide, but that plan had not gone well so far. Fighting wasn't on the list either, as she was not able to hurt a fly with a slap. \n\nAn idea popped into her head. \n\n...\n\nA while later, as discreetly as she could, Anna slid next to the door that gave entrance to the ball. This time, she was back in her maid disguise. \n\nShe heard voiced booming across the place, and was shocked to find three people with striking resemblance to the Carter brothers, and the man she wished to never see again, Nathaniel Vivayn. \n\nShe stood frozen in place as she stared at the theatrical representation of the brothers rebellion, the day of her brother's wake replaying in her head as she saw the Vivayn look-alike. \n\nShe came back to the present and shook her head, moving through the room towards Kirk. She reached him and stood really close, looking down to the floor and clearing her throat to try and catch his attention. \n\n\"Lord Kirk Pinewood, sir...\" She said to him in a hushed voice \"I have a message from your wife.\""
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Lord Kirk Pinewood\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion**\n\nAfter presenting his gift, Kirk was ushered out of the way to make room for the next presenters. He caught little of those that came after him with the crowd blocking his view and the movement of people filing in and out. He decided to busy himself with getting a drink.\n\nLater, while receiving a dramatically re-enacted history lesson of the land he had married into, he heard a noise that caught his attention. Anna was standing near him, still in her maid clothes. Had the dress shop closed by the time he had sent her out to buy something?\n\n\"Go ahead...\" Kirk hestitated, trying to recall the alias of her disguise. \"...Braylena.\" He said quietly, wondering what this was about."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nCat grinned at Alva and relieved a passing servant of his burden of rum yet again. Setting it down in front of Alva, she replied, \"Tends to be good for situations just like this. 'Reason it's 'liquid courage'.\" \n\nShe winked and took another sip from her glass before continuing with, \"If there's ever anything I can do for you, let me know! To be honest, I'm... Well, I'm really just a guest of a guest.\" She had nearly admitted her lineage, but decided not to disclose that information, just in case. \"I'm happy to help, if I can. If you need something other than alcohol for your stomach or your nerves, I can get it for you.\" She winked. \"I can even read your future.\""
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount\nMaith Mansion\n\n\"There has been a problem.\" She tried to hint \"She has encountered... *Rats*, unexpectedly. Of the same kind as the ones back at home.\" Her voice remained surprisingly calm as she tried to communicate the problem to Kirk. Out of the corner of her eye, she could spot the Skagerllys in the distance. \n\n\"As you may imagine, my lord, she is very distressed at the fact such animals have reached this very place.\" She cleared her thoath, tearing her eyes away from the *'rats'*."
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Lord Kirk Pinewood\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion**\n\n\"Rats...?\" Kirk repeated inquisitively, unsure of why the message warranted this odd appearance at the party in maid clothes. He looked to where she had glanced. There were people, a table, food. Suddenly, it all began to make sense. \"Tell *My wife* That the rats where she is staying have not been known to spread plague.\" Her message was as clear as the waters of the Ibbish mountain streams. She had mentioned how there had been rats in the food carts at the outbreak of the plague in the Iron Plaines, how it had taken Rodrick so soon at the start of the chaos. The rats must have shaken Anna.\n\nHe gave Anna a wink to show he understood, and put a hand on his heart."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne\nThe Ball, The Maith Mansion\n\nThe remainder of the procession to the Ball passed quickly, though perhaps that was because Peraz had made a conscious effort to ignore her youngest brother and instead focused on her surroundings. There was an odd sort of beauty to the Islander city.\n\nUpon being prompted by guards, she gave her fullest name,\"Lady Peraz Meserle-Dumagne of Togaira.\" *And Falsa* She wanted to add. Peraz felt a strange relation to her name, it seemed to have become a list of names given to her by men she loved and who she had lost prematurely. Sometimes, she omitted Adrien's name entirely - not out of disregard but rather for the sake of an aching heart.\n\nThe night very quickly became a blur of vignettes for Peraz, her social politeness had been wearing thin over the past hour or so since the siblings had been teasing each other on the boat. But she sat beside her brothers quietly in a garden lined with long tables. Occasionally, she would spot women in fanciful crowns gossiping over their fine dinner and wines and she felt rather out of place. She was a hard woman to miss in her tall visage and taller headdress, but Peraz refused to be any less than proud (even if her politeness was wearing thin) so she held her head high.\n\nThe gift giving progressed and Peraz had paid it no heed. She had brought a gift for the king; a concertina made of ivory and decorated with golden scallops, a trinket really in the eyes of a king but she would not embarrass her brother further tonight, instead she would send one of their guards back with it before they sailed off with a letter of apology. It wasn't until a man with greying hair, an amber eye and brands burned into either side of his face stepped towards the dais and held out the skull of Vronti Kelwynd that Peraz actually became attentive.\n\nPeraz's jaw clenched. The damned thing had been gilded with shiny bronze. As Lutur began to speak, Peraz found herself taking his hand the way a sister would to calm her little brother, in a way that told him she understood what he was feeling.\n\nShe had not been at home when her father was murdered, in fact, news had not reached her until a good two weeks after. An irrational part of her always blamed herself for it, she would keep herself up late sick with the thought that *Had* She been there, *Had* She gone home for even a short time, she might have been able to save him.\n\n\"We were not the only ones to loose a father to that monster.\" She said with a voice as soft as a brook. When Lutur stood, dropping her hand, she almost didn't register it. \n\nGrief welled in her chest, her own mind went to wanting to hold the skull, if only to smash it on the floor and scatter the pieces - if only in attempt to erase the man's features from history.\n\nBut her grief was short lived, when a name she never thought she would hear again echoed through the room and she looked to Samsom with wide eyes.\n\n\"*King Caderyn*?\" She mouthed before her head turned to listen to what the islanders were saying. It was difficult for her untrained ear to understand their words at first, the accents were thick and coarse, but eventually she came to an understanding. They intended to march on Terresol. \n\nTo make matters worse, Samsom was not looking at her. *How suspicious*, she thought as she tried to regain his attention, only to be told to withhold what had been heard from their lord brother. Pursing her lips, she agreed. *If he is hiding something from me*...\n\nIn silence, she watched the play. Her head was too busy full of thoughts of grief and invasion to pay true attention, only paying a few smiles to Lutur when he laughed or joked about the play towards her.\n\nIt wasn't long before Lutur found some woman to flirt with, another Terreme? Though her dark hair made Peraz think of Azaryan ancestry. As the two laid it on thick to each other, Peraz went to roll her eyes at Samsom, only for her to watch him stand and a look of utter betrayal crossed her features.\n\nLeaning slightly into Lutur's ear, she muttered,\"What was that you were saying earlier of *Womanflesh*?\"\n\nWith no one to talk to, Peraz finished her meal in silence, still deep in thought. Caderyn and Fleur lived yet and the Pirate King aimed to put one on the throne of Terresol? How troubling that Bradai would be involved in Terreme affairs.\n\nIt was then she saw her brother flail in the corner of her eye, and it took everything in her to stifle a laugh.\n\n\"Lord De Lysse!\" Said Peraz with a polite smile,\"A pleasure to see you, it has been so long since last I saw you. We greeted your son on the way here. Bastien has changed so much from childhood, you must be proud.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion```\n\n\"Bastien emerged as the victor during the joust,\" Explained lord De Lysse. \"The islander king was very impressed. It's enough to make any father feel satisfied.\"\n\nHe avoided using the word 'proud'. Cyprien was sworn to the Dumagnes, but a lord's relationship with his relatives was the concern of his House and no one else. It was a lesson that Cyprien had learned from his father.\n\n\"As always, it is a pleasure to see you, my lady\" He told Peraz. His plum eyes darted towards Lutur, then back to the dragon of Falsa.\n\n\"Did you knew that they were spending their exile here?\" His gaze was now directed at Caderyn and Fleur. The Vortigern one, not his. \"As much as we owe the Pirate King for his hospitality, I must say that his den of privateers does not befit someone of their standing. The House of Vortigern does not belong with this flotsam.\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Fleur Vortigern\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nShe noticed the captain who had given the skull to her seemed unhappy with her receiving his gift instead of her uncle. But then again, there seemed to be lots of different expression watching her: some pleased, some unreadable, and some unimpressed. And then more approached after. She watched her uncle's face as the gifts continued, most for Uncle Bradai. It was pleasant and nice, but his eyes showed her that his mind was working fast in his head.\n\nA man approached and told her of his father's service. The little girl's blue eyes blinked, fluttery dark lashes as she glanced from the man in front of her to the glistening skull, then back at the man. He had a kind face, but his eyes seemed a bit hungry as he stared at the gift she had received.\n\n\"I'm sure he was a good man,\" Fleur said to the man. \"Kelwyn has hurt many good people. I'm sorry he killed your father.\" She tried to think of a queenly thing to say, but couldn't come up with anything very smart or good to say as she carefully let the man hold the skull. So she instead told the man, \"I'm sure he still watches over you, and loves you very much, just as my parents do for me.\""
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva smiled and took the rum Catarina had offered her. What had she done to deserve her kindness? A pang of guilt struck her chest. She had been so irritated and curt at the beginning of their conversation, yet here this woman was - nearly a complete stranger offering comfort. Being a recluse certainly dulled her social skills, but she decided she would redeem herself by the end of the night. \n\n\"Thank you. I appreciate that. And... Likewise, to the best of my ability.\"\n\nNow onto the elephant in the room. Read futures? Alva was rather skeptical of that sort of thing, but she figured she might as well humor her. She enjoyed a good parlor trick. She cocked an eyebrow and lightheartedly replied, \"But anyway... Is that so? What does my future look like?\""
}
] | 181 | 3,787 |
504.2 | 2021-07-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nBastien had arrived a few minutes before the ball commenced, his face still stoic but the expression seemed more relaxed, his pale cheeks ever so slightly flushed with a soft healthy glow. He was tipsy, and needed to be. Otherwise, socializing at an event as large as this would go horribly.\n\nBastien rarely drank spirits, and he rarely went to large gathering. Often, the two went hand and hand. If there was one, then there was the other. He saw that his family as well as Lady Kolgrim had already arrived and presumably presented their gifts. Now it was his turn.\n\n\"My gift for you, King Bradai,\" He had said with an elegant bow. Claude placed the medium-sized oak chest he had been carrying, gleamingly polished, down and opened its lid. It filled with various texts Bastien had gathered from his travels. Some were scrolls of various poem signed by their, others were notes about the location's foraging and the wildlife, certain abnormalities that were documented with sketches or drawings and witness accounts. A few artists' leather-bound sketchbooks were complied, with beautiful drawings of unknown individuals or animals or scenes as if stills from a play. Others were novels, with various themes such as a bard and his companion's unlikely adventures with mentions of monsters and magic, and a village's account of myths and dark crimes. Every book unique and with different handwriting, never having a copy. All of these had been purchased from various trips of Bastien's over the years, kept with great care and in mint condition. And all of them Bastien, with his refined and particular tastes, found to be beautiful and powerful works. Bastien could only hope that the Pirate King would agree.\n\n\"These are some of my most prized possessions I have gained from my travels, intimate creations from artists far and wide. I hope that they may suit your taste and be fit to add to your collection.\"\n\n** **\nAfter exchanging words of respect and a bow with Caderyn, he had went over to his table and sat down beside his father. The eyes, oh the eyes that stared at him. The whole room, it seemed. A vague shiver of discomfort ran through his body.\n\n\"Nah ah ah~\"Claude said quietly as Bastien reached for his wineglass. The Ibbish mercenary knight casually grabbed Bastien's glass and drew it towards himself, away from Bastien. \"You've had enough to drink as of right now, my lord,\" He said, his voice still lowered so no one else could easily hear. \"Eat something.\"\n\nBastien stared at him for a few moments, then a small smile appeared on his lips as he glanced over at the Kings and his family. He leaned forward in his chair, still smiling, and it seemed to the onlooker that it was going to be a pleasant comment or joke he was about to tell his second-in-command. But as his lips were beside Claude's ear, what he actually whispered was, ***\"Try that again and I'll break your fucking fingers off.\"***\n\nBastien leaned back, still smiling, his eyes staring into Claude's as he took back his wineglass and drank. Claude shivered slightly as he stared with wide eyes, a wobbly nervous grin breaking out on his face as he cleared his throat. Bastien de Lysse was often quite friendly when drunk, more cheerful and sociable.\n\nExcept to him."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Royal Table, the Water Gardens\n\nThe Pirate King watched as the Terreme lords began to congregate around his left arm, muttering to each other in high, lilting tones. Over to clangor of the drums, animals, and servants, it was hard to make out, but he could catch a few familiar words. Pleasantries and titles, the caste soaked in pantheist perfume. It was slipping into his very hall, even now. And soon, his guests of honor were begin pulled from their chairs to kiss rings, and the fat one began to flap and squawk so loudly the King was afraid his servants might mistake him for a great, pink waddling bird. He turned to Gitten, to see if she had noticed, but she was obsessing herself with her own Terreme. It had been one thing when the Islanders were loud, but the Terreme, in his own home? He had discussed the problems with a ball with Silas, but the Seneschal's voice still rang in his head. _\"The ball is best,\"_ he had kept repeating. \"_Let everyone get to know each other.\"_\n\nThere was something in his stomach telling him not to let the Mainlanders inspect his crews and his captains. He knew what they had to say about them. After all, it had not been his own people that gave him the title of the Pirate King in Tonate Proper. But they _were_ allies, whether they liked it or not. And by the looks on their faces, they did not like it half so much as him. He could not think of two groups more different then the Terreme and the Islanders. When he reached into the left breast pocket of his overcoat, he removed the journal he kept for the heir.\n\n_Kelwynd._ was all he was able to write. It was all they had in common. Both had been aggrieved. A complete history would go in the ships with his sister, and he would compile them. _Time is on your side._ he penned beneath it.\n\nAnd then, sure enough, the light was in his eyes, reflecting from that bronze skull. The Princess had set it upon her lap, and as consequence every so often he was blinded by a ray of torch light or firespitter's spout, reflected off of the smooth, round surface of the Amorothi Usurper. It was as if Kelwynd was speaking to him from the dead, harrying him with annoyance after annoyance, just as he had in life. Then one set upon her, like a fly to honey, asking to hold the skull himself. When she passed it across the table, he was there upon them, placing a hand on the back of the little Queen's chair.\n\n\"Kel_wynd,_\" The King corrected, his tone warm and forgiving. \"We 'ave much to teach you about the 'istories and names uff vha people vhat are a part uff your great Kingdom, your Grace. None so infamous as the skull vhat young Lord 'olds in 'is arms.\" The Pirate King paused, inspected the young man, and tightened a fist, inclining his head. \"My mistake, Ser Samsom. I—\" He was all warm smiles and eye crinkles, then. A forgetful Shitblood king. \"It appears we all make mistakes, your Grace.\" The Pirate King knelt down to place a folded cloth in front of the little girl. \"I did not fink it fair vhat I get tha lion's share uff tha gifts, eh?\" He tapped his ringed hand against the wooden arm of the chair and watched as the bottoms of the rings left dents. \"For you, your Grace.\" When the napkin was unfurled, an assortment of candied oranges, sweet yellow cherries and chilled blood plums were revealed. \n\nHe shot the boy a hard look, not provocative or mean, simply honest. He made sure to do it away from the eyes of the Princess. \"You _are_ uff mixed blood, vhough. From an Outcaste, no less. Azaryans worship the moon, and mirrors, and gemstones, and smoke and blood. Dastardly dangerous stuff, I promise you. Even wiff your lordly looks. Yours Wisdoms often told the men in Stormalong to stay away from Outcaste women, and women from men. Looks deceive, vhey said, and vhey preached upon the supposed wickedness in our souls. Outcastes, vhey said, are inherently corrupt.\" And then he was back to smiling, and a laugh rose from his throat. \"But your Queen and King _deigned_ to sup wiff me, a simple merchant. Even if your Caste 'as no love for you, our little Queen 'as a very large 'eart.\"\n\nAs he stood, he shot him an appraising glance. \" 'er Grace will need skilled men around 'er, Ser Samsom. Per'aps you will follow in young Bastien's lead. We are pleased to 'ear vhat Falsa will join our alliance against tha false Kings and Queens vhat are soon to plague your land, but my Azaryan 'as been asking after you since 'e 'eard a report you 'ad left your port wiff your 'alf-siblings. I regret vhat we cannot speak uff war tonight. Just skulls and candies and 'omelands. I 'ope to see you in my 'alls, to discuss tha matters uff landing ships on vhat norvhern coastline, aye?\" His golden teeth glimmered in the firelight."
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount\nMaith Mansion\n\nAnna stood there for a second, staring at him, not being able to believe how it flew over his head.\n\n\"For the love of-\" She left her facade as fhe felt a sting of annoyance and anger in her chest \"*Skagerllys* Kirk. There's damned Skagerllys in here!\" She whisper-shouted \"As in the ones affiliated with Vivayn, *The rat at home*.\"\n\nShe took a deep breath, clenching her jaw as she pinched the bridge of her nose.\n\nWhat was she going to do? She couldn't keep hiding from them; running away to seek help had only given her humiliation, and a husband she didn't want—under the promise of fighters being sent to the north, that she still had not heard much about. And a fight with Lord Marshall himself.\n\nFather had always been brave, going into battle for his family, his land, and his loyalty. Sibyl had always been brave, handling every situation no matter how hard.\n\nAnna had always hated war, her knees got shaky even thinking about conflict. But there was no one else to help her right now, she had to do something about the Skagerllys and she had to do it fast.\n\n\"Kirk, I need your help.\" She said as she looked at him, determination in her eyes \"Get me to Bradai.\"\n\nThe maid costume was probably going to bring her humiliation once again, but there was no time. It was either facing those bastards now or risking not finding them later."
},
{
"author": "rosstheboss.",
"message": "**Lord Kirk Pinewood\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion**\n\n*Skagerlly.* The name made Kirk recall the familial blood feud of which Anna had enlightened Kirk about her homeland in the early days of their marriage. He'd hoped most of the conflict would be resolved by the time he was inevitably forced by Lucrezia to go North, and yet here they were, as far South as most mainlanders would ever venture. His heart began to crave the solitary peace of his antique shop, but it would do him no good to dwell on it.\n\n\"To get to Bradai...\" Kirk looked to where the pirate king was resuming the reception after the play. \"You need a gift.\" He realized neither of them had much to present, so he improvised. \"Or at least something that looks like a gift until you get to him.\" He downed his drink and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping the glass with it.\n\n\"What do you need me to do?\" Kirk asked, holding the glass out reluctantly as he was unsure if it would be sufficient."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Give me your palm,\" Catarina replied with a smile, holding out her own hand. \"I have a longstanding... Connection, to the gods. I'm not as skilled as my great aunt and mother were, but they still taught me how to read the signs that are all around us. Sometimes it's interpreting a dream, sometimes it's tea leaves, and in this case, I can read your palm.\"\n\nUnfortunately, Catarina had not yet noticed the burns on Alva's hands, mostly because she had been so focused on the party and her conversation with Alva. The alcohol probably didn't help either..."
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Signs from the gods? Color me intrigued.\" Alva extended her right hand, setting it palm up in front of Catarina. Skepticism aside, she really was intrigued. She'd never had her fortune told before. \n\nAlva guessed she was about to hear the drunken ramblings of an intoxicated woman, but she seemed so certain about what she was saying. Alva would be lying to herself if she claimed she wasn't at least interested."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe Ball, Maith Mansuo\n\nCalypso should be used to the stares by now. She had spent her whole life under examination. \n\nIt was a calculated risk. Unexpectedly taking part in the gift-giving ceremony had given her quite the notoriety, more so as The First Admiral seemed to have taken her in sympathy, After offering her gifts the older woman had called her over trying to convince her to sit closer. And so she did, not wanting to waste such an occasion and definitely had no intention in potentially offending her and her royal brother. Calypso had heard stories of the fearsome Gitten, bloody ones. Her anger was the last thing she wanted to encounter.\n\nCalypso had expected to be met with a course attitude, maybe some mocking or general distasteful behavior. But instead, she found herself having a pleasant conversation with the military woman. She was rough around the edges, definitely not a high blood lady, but still enjoyable. \n\nGitten asked her many questions, about where her idea for the gift had come, about her life with the De Lysse, and how was growing up in Terresolian land, revealing that she wished to have, one day, her own castle on the territory. At that Calypso had laughed, not out of mockery, but the idea of someone like Gitten to move in a city like Sol sounded so contrasting it was comical. The dark-haired woman imagined the admiral walking around the busy streets, with her flaming red hair and the worn-out overcoat. Without a doubt, people were going to exchange her from one of the doc workers, maybe even for a man.\n\n Nonetheless, Gitten talk of the possibility as if it was already a fact, and Calypso found herself fascinated by the passion with which she talked about it, the light that twinkled behind her ocean blue eyes, and in a moment of complicity, Calypso had promised that when (\"Not If. When.\" Had said the islander) she was going to build that castle, then Calypso would have taken it on to herself to show The Admiral the city she had grown up in witch the woman welcomed with a thundering laugh. \n\nThe temmere lady got distracted for a second by the arrival of new guests, Namely Peraz Doumange and Bastian... Of course he was late. Well, almost late, but still. Lady Kolgrim did her best to not roll her eyes at the arrival of the De Lysse heir and instead offered a smile and an elegant nod at the Dagon of Farsa. For a moment Calypso contemplated the idea of introducing the two military women but feared that instead of kinship in their experience the dragon and the admiral may find competition between their accomplishments."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\nArin tilted his head up, looking at the darkened wood that held up the roof. As he inhaled, he thought about Vik's question. Everything that had happened the past few days flowed through his mind as he meditated on the simple question that was presented to him. \n\n\"It's not that I want to teach them a lesson, I'm just angry. Angry at the world. Angry at something. I don't know exactly what it is. But that anger is just eating at me, and the only thing I've ever done is fight to clear it, but it's still there, boiling under the surfa-\" He said, before noticing his hands balling up and the veins in his arms becoming prominent. He relaxed slowly, before looking at Vik and taking a deep breath. \n\n\"What would you do if you were me? Because every choice I've made has led to this moment, to us meeting. That has to mean something, so if nothing else I would appreciate your thoughts.\" He said, before calming his breathing down a bit.\n\n\"Back to your other question, though. I do believe he is out there. I've heard rumors, whispers of what happened years ago. It's why I've never made it to captain of my own ship. I'm... Some say I've been tainted, others say cursed, and others still say blessed by the sea. The most... Told story I've heard is that the ship I was on crashed, and I was the only survivor, ranting about lost souls and a brother who deserted me. It wasn't until recently that I had a dream of someone who looked like me, but different enough that I knew it wasn't me. I recognized him in my dream, but now I cannot say his name. I do remember I was his brother, and I remember our ship was...\" He said, before losing the memory. \"I can't remember.\" He said, before sipping the ale in front of him. \n\n\"That's my biggest problem. I can't remember anything before being dragged onto that fishing boat. They said I was half dead, with cuts and bruises all over me as if I was beaten repeatedly.\" He said, before taking another spoonful of the stew sitting in front of him. \n\n\"In a way, I've lost my family. Though, I don't remember knowing them. I've always been alone, as long as I can remember.\" He said, rolling the small golden coin across his fingers. \n\n\"I guess money is my only family.\" He said softly."
},
{
"author": "shadowbob34",
"message": "Lord Eric Stafford\nMaith's Feast, Tonate Proper\n\nIf Eric was not bound to service in Feyshore, he would have considered a life in the Southern Isles. The food, the rum, and the weather were all something he was enjoying. Even as day turned to dusk, the weather stayed beautiful and the people seemed as friendly as they could be toward Eric, though, they were likely paid to be as friendly as possible to guests. From the distance Eric watched as gift after gift be brought to King Maith, Eric wanted to see how they were presented and what the king's reaction was to them. He seemed to appreciate most anything that was brought to him, which relieved Eric's anxiety about giving him a gift. \n\nTaking a deep sigh, Eric drained his glass of rum before rising from his seat, for a moment, the world spun. _A cup too many, I think.__Eric thought, but he remained steady. It was only a buzz; he wasn't quite drunk yet. Picking up his gift, he leaned toward Angelica, \"I'm going to present our gift.\" He informed her before stepping off toward the king, waiting behind the curious company that had passed in front of Eric. He eyed the group and watched as they presented two scantily clad women and a chest of jewels to the king. \nThere was an element of revulsion in Eric at the amount of wealth that was exchanged as a gift to one person. Eric understood the horse, the swords, even the skull to some extent thought Eric was too far off and was busy eating to really know what that was all about. But the amount of wealth that some people had to simply _give_ to another individual was still shocking for him. The part of him that was still a peasant boy was disgusted, but he had to be practical. _This is what ruling is then,_ Eric reflected, as the king inspected the jewels before him, _this how the world we live in is ruled._\n\nFor a moment, Eric questioned everything, the goal he had in place. The likelihood of Eric marching his people to a war in Terresol, some foreign war that if anyone thought too long about, they'd wonder why a Taemarian was leading Feyshorians to place Terresolian king in Terresol. Was this absurd? \n_No,_ he resolved, _as distasteful as it is, it is imperative for long lasting security._ A world without friends is a difficult one, a lesson the Old Kingdom of Feyshore paid for dearly, Eric would not make the same mistakes. His last several years of lordship and being an advisor for Anyanka had been spent looking internally. It was time to address the threats externally, the threats that kept Eric up at night during his time as Lord Protector. \nA servant bumped into Eric's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. The servant apologized, or at least he assumed she was apologizing in her native tongue. Eric just smiled and reassured her that he was not offended, and she moved on after an awkward moment where neither really knew what the other was saying. She eventually scurried off. \n\nIn this delay, the room was filled by foreign knights bringing in some Sea-King Eric had never heard of. Eric watched the intereaction between the two, and the knights get removed as the play started. _Fuck, am I too late?_ Eric thought, watching the play in its entirety respectfully, even giving a few laughs, though he'd never been a huge theatre fan himself. \n\nOnce the play ended and some light returned Eric zeroed in on King Maith as he was once again available. It was then that Eric finally stepped up infront of the king holding a finely carved wooden box with a hinge. Eric was dressed modestly in a dark green tunic with gold trimmings and dark earthy brown undershirt and trousers, ending in black shoes and a black belt with a humble gold-colored belt buckle. His dark black hair was freshly cut and groomed for the ball.\n\nEric approached with a friendly smile that seemed to bring out his youth in comparison to many of the more important figures in attendance. \n\"Your grace.\" Eric regarded, giving a respectful bow, before handing over the gift.\n\nThe wooden box had a surprising amount of weight when passed over.\n\n\"I hope the gift find you well. I've found there are few better gifts than knowledge, in my experience.\" \n\nOnce the box was opened, Bradai would find the box to be lined with velvet cushioning. The book itself bore no title on the front, but instead bore a map of South Feyshore and Astoria, filled in with a dark purple. The rest of the book was bound in a dark black leather with silver trimmed pages. \n\n\"This is a book I had commissioned. Only two of them exist currently, and this is the original. It is a complete recent history of South Feyshore and Astoria. It details as much as possible from the day of Ramsalot's death, to the beginning of Queen Anyanka's reign. It is filled with stories, accounts, and firsthand experiences of everything that followed the Feyshore's Fall.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzer Market, Tonate Proper \n\nVik curiously looked over at Arin. Pondering the answer himself.\n\n\"If I were you, and I was just thrown in the trash...\" He began, tapping his golden chin in thought, \"I would find these men and boil their heads in brass, then I'd bring them back to Akno so they could tend my garden.\"\n\nVik giggled. It was the same giggle he always did, which only made it creepier.\n\n\"And then I'd find my brother. If there was even a chance they exist, I would pursue every lead I had. If I didn't, the curiosity of 'what if,' would always linger and eat at the back of my mind.\" Vik placed one of the bowls of stew on the floor, and Tiddlywinks leapt down to start eating. Vik also grabbed a wooden spoon, scooping chunks of meat into his \"Mouth.\""
}
] | 425.5 | 5,042 |
432.1 | 2021-07-28 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market \n\n\n\"Akno? I don't believe I've ever heard of it.\" Arin said, looking over at the cat gorging on the stew sitting on the floor. He looked back up and glanced into his own bowl, before yawning and looking over at Vik. \n\n\"Though maybe your idea can be used. Their heads, a gift. A gift to a Captain who should owe me a conversation.\" He said, before looking over at Vik and grinning widely, driving the knife in his hand into the table. \n\n\"Two heads, one for each bone that was broken. It's only fair.\" He said, a maniacal grin now stretched across his features. It wasn't revenge he was after, but he did love the fight. After two bitter defeats, he was eager to fight again. As the smile disappeared from his face, he opened his eyes again. \n\n\"I need a blade.\" He said, unfolding another burlap scar that was tied at his back, before looking down at Tiddlewinks. \n\n\"What? You don't carry something with you to carry other things? You never know what valuables you may come across at any point.\" He said, before scratching the cat's ears, groaning as he bent over."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Water Gardens\n\nBradai watched through smiling eyes as the skull slid across the table, back into the hands of the Vortigerns. He also watched as Lutur spun around, looking as his bastard half-brother concerned himself with the Kings and Princesses as he himself was squabbling with his own vassal. For an brief instant he caught the Lord's eyes, gave him a small, fatherly smile, and returned his attention to Samsom.\n\n\"Vhat is great!\" The King responded happily, grinning as he handed over a cup of rum to the bastard boy. \"It is warriors we need! You seem just tha sort.\" It was as if he had not heard the rest. \n\n\"As for the Seneschal...\" Bradai-Daran waved a hand at the boy, \"You do not need to search for 'im. 'e appears when—\" Suddenly exasperated, the Pirate King sighed, rolling his eyes and walking back to his table.\n\nSeneschal Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens\n\n\"I appear when I mean to appear, Samsom of Falsa.\" The Sapphire Seneschal, dressed now in an outfit completely dissimilar to the one in which he had started the ball, appeared as if from thin air. Where as the last outfit had been subdued, a dark overcoat thrown simply over a muted azure tunic, now he was resplendent, due with all of the fineries one might prescribe to a renown Azaryan mage in exile. \n\nLike his King and First Admiral, the Seneschal of House Maith also wore an overcoat, but cerulean instead of inky black. The jacket's sleeves were hemmed with thread of sliver sewn to resemble the vines, leaves and buds. While it bared some similarity of his King's standard, the plants bore strange fruit: skulls. They budded off the ends of branches and vines to combine the both the symbols of House Maith, the poppy flower, and that of the Family Asgarov: a hanging tree. Above that was a simple linen cloak thrown over one arm, revealing that the right shoulder of his jacket was cut away, to reveal alabaster white skin without blemish, mark, or scar.\n\nHis long raven hair was pulled back tight, so tight that not a single strand moved as Silas inspected the boy, wordlessly leaning from left to right to see every good angle of him. His hair, which had remained uncut for near sixteen years, was fastened with two sticks of solid ivory, capped with sapphires no larger then his finely maintained blue fingernails. Twice the size of those gems was the one he wore on his right hand, a ring from the Academy of Azarya. It marked him as a mage, which meant death on the Mainland and free service in the Southern Isles. \n\nHis left hand, covered in a fine white glove, slid out from behind his back, to rest upon his chin and to tap idly at his bottom lip. Through eyeslids lined with dark black kohl, wide black pupils flit back and forth, from hair and jaw to arm and back. The Seneschal even once placed a hand against the boy's chin and tilted his head upwards, so that he might get a better glance at him.\n\n\"Yes, you are a bastard,\" He sucked at his teeth. His breath smelt like clove, as if the wintery scent of Azarya still resided within him. \"But that was never in doubt. It is what you are _not_ that is of interest to me. And you are no Asgarov.\" \n\nA smile crossed over his face at that, \"And _WHAT _ a relief that is, my boy.\" He shook his head, crossing his arms against his back as he straightened.\n\n\"I would have either had to kill you or lie to you, and I am in _no_ mood to lie. And it is _so_ utterly rare to meet someone of my own country, even if they've never been, and likely never will be. You'll find that the Azaryans have less love for bastards then your other half does.\" He tittered at that, high snickering through closed lips. \n\n\"But then of course, you can be exiled for never having been a bastard at all.\" There was a hint of bitterness to his tone, but when he took a deep breath of the night air, he felt reinvigorated.\n\n\"Who was your mother?\" He turned to Samsom proudly, giving him only the most perfunctory of glances. \"Do you even _have_ the gift?\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"No, I-\" Peraz began as if to answer the lord of House De Lysse, only for her brother to begin throwing one of his fits again.\n\n\"Brother, I'm certain they are the true Vortigerns. I met Caderyn once when I was very little and I recognise his face.\" She told him, keeping a polite smile fixed to her features, trying not to scold him for so nonchalantly calling their bastard brother a bastard.\n\n\"Their place of exile has been a mystery to the entire house of Dumagne, Lord Cyprien, as I'm sure you can surmise. I admit, I find myself *Quite* At a loss for words for them.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nThe sleeve on Alva's dress pulled a little up her arm as she extended her hand to Catarina, exposing a little more of the fleshy, mottled scars. Cat just now noticed the damage done to Alva's hands and arms, though she didn't show it. Everyone bore their own scars, whether they were inside or outside. Her poor little Miri, so badly scarred for all her mother's sins... \n\nA sharp pang shot through her heart, but she hid it with a smile as she traced the soft lines of Alva's palm. One of the thicker lines seemed to travel out from the heavy scarring on the side of Alva's hand, near her pinky, passing through the scar and out of it. Someone who had survived trauma and agony, yet still soldiered on. Someone strong and determined. The line that spoke to Alva's heart. \n\nHer life line was split at the beginning, as if Alva lived two lives. It could be that she was pretending to be someone she was not, or it could speak to the trauma she must have experienced. A new life after that moment. Thankfully, the line continued far across her palm with no splitting. A long, good life.\n\nThe head and the fate lines were both split, running far across the palm until they intersected. Someone who would face a mental challenge that would shape their destiny. The line was deep and wide, a path through a dark valley, then shallowed past the split. One way was jagged and tapered into nothing, and one was straight and true, deepening back into the flesh of her hands.\n\nCat took a deep breath before raising her gaze to meet Alva's once more. \"The gods have given you an interesting future, one heavily determined by your own choices. What you choose will determine your fate... Lucky for you, you have a long life ahead of you, but how that life will look...\" Cat shook her head. \"I see a journey for you in the future, seeking after something. A journey soon. Be very wise with your choices, and be careful who you trust. The gods may place tricksters in your path to tempt your fate, but you will always have the power to choose. Choose wisely and you will find what you seek. A treasure of your heart's desire. Choose wrong... And your journey will peter out, unfruitful. A rough and jagged road to nowhere.\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nUnwanted attention was something Bastien had dealt with previously before, but never to this large a degree. He got up from the table shortly after his drink (Claude being careful to guard his fingers), knowing that the inevitability of socialization was dawning and he might as well begin now to end sooner.\n\nHe quickly learned it was not a wise course of action.\n\nNever before had Bastien been approached by so many people, namely *Women*, in such a short time, all insinuating various topics of wanting a dance to... Far more promiscuous acts. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to the gods that he had drunk a good bit of wine before arriving at the ball, and more after arriving. It made him generally more amicable and friendly, so he politely sidestepped each woman's invitation instead of sending them shuddering with one of his signature ghastly glares.\n\nPeople flocked to him, bothering him for what seemed like an hour, perhaps even more. Person after person after person. It was still as exhausting as ever to have to deal with so many people trying to talk to him. He'd like a break, perhaps on the dance floor. But not with some random woman bothering him, talking his ear off. Besides, he didn't like touching people or people touching him. At least most of the time. Hence why he wasn't seen dancing all too often.\n** **\n\nThere was a good bit of dancing, much more than he had expected. Ladies wore elegant gowns and intricate hair twists and braids, and men were dressed smartly. He looked down at his own attire. A tailor-fit, white tunic with puffed-sleeved topped with a deep blue vest embellished with silver here and there. A black belt cinched it at the waist. His deep blue pants were loose and flowing, tucked into his silver-embellished black leather boots. A silver, embroidered cape was hung over one shoulder, and a few various silver rings were on various fingers. \n\nHis eyes skimmed over the crowd. He noticed Peraz by her tall statue and wide hat, talking to his father. He thought better of approaching her. With her, his feelings were still confused and muddled. He hadn't seen her in so long, and her unexpected presence had brought out a vulnerable part of him he had almost forgotten and would have liked to forget. Besides, she was accompanied by her toad of a brother.\n\nFleur was most likely enjoying herself, wherever she was, though he would seek her out later. He didn't imagine she wanted her eldest brother hovering over her for the entire duration of the ball: Cyprien was most likely already doing that.\n\nAs he continued to glance at the guests, he noticed a flash of deep red and his eyes landed on his youngest sister's lady-in-waiting."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n \nCalypso had not touched one drop of alcohol yet. Although she was keeping a crystal Glass between her manicured fingers, it was only to keep her lips wet in the dry heat of the night. Thank goodness the light silk of her dress spared her the bath of sweat she would have had to endure in one of her Temerre dresses. It made the constant staring almost worth it. Almost.\n\nUp until now the exposing nature of the dress made her only slightly uncomfortable. She was nearly hating it now. Without the protective shadow of The Admiral, many didn't seem to find any problem to simply ogle at her. She did her best to ignore the furtive fingers that would at times gosh over her exposed back, or how eyes seemed to be drawn to her cleavage. She had made her best attempts to make it look more tasteful, decorating her neck and ears with jewels, trying to take attention away from the clinginess of the red silk. \n\nThe Temmerre lady had the suspicion that Bastian must have known how the dress would have looked, considering how meticulously he had chosen it from the stand. Maybe he had been looking forward to taking advantage of the exposed skin and let his eyes wander to his heart's content, that pig. Well so be it. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of looking embarrassed or even disturbed. Following Flewr around, keeping herself busy with conversation. Dancing with many of the men who had asked her. \n\nBut now the young Lady was requested to remain by her father's side, Leaving Calypso to wander, admiring the beauty of the event. Charcoal eyes scanning the area, studying the people around her. Her gaze met that of some other guest from time to time. Until Amethyst's eyes met hers. The young lord was staring at her from the opposite side of her room. Calypso held his gaze, taking a small sip from the drink in her hand as if to challenge him to get near her."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nTheir eyes met, and he took note that she currently wasn't minding Fleur. She was by herself. It would be refreshing to talk to someone who wouldn't try to speak politics, or grab his arm, or stare at him as if he were some exotic spectacle. Turning briefly to grab a profiterole, he took a bite as he wove between masses of people, giving courteous bowing nods to those who addressed him but didn't stay to give them the chance to ensnare him in idle chat. He was tired of keeping up the friendly talkative facade. Wiping a bit of cream off the corner of his lip, he finally made it to Calypso.\n\n\"Hello,\" He said pleasantly enough. The alcohol made him seem much more at ease, as well as slightly softened his usually harsh expression. \"Enjoying the party?\" He took another bite of his pastry as he looked down at her, and it was at that moment that he seemed to notice her exotic choice of clothing. It seemed to register, after a few moments, that the fabric she was donned in was the same as the one he had bought her earlier that day. And yet the dress now looked entirely different than it had appeared at the stall.\n\nHe swallowed his bite, then gave her an incredulous half-smile as he leaned down to be heard over the sound of the dull roar of the crowd and music. \"What on earth did you do to your new dress?\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\n Calypso blinked up at him in disbelief, staring up at the man with fire behind her black eyes. \"What *I* Did to the dress?\" Hissed her curling her free hand into a fist, stabbing her palm with her nails, clenching her jaw impossibly tight. It took her a couple of seconds to recompose herself, \"First of all that's no way to comment on a woman's appearance, do better my lord.\" Spoke her coldly. \"But I regret to inform you that *I* Did *Nothing* To the dress, this-\" And gestured to the garment \"-Is *Exactly* How it is supposed to look.\" Annoyance was clear in her voice as she took another small sip in the hope it would cool her temper. \n\nShe turned around, her pearl head chain jingling with the movement. Fixing her eyes on a random point in front of her, everything but to have to look at this idiot of a man in the eyes. \"I had to call an islander maid to understand how to wear it...\" Only then her eyes shot up to give Bastian a very harsh glare \"I forbid you from gifting me anything ever again.\" Calypso was fuming.\n\nShe should feel relieved that the man had no idea what he had bought that day, but unfortunately, the idea that he just so superficially had chosen something to have her wear only fed into her anger. What if the garment had been even more revealing? Was he playing dumb? Trying to wash his hands of her predicament?"
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nAs soon as she turned to face him, he could almost physically feel the anger rising off of her. Her hissing tone and dark eyes, crackling with a glare at him, was more than enough evidence. Perhaps it was the alcohol that made his defenses lowered, for when she glared and forbade him to buy her another gift, the expression he wore (despite his attempts to hide it) showed faint traces of hurt.\n\n\"...I see,\" He said, and his voice was quiet. Disappointed. He bought the dress simply because of the color and its high-quality fabric. Because he saw that she had wanted one, and he wanted to do something nice. He had no idea how to tell silhouettes or cuts for women's clothing. And yet despite his intentions, it had of course backfired. He had learned his lesson. As always, he did something incorrectly.\n\nHe reached over and took off the gleaming silver cape that hung over his shoulder, then draped it over her shoulders into a makeshift shawl. It was large enough to cover her exposed back, as well as cover up her front if she so wished. He adjusted it, carefully to keep his hands from touching her directly. He glanced down at her then looked away, taking a step back. He imagined she most likely did not wish to be bothered by the likes of him for the rest of the evening.\n\nIf not longer."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nCalypso's frown was deeper than the sea outside of the walls. She could feel the energy of the man beside her shift but refused to look at him. Oh, was he feeling bad now? Was he hurt? Serves him as a lesson. She brought the still full drink to her lips once more when a foreign weight settled on her shoulders, making her jump before realizing it was just a cape. Bastian's cape. \n\nShe looked at the silver piece of cloth and then up at the silver-haired man, who moped behind her. Her frown did not falter for a moment. Actually, she rolled her eyes. What was this? An attempt to fix his mistake? This man's problem-solving skills were the same as an 8-year-old. She hummed low and it might as well be a growl as she put down her drink and snatched the cape off her shoulders, stepping with determination into Bastian's space.\n\n\"Don't.\" Said her firm, stretching her arms to drape the cape back in its place. \"The damage is done already. Everyone has already seen my skin and some had the pleasure to touch it for a brief moment.\" Skilled fingers worked with the knots securing the cloth to the young lord's shoulders. \"If I am to look like a prostitute I'll do it with my head held high. \" She stepped back checking her work before looking up at Bastien with intensity \"I do not need your clumsy attempts to fix it or your pity to keep my integrity afloat.\" Calypso's voice was not loud, but the coldness in her voice she was sure would reach the De Lysse men's ears just fine. \n\n\"And the colors would clash terribly,\" Added her with a more relaxed demeanor. \"Now stop moping, I'm sure many here between the guests would thank you for your innocent mistake, if their stares are anything to be taken seriously.\" She added this last part with a bitter chuckle but kept her head high."
}
] | 379.5 | 4,321 |
388.25 | 2021-07-29 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion```\n\n\"Indeed,\" Replied Cyprien. \"The tides of fate have marooned us all at world's end. In the case of the royal House and my own, it has been tides of misforune. What about you, my lady?\"\n\nThe mention of the dire straits he was in reminded Cyprien of something. He turned towards Lutur and asked.\n\"Forgive me sire, but I must know: why haven't you answered my requests for reinforcements? The threat of John de Burgh is unlike anything Terresol has faced in centuries. If the faithless barbarian triumps here, the entire kingdom will be ravaged. Even the faith of Saris will be in danger!\"\n\nHe didn't have time to finish. His attention was suddenly seized by the the sight of his daughter holding his wrist.\n\nLittle Fleur wasn't so little any more, but this was still her first public event. He shouldn't have left her alone. Wait... Why was she alone? And where was Bastien? Where was that retainer of hers, or noblewoman, or whatever?\n\nThey were together. In the dance floor. Bickering with each other and oblivious to everyone else. Cyprien's hands curled into fists. Alas, there were more imporrant matters at hand. His son would have to wait. Not for long though.\n\n\"My lieges, allow me to introduce you Fleur de Lysse: my youngest daughter and the only member of our family that I believe you were yet to meet. I guess her mother can be very... Protective.\nDaughter, these are Lord Lutur and Lady Peraz of House Dumagne.\""
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzer Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik nodded as he ate some more stew.\n\n\"Akno is a lovely little piece of farmland in Terresol, it's my home currently. I would love it if you came and visited some time.\" Vik stopped to listen to him again, no longer watching with curiosity.\n\n\"And how will you find these men? How will you get them to the Captain?\" He waited for Arin's reply before continuing. \"And what if I said I could help you with both?\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "He looked aside at the man, unsmiling, with a grave look in his eyes. ' That was before the Inquisition, of course. I don't know if Mother is still alive. She tossed me into Archon Baldarian's care before my teeth were out.' He flashed a mirthless smile, then looked away again. His voice slung low then, growing narrow and intense. ' All I know is that I was lucky enough not to inherit a single drop of her cursed blood.'"
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens\n\nAs Samsom began to talk, Silas began to walk, beckoning for the boy to follow him into the Water Gardens, away from the tumult of the ballroom crowd. He had judged correctly that the guests would stay up onto the balcony unless lead down the stairs by someone familiar with the grounds. The servants were just lighting it up when they arrived.\n\nAs they came down the right side of the large double stairs, the sprawling gardens of House Maith were revealed. Encircled by the Redstone Keep to the east, the Redwall to the west, and the Maith Mansion to the North, the gardens might have felt like a glorified courtyard, a trifle in the estate of any common merchant. But to the south was the massive conservatory, a manse within the mansion, a sprawling house of glass and green cast iron that held, according to Silas, every exotic spice, beautiful flower, and deadly poison in the known world. Beyond that was the royal harbor, the opulent pleasure barge His Sixteen Rings, and after a league of open, cool, turquoise water, the fortified Seawall.\n\nThe night breeze coming off of the water brought notes of sea and salt to the rich floral smell of the gardens. Fountains poured in every direction, most of all from the torrent of white water that spilled from the center of the stairs, beneath the ballroom floor. Anyone who walked the grounds could hear the water, pumped from the high mountain streams, rush beneath their feet, cooling the walkways and leaving the pools fit for many of Tonate's inland plants. Huge palms sprouted up into the air and smaller palms and bushes of hibiscus and other tropical flowers from great clay pots. Figs, oranges and lemons grew, falling off of their branches and bobbing in the cool, clear water, which was filled to bursting with reeds, rice, and great green lilypads fit for the fattest of frogs. When a servant reached down to grab the fruit and deposit it into a wicker basket, the Seneschal stopped him by picking up the fig, wiping it against his jacket, and taking a succulent bite. The juice ran down his chin and fingers before he handed it over to the bastard boy. \"Did you know these figs require _wasps_ to pollinate them? There are no wasps in this one,\" He pulled out a blue kerchief from his breast pocket and used it to wipe the nectar from his fingers. \"Pity that it is. I do love a good wasp.\" \n\nHe listed to the boy intently, \"There are no witches in Azarya, my boy. None that we call witches, anyways. There are Babas, Yeyes, Yagas, but no such thing as _witches,_ just old mage women that want to be left alone. And who can blame them? Not all men can be _Terreme,_ I'm afraid.\" He tittered again, watching as the servants ran before him to light the candles, torches and set jars of fireflies into the streamers between palms. Despite having gone before him, it always felt as if the Seneschal was leading his servants.\n\n\"It is no rare thing for a woods woman to be found doing terrible things and dragged beyond the walls, though.\" He did not recognize the last name of the woman he spoke of, a phenomenon which was becoming increasingly less rare with every day spent beyond the walls. Any time spent away atrophied your knowledge of the courts fast paced politics, but this woman was in the past, and so he did not feel the particular sense of betrayal, longing and madness that so commonly accompanied the forgetfulness of his homeland. \"And anyone can rise high in Azaryan society, even if they are a woman. It pains me that you know so little of your homeland. It is _your_ world that turns women into broodmares, perfumed ladies in obnoxious finery. Your mother was not a witch, she was a _mage_ and...\" The Sapphire Mage leaned in closely, removing a tiny cigar from a silvered case. He slid it between his lips and snapped his fingers, enveloping the tips of his two longest fingers in pale blue flame. \"If _that_ is true, then only one thing _is_ for certain, my young Samsom.\" When it caught the cigarette, the embers burned black, until resolving to red. It cast them both in a pall of shivering grey. \n\nThe Seneschal puffed once, twice, and removed the cigarette from his mouth. He laughed his shrill, twittering laugh. \"You most certainly _are_ cursed.\""
}
] | 236.5 | 1,553 |
323.25 | 2021-08-02 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\nArin scratched the back of his head, thinking. \n\n\"Last thing I remember them saying was they were on watch for the joust for the entire night. Maybe they are watching the stables, or somewhere nearby.\" He said, thinking. There was no way to know for certain. \n\n\"If you can help, that would be much easier. I just don't know how you would.\" He said, stretching his legs out. The ache hadn't left his muscles yet, and as he rolled the coin again he could feel his fingers straining to keep up. \n\nHe reached into his bag and pulled out a dagger and twirled it. \"I have a blade, but the only thing I'm missing is a target.\" He said softly, before looking at Vik. \n\n\"Forgot I had it until just then. Pays to be a pirate.\" He said with a grin."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nAmusement bloomed on her face as she watched the tall men struggle, shocked by her statement when someone interjected in their conversation. Speaking of prostitutes... The woman did apparently nothing to hide her intentions, in a way that made her, in Calypso's opinion, look rather sleazy and desperate. But the Themerre lady kept her amused smile fixed on her face, a seemingly judgment-free expression, something that the other woman didn't even attempt to do, or was incapable of as she sent a cutting glare at Calypso with her pretty eyes. Was it just islander's culture to keep their feelings on their sleeves? \n\nCalypso didn't move when the woman ( she didn't even introduce herself, how rude.) started to drag a confused and defeated Bastian towards the dance floor. Not a huge loss honestly, since she and the Young lord were having quite the discussion, she really would not have intervened... If it wasn't for that smirk. That little detail didn't exactly sit right in Calypso's chest. Someone needed to be reminded of their place, when suddenly she noticed how conveniently long was the train of the woman's dress. \n\nCalypso turned her back to the couple waiting till the last moment and then stabbed her heel in the fabric. \nThe temmerre woman didn't even need to turn around to know what the outcome was, a girlish yelp, followed by crushing glass and many gasps assuring her the success in her attempt. She swiftly disappeared between the crowd, and reappeared, like an elegant shadow, right beside Bastian, gently gripping his arm and pulling him away before he could lean down and help the girl. She was covered in dark red wine from the glasses she had hit when falling. Undoubtedly it was going to be a pain to clean. Calypso looked down at the other woman the same way a cat would look at a dead bug: Bored and unimpressed. \"Careful where you walk dear...\" Murmured Calypso at the tear-stained face of the woman as she pulled Bastian to a safe distance. Walking away, like she had not a single worry or fault.\n\n\nAmusement pouring out of her \"I think my debt is repaid. \" Said her, not attempt to hide how pleased with herself she was. The Lady let go of Bastian's arm only once they were far enough from the commotion, sipping gracefully from her cristal glass. \" Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find another dance partner pretty easily.\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nBastien's mind whirled to try to keep up with the rapid events that occurred. The woman whose name he did not know grabbed his arm and pulled him to dance. Then he watched as she tripped over, crashed into an attendant, and sent both herself and the attendant sprawling to the floor.\n\nBefore he could even try to help the two, he felt another feminine arm grab hold of him and pull him in another direction. *'Another Islander woman?'* He wondered numbly as he turned to see. No. It was Calypso, looking like the cat who got the cream. Perhaps she thought it was funny what happened to that poor woman. He supposed it might seem amusing to others, but it wasn't particularly to him. Especially because the woman was crying. A pretty woman's tears always muddled Bastien's mind, and his thoughts were already fogged by liquor.\n\nAfter a few moments the shock of the situation wore off on Bastien. He turned to Calypso. She sipped out of her glass delicately, her expression amused. His mind was elsewhere for the fast few seconds, and he hadn't heard the dry remarks she had made. All he knew was that she quickly stepped in and took him from the grasp of another woman, then looked very satisfied with herself after doing so. It confused him. *She* Confused him.\n\n\"Do you like me?\" He heard himself asking her as he stared down at her with a perplexed expression. His cheeks were still a bit flushed, and his head tilted slightly to the side as he studied her. \"Or don't you? At this point I honestly cannot say I know.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nCalypso nearly choked, somehow managing to not simply spit the small sip of alcohol on her feet. The question came out of absolutely nowhere. She looked up at Bastian with wide eyes, as if he had grown another head. \"What?\" Spat her wiping her lower lip as lady-like as possible. \n\nShe looked at the man up and down, she had the suspicion that Bastien might be tipsy but now she wondered if he wasn't outright drunk. \nShe considered her options for a second. \"I don't see how my feelings towards you are of any relevance \" Answered with a small wicked smile that grows slowly on her lips. \"Let's say that I don't have hard feelings towards you.\" And took another small sip, the glass never seeming to even slightly empty. \"But I believe there is still plenty of time for me to decide.\" Teased her with a chuckle, shaking her head graciously, dark curls bouncing in the air.\n\n\"Do you like me?\" Asked her straightforward, a dark eyebrow arced on her forehead \"Is only fair for me to know as well... Although I have the feeling that I might already know the answer...\" Spoke her enigmatic, looking at him from under her dark lashes"
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nThe quiet chuckle that passed Bastien's lips as Calypso's impish smile was hard to hear at first, but as she returned the question and fluttered her eyelashes at him, the deep laugh became more audible as he raised a hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle it. He found it quite funny, her elusive and vague response to his extremely direct question. And then she turned the question back around, all the while purposefully looking so feminine and charming. And she went so far as to say she believed she knew the answer. Even when drunk, Bastien still had a good deal of his wits about him. He knew Calypso, and he knew that she was an opportunist. She wanted to see what he would do.\n\n\"Ohh, that was good,\" He said as he finally toned down his laughter, wiping a teary eye with a ringed finger. \"Ahh, I haven't laughed like that in quite a while. You never change, do you, Calypso?\" The way he said her first name was not the normal, drawn out way he usually said it. This time, it was almost as if it came naturally to him. After a few more deep chuckles before he cleared his throat. He willed himself not to laugh again, but the entertained smile remained on his lips as he offered her his hand. \"Dare I ask if you like me enough to dance with me? Or do you still hate me because of the exquisite and expensive, though admittedly... *Exotically* Cut, dress I bought you?\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nWell... That was not the reaction she had expected. For a moment, Calypso's mind traveled back in time, thinking about all the interactions she and her employer had exchanged in the past month. And as she had suspected, not once she had seen Bastian laugh. Maybe smirk, letting out a breathy chuckle at best. But never had she seen an actual smile on his lips. A contagious one too, as she found herself snicker along, shaking her head. \n\nThe invitation to dance was actually something she had predicted, it was probably the reason Bastian had approached her in the first place, although maybe not phrased like that. Another time, Calypso would have snapped back, or refused... But that smile stretched on usually frowning lips... Something in her wishes to see more of it. Dark eyes squinted playfully at the tall man \"You are getting a little too comfortable with compliments my lord.\" Her voice lacking any bite or bitterness as she let her hand rest on his. \"But Hate is a strong word, at least you and many others agree on the fact that it suits me. '' which, admittedly, did stroke her ego... Just a bit. \" And I suppose that a dance is the least I can offer as my gift to the winner of The Tournament, oh noble Raven.\" Mocked her, giving his larger hand a little squeeze. \n\nShe let him guide her towards the dance floor \"Other than my protection against the far too willing young ladies that seem to never chase to surround you like bees around a flower. \" A light giggle dancing on her lips as she spotted the many glares from the so-called Bees."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nPeraz caught sight of Samsom going off with the king's Azaryan... Pet? She knew of her brother's struggle with his identity growing up and she feared a talk with that man might set his head spinning once more. Internally, she prayed for her brother's strength in mind. She had met precious few Azaryans but she knew they could be a tricksy people.\n\nHer mind was brought back to the present conversation with the introduction of the young De Lysse girl. Peraz smiled at her and bowed her head, the pearl chains of her kemenike clinking together as she did.\n\n\"A pleasure to meet you, Lady De Lysse. My lord-brother is tired from travel, I do hope you forgive his unfortunate disposition.\" She said to the young girl. The lady saw a lot of Bastien in his sister.\n\nPeraz found her fingers fiddling with a thread of undone embroidery under the table as she contemplated her brother and Cyprien's talk of reinforcements.\n\n\"Brother, perhaps sending some small amounts of reinforcements could not hurt? If only to bring some ease to De Lysse's anxiety?\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "A Few Dwyer Men in a Row Boat\nOff the Coast of Tardide\n\nGoodine-Wallaice picked at his teeth with his pinky nail, watching as another raven was loosed from the clearing on the far side of the island. Scouts had reported that a group of Northerners had set up camp on the side of the island. Molly sat across from him, cranking his instrument and clicking the keys to create a somber, salty tune. \n\n\"Would you be quiet?\" He said, narrowing his eyes as the black bird stood out against the bright white sky. \"They'll 'ear us.\" \n\n\"No,\" Molly said, curtly. \"Music 'elps the boy relax, be_sides_ you 'ear 'em singin'? It's not exactly a _secret_ 'ideout, issit? The Fat Lord 'ad reports of it, but 'e dismissed it as folly. But then they started trading with the forest clans and landlovers. Reports came in then, too. That's why we're 'ere, to see if they're a fhreat. Now look...\"\n\nAs if by reflex the boy, a skinny Janai named Pail, notched and fired a a pale cedar arrow, sinking deep into the breast of the bird. It squawked loudly and burst into a puff of inky feathers before falling to the water. \n\n\"Good job, lad.\" Molly said, reaching into his pouch to grab an orange. He tossed it over to the boy, who snatched it out of the air with one hand and began to unpeel it. \n\nMolly set the hurdy gurdy on the ground beneath his seat and took up the oars, bobbing across the waves to collect it. When he plucked it from the brine, it was dripping pink water. Goodwine Grasped for the bird, squeezing it in a scarred brown hand, before unrolling the parchment attached to it's skinny black leg.\n\n\"But everyone's already _seen_ them.\" Goodwine rasped, annoyed. \"And they do is sing, and pound together log cabins, send incomprehensible Northern...\" The seadog's eyes scanned over the writing and rolled his eyes, \"Gah!\" He shouted, crumpling the letter up into a ball and tossing it across the rowboat.\n\nIt looked like the rest, and he was illiterate besides.\n\nBut before it could reach Molly, a skinny arm snatched the ball from the air, unrolling it in the same way he did the orange.\n\n\"It's in Common,\" Pail said."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion```\n\n\"With all due respect my lady, I do not believe 'some' reinforcements will be enough. De Burgh's has amassed an army that surpasses in number that of two thirds of Terresol combined. The forces of House Lane cannot hope to stop them, let alone our own. Even if you were to lend every single soldier at the service of House Dumagne, we'd still be at a disadvantage.\"\n\nCyprien kept his gaze fixed on Peraz. Lutur might take offense, but necessity forced him to appeal to the Dragon of Falsa.\n\n\"We need to call the Archons. The northern tyrant is not mustering for a mere raid or invasion. He's preparing for conquest. If he triumphs here, it won't make a difference who sits on the Throne of Terresol.\"\n\nCyprien paused.\n\n\"I do not ask to leave your lands undefended. All I ask of you is to send enough troops to prompt the other Archonates to do the same... More than half, perhaps. We need to muster as a nation, not as coalition of Houses.\""
},
{
"author": "do_69420",
"message": "Striðsfaæddur encampment\n\nIt was late. The civillian half of the clans had gone to sleep and the air was as quiet as you could getnin the tropics. The warriors, however... Many were still awake. They were anxious, Dagstygg Jarl suddenly threw the announcement upon them that the wise woman had visions of war fast approaching. Some where eager to begin the bloodshed, other were less enthuseastic. A small group of Berserkir were somewhat in sight, eating something. What that may be was uncertain, but they were eating from a hollowed out bear skull. These men were positively strange, they were clean, but strangely unshaven. They wore bear pelts, and had missing teeth in a few cases. The shields they sat with bore bite marks around the edges. They could be heard speaking amoungst themselves in their strange native tongue.\n\n\"Jarlinn trúir því að stríð sé yfir okkur. Eða meira, Völva gerir þa.\"\n\n\"Myndir þú telja þig tilbúinn?\"\n\n\"Kallar þú mig hugleysingja?\"\n\n\n\nDo you consider yourself ready?\n\n\n\n*The two men both stop and stare at eachother with a piercing gaze as if about to spill blood, before suddenly beginning to laugh*"
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Few Dwyer Men in the Rowboat\nOff the Coast of Tardide\n\nUnder the cover of darkness, the three men sail out further into sea.\n\n\"If they're sending everything away on ships, can't we just burn 'em?\" Molly said.\n\nGoodwine Wallace shrugged, \"Someone should.\""
},
{
"author": "do_69420",
"message": "*The third Berserkir seemed less impressed, an expression crossed his face as he gripped his axe. He grabbed the two other warriors and launched himself onto his feet. Splash... Splash... Splash...*\n\n\"Þögn, fífl! Heyrirðu það?...\"\n\n\n\"Örur?\"\n\n\n*The three suddenly remembered not a single Drakkar ship has left yet. There should be no oarsmen at work. \n\nThe totem warriors rushed from the woodland out towards the shore. They tie a small cloth around an arrow and light it ablaze, launching it in the direction of the noise... Briefly illuminating the row boat.\n\nOne of the Berserkir pull out a Gjallarhorn and blow into it, the war horn rattling through the men at sea*"
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzer Market, Tonate Proper\n\n\"How did I help your bones heal? How did I travel to Tonate from Terresol in a day? *Magic*, my dear boy.\" Vik finished his stew, placing his spoon down on one side before letting out a quiet burp.\n\n\"In fact, I could find these men quite easily, however there is a price.\" The immortal words flowed out automatically.\n\n\"It's a rule I can't defy, unfortunately. In order to find these men, it will cost you a year of your life.\" He stopped talking completely after that, not even giggling, wanting the news to sink in fully for Arin."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\n\"Me? Comfortable?\" Bastien was pleased to see that she was no longer irritated at him. He didn't know if laughing at her antics would make her more angry with him, but it seemed to have made her mood lighten. \"You forget to whom you speak, Lady Kolgrim.\" In fact, Bastien did seem a good deal comfortable, much more so than he did when he was sullen and sober.\n\nThe music in the Isles was different than it was in the North, but Bastien didn't take much notice of it. As little as he was seen dancing at balls or other events (much less attending them), his steps were light and elegant as he began to lead the waltz. He then seemed to register her comment about the women, and the faint smile on his face turned into a forced one showing irritation. \"It's not new, I'm afraid,\" He told her as he glanced around. Women were watching him from every angle, it seemed. Eyes and eyes and eyes and more eyes. Alert and waiting. Oh, how he hated the eyes. He felt a cold chill run down his back, and turned back to Calypso. \"Though the 'buzzing' of said bees seems to be greatly amplified at the moment.\"\n\nHe stared down at her and noticed that her dress was rather revealing from this angle. His eyes trailed away from her, as if he was trying not to draw attention to his subconscious staring, as he asked, \"I've been curious to know this, but for some reason I haven't asked you: Where do you want yourself to be in the future?\" He looked back at her, this time at her face. \"I'm aware you don't want to be my sister's lady-in-waiting for the rest of your life, nor should you. But I feel that you have a goal in mind. I know you're a woman with big aspirations.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\n\nIt didn't take long for them to fall into the rhythm of the music, as both of them seemed quite experienced, Calypso movements, at least, were for sure. Her mother had made sure that the social life of her only daughter was full of events and balls, making it in her best efforts to make sure that Calypso would be accepted in the higher circles. Now that she thought about it, Calypso had Never seen Bastian in Sol, not even when she was younger. \n\nThe lady opened her mouth wanting to ask about it, where the elusive young lord had been hiding during their youth? But Bastien beat her to it, expressing his own curiosity towards her. But where calypso was curious about his past, Bastian wanted to know about her future, her aspirations. Not many had asked her this. \n\nShe chuckled, playing off her surprise \"Is that so?\" Playfulness ringing in her voice \"What gave me away? The fact that I offered you blackmailing materials when first met, or was it my attempt to get in the king's grace with my gifts?\" She was still a bit upset that he had not been present to see it, wondering what his reaction might have been. \"I don't think your father will ever forgive me that one.\" Laughed her remembering the offending face on the lord's face, serves him right for calling her a maid.\n\n\"My goal...\" Murmured her, looking up at the sky as if thinking about it \"I want to secure myself a place in life and society. Put the Kolgrim name back on its feet and do it with my own hands. \" There was a firmer undertone in her voice now. \n\nA sigh escaped her lips. \" After my father's death, The natural course of action would have been to marry rich, to secure myself a good life.\" Her eyes dropped down between them for a moment \" But that would leave me with the eternal handicap of a husband and the duty to give him children... Which doesn't excite me.\" She groaned the last words \"I like my independence too much...\" \n\nShe looked up at him with a smile, a gentle one, absent of the usual sharpness that decorated her features \"I suppose I have to thank you for having saved me from such fate. \" It was hard to admit but she owed the man a lot more than just the money for the dress."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nCalypso's slender fingers moved slightly in his hand as they danced, the music in the background growing a bit dim as Bastien focused on what she was saying. Her hand, he had noticed immediately, was pleasantly warm in his. He usually had cold hands.\n\nAn amused exhale escaped him at the reminder of her offer of blackmail, and he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face after she mentioned giving the Pirate King her gifts. He hadn't been there to witness it, so he was unsure as to why she would be disappointed over such a well-received offering. He heard her thanks, but didn't acknowledge it with words. He only gave her a small smile. He knew that he hadn't saved her from such a fate: she was more than capable of saving herself.\n\n\"Ah yes, the defect of marriage,\" He said with a sigh. \"It seems to be troublesome for both parties involved. The man is pressured to have an heir, and the woman is pressured to give him one.\" He thought for a moment as they turned in their waltz. \"However, I do agree a woman does have more expectations put on her from societal pressure, to find a husband. And normally, she doesn't have much say in the matter.\" A dry chuckle passed his lips as he smiled at her with little humor. \"My father both wants me to wed while simultaneously not believing anyone to be a suitable match.\"\n\nHe lowered his voice and stepped slightly closer to her, as if he was disclosing a secret. \"Not that he could ever make me marry, in the event he somehow did find a woman he deemed worthy. I'm set on being a bachelor for the rest of my life, thank you.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nCalypso couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth curl up in a smile, Her chuckle was light, and laced with a hum of amusement at the matter. \"Who knows, maybe your father is having a hard time finding someone, not so much as worth it, but who would actually be capable of tolerating your presence for more than an hour!\" Commented her but the little jab lacked any venom. \"I don't know if you realized that my lord but you aren't the easiest person to get along with .\" Inquired her with a quirk of her eyebrows. \n\nThe newfound closeness didn't bother her as much as it might have had some time ago, She had learned by now that the young lord was far from being a threat. Actually, she leaned forward as well, mischief dancing in her eyes \" Is that why I have never seen you in Sol during my youth?\" Asked her, finally voicing her curiosity, murmuring her words as if they were exchanging some important secret \"Was your father hiding you away in fear that some lovely bright-eyed lady might steal you away?\" The suggestion didn't sound too crazy.\n\nShe remembered, back in her forming years, how the De Lysse name was on the mouth of everyone. At each large event, her mother would excitedly ask her father Lord Kolgrim if the famous family would be present. To which, every time, he would simply shrug and say \"We will see.\" But if they did appear, The Heir of the house was always absent, to the Point that Calypso had started wondering if he was even real. And now, she was dancing with him in the Southern Isles. Oh, how proud her mother would be."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nAn eyebrow rose at her jab at his personality. *'You seem to enjoy yourself when you're around me,'* He wanted to dryly remark. But he kept that comment to himself, and instead replied with a flat, though rather agreeable, \"Damn.\" He squeezed her hands as he gave her a slight squint with no real malice. \"And you say *I'm* The one getting too comfortable.\"\n\nHis gaze changed as he heard her murmured question, seeing the interest in her eyes. He was quiet for a few moments as they continued to waltz, studying her. Was it for the gossip of knowing where he was, or was it due to a genuine curiosity of his childhood? He couldn't tell. With a shrug of the shoulders and a faint smile, he replied in a nonchalant manner, \"Perhaps.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nAnother laugh danced out of her red lips at the little comment, feeling her hand getting lightly squeezed in his, between those cold fingers, helped bring her back \"I'm just trying to have a good time my lord and you still have to reprimand me about my attitude but have no worry you are never too late!\" Chuckled her following his steps, matching his speed with every twist. *\" Back straight and chin up.\"* She heard the voice of her mother in her head correcting her posture, making sure that her daughter could look effortlessly elegant.\n\n \"Although if my way of talking is bothering you, I can try to keep my voice for myself and let you enjoy how the... How was it that you described it.\" Her eyes wandered for a moment pondering on how to best express it \"Ah yes the exotic and expensive, though admittedly exquisitely cut of my dress decorates me.\" A smug smile creeping up on her lips. \n\nAnd for a long moment, it seemed like she was actually going to do it. Shut her mouth and let the conversation die. Like when she had stepped away, at the market, when Bastian had insinuated that she enjoyed their exchange of brief physical touch. Only to see his face crumble when she distanced from him. It was a cruel little game but it amused her to see the young man being so transparent about his feelings. \n\n\"My father would do the same thing.\" Her eyes did not meet Those of Bastien this time, staring at an empty spot in space \" Whenever he had something he wanted to conceal but not deny he would simply shrug \" And raised his shoulders imitating the movement \" And said something diplomatic like Perhaps or We will see. \" Chuckled her, despite everything the thought of the man still brought fondness to her. \"So maybe your father didn't lock you away... Does that mean that you actively choose to isolate yourself?\" Asked her with a quirk of an eyebrow.\n\nThe temerre lady's mind provided her with the image of a younger Bastian, wandering in the cold, stone corridors of the Keep, bearing that usual bored and unimpressed expression. \"Was the idea of meeting other people outside of your family so painful to you?\" Teased her, she highly doubted that the answer would be yes."
},
{
"author": "definitelyaworm",
"message": "Fleur De Lysse\nThe Maith Mansion\n\nFleur sucked in a breath, jaw clenching in the presence of the unpleasant man. It felt as if her blood had began to boil, her face growing hotter as the anger welled. Fleur didn't really know the importance of the man, but it hadn't mattered much to her at that moment either. Someone's importance does not warrant a nasty disposition, Fleur had learned early on from her books. Those who were callous and cold to their people often ended up hated or alone. It made Fleur wonder if the boy was either. \n\nThe only thing that allowed herself to simmer was the calm voice of the other woman as she was addressed. Fleur let out a held in breath, jaw softening as her features did. Though, it was short lived, as the man continued to insult her family. \n\n\"Do you like to read, Lady Peraz? I enjoy it very much. Bastien always brings me back a new book from his travels, I basically have my own library at the keep. A lot of them have some really great leaders, who are exceptionally kind as well as strong. The ones who are not don't seem to fare very well, I'm afraid.\" \n\nFleur's eyes shifted momentarily towards the cold man. Although it wasn't quite an insult, more of the child expressing her thoughts in a way that wouldn't get her as harshly scolded from her father. She, of course, was trying to avoid any tantrum or problem to cause her father to not want to bring her away from the keep again.\n\nAs Lutur had told Lady Peraz to go away, Fleur quietly and politely excused herself away from her father, moving to instead go to find Bastien or Calypso to express her boiling discontent, in an attempt to calm herself down. Perhaps she would be able to speak to Lady Peraz again later on. Fleur thought she was quite pretty."
}
] | 350.5 | 6,465 |
387.5 | 2021-08-04 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "do_69420",
"message": "Somewhere in the southern isles\n\n*Day would wash the islands in orange light, and drifting through the seas was the remains of an unfortunate rowboat. The current carried it an island over from where it had departed from.\n\nThe boat was lined with arrows from bow to stern like an acupuncture job. There had to have been two-to-three hundred arrows in the hull and its inhabitants, the boat showed evidence of being on fire as well. \n\nBack on the island, the Ismodri had moved on. The jungle had already begun swallowing up former building sites, if only slightly. The force had moved in the night, carried rapidly by their sharp and shallow hulled Drakkar, at around 15 knots. They could be anywhere in the sea by now.\n\nOne group of ships however had split off, three. A group of women stood at the bow of the largest ship and stared over the sea, they were headed back to Sol on the account of business.*"
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Pleasure Barge of Bradai Maith\n\nThe *Sixteen Rings* Was created to be a display of the power and wealth of House Maith, and in that it succeeded in every measure. A massive barge, built to carry whole precessions of nobility in comfort and luxury, it was fitted with everything it's guests could ask for at the expense of functionality, but that rarely concerned those who traveled on the *Sixteen Rings*. \nNow, the great barge was docked, like the bloated carcass of a great sea beast tied to the pier, only the largest of the waves that slapped the shore managing to force it's bulk to bob up and down in the slightest. The great beast had been beached, and now it would serve a new purpose. \nMoments ago, the barge had been filled with nobles, drinking and laughing at their own jests, dancing on the great deck that had been made with the wood of over a hundred of the strongest trees in the isles, and painted as black as night, with a great purple poppy at the center. The barge was like a great brick, so heavy and cumbersome one might think she would sink at any moment, but the *Sixteen Rings* Floated onwards, it's gold-trimmed rails sprayed with seawater whenever a strong wave crashed against the windward side. The deck could hold a dozen and a half tables, filled with all manner of delights, and still have ample room for a whole party of nobles to dance and make merry. The grand observatory that sat on the end of the ship could hold even more, if they were want to gaze at the stars, and the hold had room for a hundred feasts to be stored it seemed. \nYet where once perfumed nobles danced in striking colors, now sat armored warriors, the only colors being the standards they flew above their \"Camps\" And the livery on their armor.\n\nOver two dozen warriors sat around the edge of the deck, their squires and servants tending to them, or if they had none of those, then standing alone with their standard. Golden Dragons, black lions, and a whole menagerie's worth of animals decorated the flags, each one representing some noble house who thought they could produce a champion here. Few notable families competed, however, the true honor was found in the jousts, melees were for the lesser lords. Yet if one were to check the crowds, one might find those same nobles who spurned the melee watching from the sidelines, if only to ensure their bannermen presented themselves well, of course. \nThe grand observatory on the barge was now packed with trays of food, a humble feast compared to the majesty of the manor house, only seventeen plates of roasted fowl, and a mere dozen separate dishes of fish from the isles, a poor selection to be sure, but one hoped it would be enough to hold over the spectators until the melee started. \nThe fighters themselves were a curious lot, second sons from great families and first sons from lesser houses, free riders in service to lords too old or too cowardly to fight themselves, and warriors sworn to no lord at all, seeking glory for themselves alone. Each one could feel the gaze upon them now, not just the looks from the lords staring above, but from their competitors. Each one sized the other up, wondering who would be the first to fall, and who would be the biggest threat. The weapons might have been blunted, but the combatants were all on edge. Death was not unheard of in melees, no matter what precautions were taken, one could not prevent accidents, or impede malice. Yet every contestant still donned their armor and took up their blade the same. All craved the glory of victory, yet only one could walk away the champion."
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva's hand reflexively twitched as she laid it over Catarina's. Even after all those years, the feeling of skin-to-skin contact with her scars still sent a tingling sensation up her arm. She watched Cat gently run her finger down her palm, analyzing the ridges and creases that would ostensibly determine her future.\n\nAs Catarina concluded telling her fortune, Alva mentally kicked herself for believing it, even a little. It seemed more like advice to her than a fortune, albeit a very well spoken one.\n\nShe paused to remind herself that it was only a party trick and she was being too critical before replying, \"Seeking after something? I wonder what that could be... Maybe I'll find out today.\" \n\nAlva smiled and the moment the words left her mouth, realization suddenly hit. Her mother's cure. If she were to heed Catarina's advice, at the very least her mother's fate was in her own hands, and not in those of some otherworldly deity. Although she was still skeptically inclined towards Catarina's \"Abilities\", it was strangely comforting.\n\nShe retracted her hand and took a sip of the drink Catarina had slid to her. She set the glass down and asked, \"Now, enough about me. You mentioned you were a guest of a guest. Who are you with, if you don't mind my asking? I hope I'm not interrupting anything.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion``` \n\nThe lord remained quiet. He still bore the same mask of politeness, but his expression had turned cold and rigid. He waited until Peraz and his daughter had left before adressing Lutur again. \n\n\"Sire, with all due respect, you are not the only person to whom I owe my allegiance to. I still have to answer to my House, and to the kingdom of Terresol. An Exarch's duty is to ward the frontier of our land and assure it's security. Now, a threat to that security has emerged. You seemed unwilling to take this threat for what it was, so I relayed it's importance to someone who did, as it is demanded of me... Sire.\" \n\nCyprien paused and raised his chin ever so slightly. His eyes fixed on his Lutur, the reddish tint of his irises subdued by the ambient light. \n\n\"I will reprimand Bastien for his... Offense,\" Promised the lord, unsure of if he would actually do it. \"Now, I believe you mentionned an urgent conversation for _men of import_, Sire?\""
}
] | 277 | 1,550 |
756.2 | 2021-08-05 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "|Fabian Ambrose|\n|Bradai Maiths Barge - *Sixteen Rings*|\n\nFabian, dressed in more formal dress, or at least as much as he could account for \"Formal\", had isolated himself from most of the other competitors. He leaned on the \"Edge\" Of the barge, looking over the water in a contemplative stupor, his wrists crossing each other as the inner forearm leaned against the barrier between deck and the sea. He was having second guesses now, perhaps he shouldn't have come to such an event in hopes of winning a sliver of prestige, not to mention he had come with the expectation to yield to any lord he faced, but if he faced one right off the bat what would he do? Give up and waste this entire trip? Or fight and possibly ruin everything. Then again he had no choice, the trickle of jobs he had been living off of had dried up, and the only one way to reignite the spark was by making sure there was enough tinder for a fire to flourish.\n\nHe looked around him, taking his eyes from the sea and examining the people he would fight, possibly die or kill. Some might be jovial, some sombre, he simply found it- calming. Like the stillness of the water before a storm."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nSixteen Rings, The Mizzen\n\n\nVarn had served house Chapoisson for four years now, he'd thought he'd seen all manner of nobles and lavish parties, but he'd never seen anything like this. This truly was a ball fit for a king, filled with nobles from all over the world, or so it seemed. It was so forgien to him that he'd been unable to move when they first stepped off the boat, but a glance from Carac had gotten his feet working again.\nThe joust and the afterparty had both been overwhelming, even the servants ate well here, he'd tasted some sort of meat that had more flavor than anything he'd ever eaten before. It was like stepping into another world, like those stories his nan had told him about little boys who were taken away to the magical realm of the fairies. But now he was back in his world, sitting beneath the banner of house Chapoisson, a yellow catfish on a blue field, preparing Carac the Butcher for his bloody work. \nCarac wasn't a knight, as far as Varn knew, but there was a joke in the barracks that Varn was his squire, and there was some truth to that. Varn readied his horse, sharpened his blade, and helped with his armor, he didn't know if anyone besides knights could have squires, but if they could he thought he more than qualified. Though the real service that Varn rendered to Carac was to be his voice. Carac rarely spoke, he'd never spoken to the men, and he certainly had never spoken to Varn, so Varn spoke for him. Not like how one does for a king, he never read any edicts, but when Varn spoke, Carac nodded, or sometimes shook his head, and that worked well enough. Right now though, Varn had little speaking to do.\n\nCarac sat atop a wood crate, checking his gauntlets and making sure the straps were tight, a few of the other lads were checking his breastplate and mail, and Varn looked over his weapons. Carac normally fought with a great two-handed blade, but for the melee he had chosen something completely different. A large mace lay in Varn's lap, heavy enough he struggled to lift it with one hand. It was a simple weapon, far from the decorated swords with gold hilts that knights so loved. It was nothing more than a rod of iron with a leather wrapping for a grip, and a steel ball affixed at the top, an ugly, grey thing that was made for crushing armor and bone. Carac would carry that in one hand, and an iron shield in the other. Varn was in the process of polishing the shield when a man in gilded armor strode over to the group.\n\n\"Ho there friend!\" The man spoke in a voice that Varn recognised right away as that of a noble. Nobles had a way of speaking, a sickeningly sweet voice that stunk of plots and schemes, like a knife in the back and a kiss on the cheek all at once. The man sounded like he was from Feyshore, or maybe Astoria, Varn couldn't tell. He wore lighter plate than Carac, though it probably cost more by a half. It was colored gold, with designs of roaring lions carved into the very metal, whoever had crafted it had been good at their work. Whoever made the man inside the armor, however, could have used a little of that talent, the man had a rat's eyes and a pig's nose, his black hair was receding, yet he looked to be a youth still, and his lips were pale and plump, uncomfortably so. Varn turned away, but it was clearly not his attention the man was after. Carac always wore his helm, and while it didn't seem to interfere with his hearing, he often used it as an excuse to ignore others, however this man was clearly not going to be ignored, and so Carac turned his head towards the man, and waited for him to speak. \n\nHowever, the first to speak was not the stranger, but Turg, one of the lads helping with Carac's plate. \n\"What'dya want?\" \nThe man was taken aback, it seemed. Men like him were not used to being questioned in such a manner, but to his credit, he recovered well. \"Merely to speak with my honorable competition of course.\"\n\"I think they're somewhere over that'a ways.\" Varn chuckled, jabbing a thumb to his right. That got a laugh from the boys, even Carac seemed to approve in his own way.\n\n\"I'm not here to speak to *You*\" The man said, his eyebrows slanting downwards like two dark caterpillars stuck to his forehead. He turned back to Carac, and once more he was all smiles and courtesies. \"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sir Wesel of Korkou.\" Terresol then, Varn had been way off. \"Sir\" Wesel paused for a moment, waiting for Carac to introduce himself, frowned, and then went on talking, apparently not put off by the lack of response. \n\"I saw you in the king's box during the joust, yes? Perhaps you noticed a certain dark haired beauty seated close by? Lady Calypso, the greatest beauty of Terresol, and if the gods will it, my intended.\"\n\nCarac still didn't speak, but Varn did. \n\"Mate, this isn't a tavern, if you wanna speak yer woes, go somewhere else.\" The other men nodded, and Carac looked over at him, then back at Wesel, waiting to hear the response. \n\n\"Do you always let your servants speak this way?\" Wesel spat, his eyes darkening, he clearly didn't take well to being told off or dismissed. \"Well?!\" He demanded when Carac didn't respond. \n\"Better men than you have failed to get a word out of him.\" Varn said curtly, standing up and walking to Carac's side. \"If you got business, speak it, if not...\" He shrugged. \n\nSir Wesel grimaced, but turned back to Carac, apparently addressing a commoner was beneath him. \"Sir, if I am to properly propose to a lady such as Calypso, I must have some martial honors to boast of. Winning a melee like this would allow me to ask for her hand with pride.\" \n\n\"Best of luck to ya then.\" Varn interrupted, earning him a contemptuous glare from Wesel. \n\n\"You misunderstand, I *Must* Win this melee. Perhaps you could... Assist me in some way? If we were to meet on the field, well sometimes the most unlikely contender proves victorious, eh?\" \nFrom his belt, Wesel produced a weighty brown sack that jingled with that music that every sellsword knows well. Varn almost laughed, the man intended to buy his way to victory in the melee. Did he plan on bribing every one of his competitors, or just the most threatening ones? It was absurd, but he had to applaud him for knowing he had no hope of taking Carac in a fight.\n\"Hah! Mate if you think-\"\n\nHis speech was interrupted by Carac himself. He put a hand on Varn's shoulder and stood up to his full height. He towered over Wesel by more than a head, like a giant looking down on a particularly annoying ant. Wesel took a step back, the gold still held in an outstretched hand. Varn didn't notice he was holding his breath until Carac snatched the bag out of Wesel's hand, sat back down, and nodded to the man. Wesel breathed what appeared to be a sigh of relief. \n\"Many Thanks, good sir.\" He bowed slightly, before walking back to his standard, where half a dozen and one squires and servants waited to attend him. \n\nVarn turned to Carac, dumbfounded. \"What was that?\" He had known Carac to be many things, but taking a dive in a fight? Never, Carac was all about reputation, his legend, that was what men like him lived for. If he lost to some snot like \"Sir\" Wesel, the Legend of the Butcher would be worth less than a steamy shit. \nThen, Carac laughed. It was a short, deep, scratchy laugh, almost like a cough, but it was a laugh, Varn knew it. And then he laughed, and the rest of the lads, until they were all doubled over around Carac like it was the funniest thing in the whole damn world. Carac picked up his mace, weighed it in his hands, then looked towards where sir Wendel stood under his lion banner. He didn't say anything, but Varn didn't need to speak for him, everyone knew what he would say. \nVarn wondered what Sir Wendel's pretty little brains would look like splattered over the deck of the *Sixteen Rings*"
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nA wry smile appeared on Bastien's face at her last remark. \"My, my. How boldly inquisitive we are this evening.\" He opened his mouth to follow with a dry remark before he closed it. The constant socialization he had been forced to endure had tired him, and the alcohol made him not particularly feel up to continuously sparring witty comments with Calypso.\n\nHis childhood. The music softened as he tried to collect the long forgotten bits and pieces scattered throughout his mind. His pleasant expression faded to one of faint, reminiscent sadness. A small bittersweet smile crossed his face as he looked in Calypso's direction, not staring at her but through her, at something that played in his mind. \"A long time ago when I was a small boy, I used to be quite gregarious. Curious and sweet, fond of attention and playing with other children. I've been told that I was very happy, for a short while.\"\n\nMemories of that time were scarce, few and far between. He blinked a few times, and it seemed as though he was pulled from his mind back to the present. His bittersweet smile faded, but there was a look of distant sadness that lingered in his eyes. \"But things changed. And so did I.\""
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Ser Katholou of Clan Drase**\n__Bradai's Barge, Sixteen Rings__\n\nKatholou Of Clan Drase approached the other combatants followed by his many companions, some of which were actual members of Bradai's Shield who either had been assigned to protecting the leader of the Drase House or simply currently had taken a leave from their work and decided to spend those few days of vacation following their proud superior in whatever task he may choose to undertake. Today that task is nothing more and nothing less than The Melee, a competition that is as spat upon by nobles as it is dangerous for those who participate, causing the organisers to often be forced to take matters into their own hands and hire commoners and mercenaries in order to fill in the gaps of those who do not present themselves and give the much more numerous (and noble) spectators an interesting fight to watch. \n\n\"Truly a marvel this ship is eh?\"\n\nA voice coming from behind Bradai's First Guard suddenly said \n\n\"But i do wonder why the great lord Katholou, Leader of Clan Drase, even bothers to come to watch such a pitiful display of melee combat\"\n\nKatholou recognised the person speaking long before actually fixing his careful gaze upon him. He always had a thing for remembering every tiny detail of those that he appreciated and someone's voice was no exception. You never know when your survival may depend on recognising someone with a fraction of a glance after all.\n\n\"Well if it isn't the old guard himself! I was wondering you old weezer would pop up\"\n\nHe said with a laugh. He then turned towards hie entourage \n\n\"For you fresh meat this is Arjal Forms, the first ever bodyguard to serve under Bradai. He is also probably the only ever soldier to have never killed anyone... For lack of trying of course\"\n\nHe laughed again, followed by his companions and Arjal himself\n\n\"Ah you cunt, always leaving out the important part of the story and making me look like some warm hearted wench\" \n\nHe answered, buying himself a miriad of intrigued and confused looks by the younger members and a few chuckles from the veterans.\n\n\"Always have and always will.\"\n\nKatholou answered before turning serious all of a sudden\n\n\"And to answer your question... I am here purely for work purposes. Figured i'd take this chance to fully establish my role. What better way to show these young halfwits what messing with Our Lord looks like than to break some necks in a melee right?\"\n\nHe said without even the subtlest hint of a smile. He wasn't joking. He never joked when he was talking about His Lord. For him that argument was as sacred as the holiest of relics and anyone who so much as conversed with him for a few minutes knew better than to treat it any other way in his presence. \nThe older man looked surprised\n\n\"Wait you dont intend to participate in person right?\"\n\n\"I never speak without reason, old man. Many others do that enough already\"\n\nHe added before turning around and heading towards his post, followed by his companions leaving the previous leader of the bodyguards behind to ponder on those words. Confidently he got into position, passing the flag of Clan Drase, depicting a white peacock on a green background, to his second in command, a massive man named Godswill whomst many believe had traded his hair for his strength in a trade with an evil spirit, many years ago. Then he began to prepare, eagerly heeded by the others. Once the armour was on, it was time to pick the weapons. It was an important choice, that could very well define if he would end up succeeding or dead. Pointless to say that he eagerly sought out the first option. Suggestions began to rain down from the men surrounding him and despite there being not that many options everyone still managed to have a different opinion on the matter\n\n\"Take the flail. Swing that around a few times and half of the lot will just give up before even being touched by anything\"\n\nA young member from Clan Drase yelled out, eager to see the famous Morning Star in action\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous. The objective is to show battle prowess not to scare away a bunch of inexperienced puppies who ventured too far away from their den\"\n\n\n\n\"Indeed. The best thing to do is to grab a classic gud ol' blunted blade and just smack those fools around a bit\"\n\nThis time a less identifiable man had talked, probably simply someone from the Clan who had joined up for fun and not for duty. Katholou smiled as the chaos ensued and shared a quick glance with Godswill. It was time to teach everyone a little lesson. Calmly the leader of the bodyguards walked towards the table and grabbed the first thing he could find, more specifically a heavy smithing hammer. He swung it at the air a few times \n\n\"Found it\"\n\nHe shouted simply, instantly ending the argument as everyone turned around to look at him in disbelief. Godswill chuckled and walked towards his boss, passing him the signature secondary weapon of Clan Drase, a massive tower shield painted with green and golden colours.\n\n\"Let's go and make an example shall we?\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nThe Temmerre lady fell silent, not for spite or tease. Just to listen. Dark eyes looking up, watching the light slightly dim from Bastian's expression. \nIt was honestly hard to imagine Bastian as a happy child. Every time she tired, instead of a joyful little boy, her mind showed her a miserable little kid. \n\nShe wondered where to go next, this was unexplored ground, maybe the alcohol had fogged up his mind and loosen up his tongue. In all honesty, she was feeling awkward \"I'm sorry to hear that...\" Muttered her. \n\n\"For what it's worth,\" Started her as the music started to come to an end \" Even though it is tragic the fact that you don't smile as much anymore, it only makes each of those occasions where you do, more special.\" Oh, gods that was such a sappy remark, it tasted sickly sweet on her tongue, but something told her that the Lord would appreciate it, and seeing how prone to emotions alcohol seemed to make him, maybe it was time to make the change and carve a little more into their relationship. \n\nLuxurious gowns were not the only thing that a good friendship with a high lord could get her."
}
] | 282 | 3,781 |
276.666667 | 2021-08-08 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "legatus1825",
"message": "Lord Mallsrek Skagerlly\nBradai's Barge, Sixteen Rings\n\nMallsrek led the way onto the barge, as he and his men arrived for the melee. It was easy for everyone else to pick them out as foreigners, their armour and pelts distinct within the crowd. However those were the least distinctive of their features, their skin was covered in scars, some fresh and others eons old. Nobody would have guessed that there was a lord in their midst. I mean unless you discerned the tone of authority that Mallsrek took.\n\nThe party boarded the barge, other combatants being brushed aside as Mallsrek sneered at all those surrounding him. They were nothing but little ants to him, ripe to squash when it came to it. When it came to it, killing them would be a pleasure rather than a chore. He marched over to a spot he liked and came to a halt as some nobodies had already set up their area. Motioning to his guards, they fanned out and began to clear this rabble away, before pitching the Skagerlly flag and cordoning the area off for their lord.\n\nMallsrek sat down as his equipment was brought onto the barge by more of his soldiers. His half brother would have been livid seeing how many of his hearthguard he had taken with him, but after all the atrocities he had committed, it would have been unwise to travel without them. Anyway, they were always a good laugh. They placed down intricate suits of armour and weapons, glinting evilly in the harsh sun. Looking out over the arena, his mouth salivated at the thought of all the deaths that were to come."
},
{
"author": "durkhan",
"message": "```\nQueen Anyanka Durkhan\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper \n```\n\nShe didn't particularly want her guard to burden his free hand with her shoes, in case she needed him to draw a weapon. So she shook her head, switching them to her free hand so he wouldn't be tempted to try and keep her from carrying them herself. \n\nShe listened, unable to stop herself from comparing Aleks to another quiet child who wanted to spend more time with books than swords. \"The ones parading in while we were leaving? Yes, I think I heard 'Skagerlly', but it's so hard to understand their accents.\" It had never occurred to her that Jax's Skagerlly was one of The Skagerlly, but she supposed it didn't matter much. Names could change so easily. \n\n\"Well, we're leaving now, he's grabbing Mikhail and will meet us at the ships. We can be gone before anyone even thinks to miss us.\""
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton\nMizzen Market\n\n\"Magic? If I resort to magic, is there any merit to my actions? Magic is of.. Dark creatures, evil, and dishonesty.\" Arin said, before looking at Tiny Vik. \n\n\"But you are not evil, or at least I do not believe you are. What evil being would devote their existence to help others. But you could be a trickster. A simple fiend who gets their amusement helping others only to take it all back. But that's not you, is it?\" He said, before looking at the coin in his hand. \n\n\"I'll leave this choice up to fate, destiny, whatever is true in the world. Chance, even.\" He said, before placing the coin on his thumb. He popped it up, flinging it up into the air with so much speed it almost seemed to trace through the air. As it landed around eye level, Arin snatched it out of the air. Before he opened his hand, he looked up at Vik. \n\n\"Face side up, I allow you to find them. Back, we find another way. It is all up to this very coin.\" He said, before flipping it into the back of his hand. Before he revealed the coin, he looked up at Vik and slowly moved his hand. \n\n*Heads.*"
}
] | 277 | 830 |
241.636364 | 2021-08-09 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nThe Mizzer Market, Tonate Proper\n\nVik couldn't help but giggle at the series of rhetorical questions, answering one anyways.\n\n\"I like to think I'm not. Some people think I am. I guess it's based off of your own opinions, like it should be.\" He went back to trying to roll his own coin as Arin pondered flipping his, looking away as he eventually tossed and caught it. \"Very well, let 'fate' decide.\"\n\nIt was heads. Vik wanted to smile at the odds, even though it was relatively low.\n\n\"Alright, let's find them.\" He hopped down from the seat and waddled over to Arin, taking his hand in his own smaller digits.\n\n\"I need you to focus on these men. Picture them as clearly as you can, or the destination will get blurry and vague, understand?\" He nodded to himself, before focusing on the spell.\n\nCaptain Jax Brightwater\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nThe trio began to descend to where the Astorian Carriages were parked, Jax could see the boots of the Eclipse rushing to stand at attention.\n\n\"Honestly, my dear, I was thankful you asked to leave. Even though Erik wanted to face me in the Melee, I had a nasty feeling about the party once the skull was brought out.\" He knew he was probably overreacting, his old disease rearing it's head to make him paranoid. Yet, on the other hand, he was supposed to be Paranoid, he had to protect the Durkhans, all three of them."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\n\"And what is it that you think I know?\" He countered as the next song began. It was slower than the last. \"Perhaps the man you see dancing with you isn't the same man that I do.\" He was fine with teasing her, as he knew she wouldn't actually go so far as to lick his boots simply because he told her. It was pleasant to hear her lighthearted jabs, to talk about meaningless things instead of the weight of reality. \"Empty flattery is one thing, but I do love sincere compliments. Not that I ever have the pleasure of hearing any.\" He glanced and saw eyes still facing him, Islanders and Mainlanders alike watching him. Damn.\n\nWhat else to talk about? Silence wasn't an option. Dancing in silence would feel too intimate. What that meant, Bastien did not know, nor did he want to think about.\n\n\"Are you a betting woman, Lady Kolgrim?\" He asked her. He continued before she had the chance to answer, \"No, of course you're not. True ladies do not engage in gambling, do they?\" The glimmer in his eyes said he knew otherwise. \"I'm curious to know how long you'd wager I'll last in this war. Where would you place your money? Years? Months? Or perhaps a few days?\" They twirled to the music. \"All of this hypothetically speaking, of course.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nThe next questions caught her slightly off guard and for a moment her smile faltered when the conversation shifted to the subject of war. She had not thought about it and almost forgot that he was set to take part in the battle. \"How long, you ask?\" Said her, smiling as vacant eyes moved over the flood of people laughing and dancing all around them. The music was gentle and slow now, giving Calypso time to study her surroundings, not wanting to meet those of her dance partner. \"I honestly would know..\" Stated her. For a moment the seed of dread settled in her chest and Calypso found herself clenching her jaw as if trying to smash that sentiment under her teeth. \" I was lucky enough to have no experience on the matter, my father had just a brief role on the battleground, and I fear that any guess on my part would sound terribly naive.\" She said those words with her usual amused smile but it didn't reach her eyes. \n\nThe hand resting on Bastian's shoulder flexed ever so slightly without her permission. Pull yourself together girl reprimanded the temere lady to herself, shaking slightly her head letting a deflecting laugh escaped her lips \"But, if truly I'd had to play a bet,\" Started her \"I think you would stand your ground perfectly on the battle, no enemy able to get past your blade...\" Calypso had never seen a battleground, but she had heard the stories, and for a moment her mind was filled with the sight of blood \" Your comrades are going to cheer your name and songs will be written talking of your valorous gestures!\" There was something luminous in her smile now, radiant under the lights that illuminate the night. \n\nWith the next step on the dance, calypso pulled herself closer, hooded dark eyes looking up at the young lord \"And on the last day, when the war is over and you'll finally be granted to come back home...\" Her voice had changed again, mellow and low. She hesitated to let suspense float between the little space that divided them \"You are going to trip on a rock and hit your head.\" And stepped back in a fit of giggles, finally managing to keep at bay the unfamiliar feeling."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nBastien listened, initially surprised at how serious Calypso was taking his playful question. However, something in her eyes, the way her hand had squeezed his shoulder for a second before she laughed and gave an optimistic response. A faint huff of amusement at *How* Optimistic of a response. And then she stepped closer and left very little space between them, and then made the teasing jab and erupted into a fit of ladylike laughter, moving away.\n\nA deep laugh escaped his lips at the prediction of his demise, a genuine smile once again lighting his face. That was one of the things he liked most about talking to Calypso: her replies were both clever and unpredictable. \"Oh, I am, am I?\" He asked as he pulled her close to him yet again, still laughing. His amused smile faltered slightly, slowly melting as he realized how close she was to him, and how his hand rested on the soft skin of her back. He looked at her, and it dawned on him how pretty her face was in the evening light. The stars seemed to shine brighter in her eyes than they did in the night's sky."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse | Maith Mansion```\n\nThe horror. The fool. Cyprien could not believe his ears. What could this upstart possibly know about De Burgh? Was this Baldarian's replacement for Falsa?\nThe shock and the sudden frustration made him close his eyes and inhale deeply. His brain raced trough Lutur's words, searching for something that might give him an edge. A means to change the strategy.\n\n\"Perhaps not,\" He replied. \"Perhaps I too have fallen for my own propaganda. However, it would put the Crown at ease to know that the threat has been dealt with. Sol regards the Exarchy as a key asset for it's agricultural output. You and I may disagree of course... But there is no changing the minds of our betters.\"\n\nCyprien took a perverse glee in the delivery of that last line, even if his tone remained unchanged.\nHe kept talking, unsure of how much of what he was saying were lies, and how much were his own unspoken concerns.\n\n\"This is why we need a show of force. Now. When the threat has a name and a face. Not later. And it would be appropriate that the Archon of Falsa takes to field, not his sister in his stead. If anything, it will at least silence the whispers at Sol that question your grace's battlefield inexperience.\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "``LUTUR | MAITH MANSION``\n\nThe colour rose in Lutur's cheeks. ' Inexper ...' He shook off the blush that had befallen him, steeling his face. ' I, for one, have heard no such rumours, and I'd advise you as your liege not to countenance the prattlings of idle Solans. Whenever I have visited the City, I have been careful to avoid the blathering mouths in favour of more respectable company.' \n\nThis was a lie, of course; everyone from the Vorelastus to Posoxe knew that the Archon of Falsa associated himself almost ***Exclusively*** With blathering mouths.\n\nThat smudge seemed to linger on Lutur's mind, weighing down his brow as he averted his gaze. ' Battlefield inexperience, pah! What do those pomps know about battle? They live the life of luxury out east while the barbarians breathe down our necks every waking moment.'\n\nHe sighed before meeting Cyprien's eyes again, his brow knitted tight. ' Do you have any ***Evidence*** That John de Burgh is preparing an aggression against us? His conquests at home are not enough to convince me.'"
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```CYPRIEN DE LYSSE | MAITH MANSION```\n\nEvidence. The young Lord Dumagne asked for evidence. Then said he would refuse the most obvious.\n\n\"Yes liege, I have evidence,\" Some would say too much, Cyprien included. \"Our scouts, the House of Koern, have detailed information on his army: number, composition, mustering grounds...\"\n\nCyprien kept an eye on his liege. He could not affort to lose his attention again.\n\n\"What we cannot predict is how he will attack once he's crossed the Rustlands. Battles cannot be won trough information alone. Faith and martial prowess are needed to prevail, as you well know.\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "``LUTUR | MAITH MANSION``\n\n' Faith,' Lutur spat back. He shook his head. ' There's faith, and then there's delusion. True faith is to believe in the will of Saris, in the surety and the righteousness of the pathways he lays before us. Tell me, do you have any reason to believe that the barbarian's path leads him south? Has he been sending provisions down towards the Rustlands, scouting out the borderland? You have information, but where's the intent, steward? Where does it all lead? '"
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse | Maith Mansion```\n\n\"What is intent, liege?\" Asked De Lysse. \"Is it sending soldiers to Swinford, at Koern's doorstep, in order to stage a mustering ground? Is it speaking publically against Terresol, its culture, and the faith of Saris? Is it ambition? The desire to be more than unwashed barbarians? Lust for revenge?\nLord Baldarian surely taught you how to read between the lines. The signs and portents, as my wife always says.\nI do not know what motivates De Burgh. All I know is that Northwind's army is amassing south. And that there is only one way they can go.\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "``LUTUR | MAITH MANSION``\n\n' Don't presume, steward,' Lutur hissed. ' Don't presume you know anything about my lord-father, may he find peace in the next life. And don't assume you can read the future after the meagre ramblings of your woman.'\n\nSomething was huffing up inside of him, and he took pause to quell it, treating Cyprien to a black look. His rising tone had drawn the looks of those nearby; it did not take Lutur long to notice this once his pique had softened. Suddenly abashed but still seeming to hold onto his arrogance, the archon sat back down on his chair, staring off at no one.\n\n' Is it true what you say? ' he asked, his tone much thinner now, his arms crossed over his bejewelled chest. ' That he musters his troops on your threshold, and that he has made suggestive abuses towards us before his people? On your life, steward? '"
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse | Maith Mansion```\n\n\"I speak no lies,\" Answered Cyprien. \"If you want to, send a spy to Northwind yourself. I assure you he won't even have to make it to Irongate. Nationalistic sentiment is high.\"\n\nHe then remembered something. Something he wasn't sure Lutur would appreciate, but something he had to say nevertheless:\n\n\"Besides, when has De Lysse failed the House of Dumagne?\"\n\nHe knew the eyes of the islanders were on them, but he could not afford to look away. Not now."
}
] | 252 | 2,658 |
475 | 2021-08-16 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\n\nCalypso was still laughing when she felt Bastian's large hand push against her back, cold palm pressed fully on her exposed skin. She blinked up at him, her laughter slowly dying in her throat. Amethyst eyes gazing down at her in a way she had not seen them do before. It wasn't new for her to find the nobleman subtly peeking at her. It was something she had expected, something that many had done and that she learned to ignore.\n\nBut now he was openly staring at her and Calypso found herself unprepared for how that made her feel.\n\nShe should step back. Take the matter into her hands and put space between them once again, giving room for their mind to recalibrate and slow down. But she didn't.\nThe hand on his shoulder moved closer to his neck, holding his stare as if it was a challenge of some sort, the first to look away condemned as looser, even though there was no sharpness in those eyes. Amusement curling her lips \"Bastian,\" Murmured her low. No title, just his name \"What are you thinking?\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nOn the grand balcony of Maith mansion\n\nAs Calypso's hand slid up his shoulder, his own subconsciously trailed up her back a few inches as they both leaned ever so closer to one another. The music continued to play, and the other pairs on the floor continued to waltz. Bastien paid both no heed. The faint buzz the alcohol had been providing was dimmer now.\n\nShe murmured his name, his first name, no titles. For some reason, the air felt faintly charged and his fingertips prickled in an oddly delightful way, though he didn't know why. Perhaps it was how close they were? He wasn't quite sure, but he liked the odd thrilling feeling, nevermind the reason. It felt like what was happening was tiptoeing a certain line, that it was in some way dangerous.\n\n\"Mmm...\" He hummed as he looked down at her, thinking of how to respond. Now that she had tilted her head up to gaze at him, he could see countless glittering constellations in her eyes. They were so dark and so clear: black pools harvesting the starlight and keeping it locked away to create small stars of their own.\n\nA faint smile appeared on his lips, but he seemed slightly distracted, still looking at her. He decided to make a joke, a callback to what was said earlier. \" 'Do you not make use of mirrors, my lady?' \" He asked in a lowered voice of his own. The words were soft, and while still playful, the comment did not sound as teasing as he planned it to be."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Servant of Clan Maith\nThe Sixteen Rings, Tonate Proper\n\n\nAs the contestants assembled and chatted, a small, decrepit looking old man dressed in the colors of clan maith slowly climbed the steps up towards the balcony of the grand barge that overlooked the throng of armored warriors on the deck. \nThe old man put his face behind his elbow and gave a few sickly coughs into the black cloth of his doublet, then turned his attention to the fighters below. He cleared his throat, and then spoke in a booming voice that was almost deafening to those closest to him. \n\"WARRIORS! THE GRAND MELEE SHALL SOON BEGIN! TURN YOUR ATTENTION TO ME!\" \n\nTwo dozen heads swiftly turned towards the old man, as a pleased look crossed his wizened features. The barge was silent, save for the rhythmic slapping of the waves against the hull. \n\"The rules are simple.\" He spoke far more softly now, almost a whisper compared to the shouting a few seconds prior. \"One is removed from combat if they can no longer fight, or yield, and the last man standing shall be the victor.\"\nHe began to turn to leave, but then turned back to face the crowd with a nasty smile. \n\"Oh, and do avoid killing each other.\" \n\nAs the little old man walked down from the deck, the great horns sounded, and the melee had begun."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "Katholou of Clan Drase\nThe Sixteen Rings, The Melee\n\nKatholou stepped forward and inhaled the fresh water-filled air, calming his heart beat and fighting the stress that had gradually built inside of him. He looked back towards his entourage.\n\n\"Hey boss! Don't kill too many of them!\"\n\nHis second in command shouted with a laugh, soon followed by the others. The leader of Clan Drase smiled and turned towards the field of the melee once again, lowering his helmet onto his head\n\n\"You made a grave mistake my friend\"\n\nHe shouted back causing the laughter to stop abruptly \n\n\"You forgot to specify what 'too many' actually implies\"\n\nHe laughed before stepping into the ring, staring down upon the other combatants. His objective was simply to find those who seemed weakest in order to get a few early eliminations in. After all, the objective of this whole facade was to show the prowess of the leader of Bradai's Shield and having a prolonged face off with some veteran of war would certainly not achieve that. He calmly looked over each and every combatant, analysing their stance, their weapons, their eyes, their symbols and, most importantly, their confidence, using his many decades of knowledge, both in battle and in court, to quickly decide those to avoid and those to force a fight with. Immediately he would notice the massive bulk of Carac The Butcher. He had heard of the massive man and his prowess as a warrior. Definitely not someone he wanted to mess with immediately but perhaps... As a final cherry on top... Eh that is to be decided.\nHe quickly snapped out of his thoughts. There were many others to examine and not nearly enough time. He quickly glossed over a few other warriors such as Fabian which he had never heard of but that, perhaps because of distance or perhaps because of equipment, he deemed not a good\n\nEarly target. Then he finally found him. The perfect weasel to crush under his foot early on. A man located just a few metres to his left who, if not for the armour covering the entirety of his body, would probably give off the impression of having passed through the wrong door. He looked around anxiously and, as the horns rang, he didn't even prepare a proper stance. Katholou chuckled. Taking him out would basically be a mercy. A quick hit to the head would be much preferable to what might have happened if he got caught in the middle of the battle to come. The Leader of the Bodyguards charged forward, his massive shield held high in front of him with the result that the poor target would turn its head around just in time to see the massive picture of a white peacock b-lining towards him\n\n\"No wait i yi- AGH!\"\n\nHe managed to shout before a mass of metal crushed into him, sending him flying five metres back and onto the ground, right in front of another combatant.\nKatholou stepped forward to pursue and was struck in the back by the dull swing of a\n\nSword coming from his exposed left. In his haste to reach the perfect target he had not realised that the other opponent located to his left had also ignored his primary opponent and had charged directly into him. He grunted as the pain sizzled through his spine. He was definitely out of shape. He turned around and in but a second analysed the man facing him: a young chap, probably in his twenties, who, fortunately, seemed to possess all of the theoretical knowledge and a decent amount of experience as well but lacked another key component of any warrior, creativity. In his haste to attack he had not considered a particular move that Katholou now had at his disposal, one that in an honourable fight or in a battle would probably never actually occur. And unfortunately for him The Melee was neither. Katholou quickly reacted by unstrapping his hand from his massive shield, making it clatter onto the ground under the flabbergasted eyes of his opponent. With the now free hand he proceeded to grab the hand holding the sword, preventing it's movements as he brought his smithing hammer down onto the helmet of the opponent, knocking him out cold on the spot.\n\n\"Ouch\"\n\nHe simply said as he looked around for other enemies and grabbing his shield once again. Only then did he notice that the man he had previously knocked onto the ground was now desperately fighting for survival as a crowd of brutal fighters fought around and on top of him, ignoring his calls for help and preventing his escape. Katholou cursed. If no one intervened the man might have ended up\n\nSuffering some severe injury or, worst, die. And that was a risk that Bradai's Chosen was not willing to take. He charged into the melee, swinging his hammer wildly in wide arcs and forcing the others to move apart like ice-bergs in front of a ship, allowing him to eventually grab the scared man by the collar of the chest-plate and drag him out of danger on the side of the arena. \n\n\"Th-thank you m'lord\"\n\nThe man was simply able to mutter before being interrupted by Katholou.\n\n\"Yeah yeah whatever now you have to do two things for me lad. Firstly stay the hell away from fights until your orchard finally grows some balls or you might actually end up dead. There won't always be someone to save yer ass\"\n\nHe said bluntly, receiving a simple nod in exchange.\n\n\"And... Secondly?\"\n\nHe asked. \n\n\"Why of course i need you to go tell whoever you meet how great the leader of Bradai's Shield is. Or i'll find you and make sure you find the fate from which i delivered you. Multiplied by ten of course\"\n\nHe added with a chuckle before turning around and heading into the fray once again, leaving a somehow both scared and relieved man behind to ponder on his life choices."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "Arin Cragton \nSouthern Isles\n\nArin nodded, dropping the coin onto the table. It landed, rolling along its edge in a sharp circle before finally coming to a slow stop. He looked down at Vik, before closing his eyes as the smaller figure took his hands. He inhaled deeply, before picturing the face of the man who had laughed as Arin lay struggling in the trash bin. \n\n*He was larger, barely containing his mass in the leather armor that was hanging by bare threads. It was beaten, worn, as if several owners before had owned it. Arin watched as the man turned away, slapping the other man on the back as he laughed loudly. \n\nArin's gaze kept on the pair as they began to walk away, before realizing he was following them. They began to follow a meandering path through the stalls, speaking of matters Arin couldn't quite understand. It was as if their words were muffled, or his ears were covered. \n\nThe mumbling kept going, distracting Arin as he tried to focus on the man he was following. His vision flickered, almost vanishing as Arin began to fail. He quickly clenched his jaw, focusing as hard as he could before the pair slowly came into focus. He watched as the pair split off, one going into one home and the other entering the one adjacent to it. Arin noticed time moving, but kept focusing as he watched the man stretch and wake up, before struggling to tighten the belt that held his trousers at his waist. Arin watched as he exited his home, a loud belch leaving his putrid body.*\n\n\"They are guarding the entrance to the market as we speak.\" Arin said, opening his eyes as the vision came to an end. His hair was now hanging past his ears, and his body ached as he stood up. He tied his hair back with a small string, and looked at Vik. \n\n\"Thank you.\" He said, taking the last sip of his ale."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nOn The grand balcony of Maith Mansion \n\nHer tongue clicked quietly as she rolled her eyes while Bastian turned her words against her, but her luminous smile never left her lips and for some odd reason Calypso found it genuinely hard to turn those corners upside down.\n\nNot that she had never enjoyed the nobleman's company on their previous meetings. He had proven of being capable of... Decent conversations, when on a good day. But right now. This night it was like back at the market. Genuine. Simple. And very dangerous. \n\n\"I wouldn't know what to make of mirrors, your eyes show all that I need to know. Just as well as my reflection.\" Chuckled Calypso under her breath, and found herself saying the truth. Bastian seemed to have completely forgotten who he was and where they were as he held her close. She wasn't completely innocent, to be honest, maybe she had even encouraged this behavior, and gods she could already hear the comments the other guests would make. But most troublesome of all was the way Bastian's gaze held nothing but tenderness and genuine fondness that sent a blush to her cheeks.\n\nCalypso decided to ignore it. Ignore everything, ignore the way his hand pushed warmly on her back, the way his eyes held her gently, how his speech seemed to have turned from a fun teasing banter to a deep melody that made her cheek burn without her permission. She decided to ignore all of it for her own sake and instead turn her eyes around the room like an animal in a cage searching desperately for an escape.\n\n\"And I could stand here and list all that I see in them... Because honestly my lord, alcohol might have fogged up your mind but it makes everything in your way too apparent,\" Warned her, hoping her words would not come as riddles to his ears as Calypso slowly and gently pushed between them when finally her eyes caught on something.\n\nIt was not an escape in the physical sense but a clear way for Calypso to get out of this predicament: Fleur. Her gentle figure moving through the crowd, a confused and hurt look on her face. Why was she not at her father's side as she had asked? Why did she had not waited for Calypso's return?\n\nThe temmerre lady shot a glance back at the high tables where the head of the house was supposed to be and finally her lips gave up on holding the smile. Seeing the Doumage man talk to Cyprien was like watching a pig grunting at a goat. She was sure something had come out of the swine mouth and had given Fleur a good enough reason to flee the scene. \n\nCyprien himself looked about ready to deck the boy in the face.\n\n\"But I fear that my service is required elsewhere.\" Stated Calypso firmly, finally stepping back and freeing herself from the embrace, and if she had felt any regret in doing so... Well that's between her and her heart.\n\nQuickly, Calypso performed a small rushed curtsy and disappeared into the crowd, soon reaching Fleur \"My Lady, what happened?\" Asked gently taking Fleur's hand in hers. \"Why aren't you by your father's side? You seemed pretty convinced about your request earlier.\" Pressed onward."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nCatarina sat back, her hands slithering deftly away from Alva's and occupying themselves once more with food and drink. \n\n\"You're not interrupting anything at all!\" She replied warmly. \"He is busy, currently, so I am free to revel. I'm really just a decoration, to humanize him. Spending my evening chatting with guests, gorging myself on food and drink, and dancing from arm to arm, man to man. I can't complain.\"\n\nShe smiled at Alva, continuing with, \"I'm a guest of Captain Valkrin Farensun, works for Maith now. I'd imagine that you've heard of him, or at least seen him around.\""
}
] | 335 | 3,325 |
668.666667 | 2021-08-18 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nSixteen Rings, Tonate Proper\n\nSteel clashed against steel, warriors screamed in pain and yelled in fury as their weapons met flesh, it was chaos, and Carac felt right at home. Let Ferdinand have his balls and feasts, the only dance that Carac knew was that of the battlefield, and the only finery he wore was his plate mail. The closest he would ever get to true peace was in the middle of a fight, and he wouldn't have it any other way. \n\nHe strode into the fray, towering over the other combatants. They all gave him a wide berth, none wished to fight the Butcher of Feyshore, and at the moment, he had no wish to fight them either. He had a target in mind, and until he had dealt with that, then the rest of these maggots were safe, at least from him. \nHe saw a man wearing the colors of one of the local isle clans go down to a blow from a warrior from Terresol wielding two swords at once, and one worthless maggot who looked to be from Northwind was taken out from behind by a knight wearing the flag of Astoria stitched onto his gambeson. Truly, nothing brought people together like a good fight. \n\nFrom the corner of his eye he heard a yell, and turned to see a boy running at him with a sword held over his head. Fucking amatuers, he wasn't even wearing a full helmet. \nHe swung his shield arm in a backhand motion, smashing the youth across the face with the massive metal sheet. He heard a satisfying *Crunch* As the blow connected, and a handful of teeth came loose, and his opponent staggered. He didn't even have time to process the blow before Carac brought the shield back around, swinging it like a fist directly into his newfound victim's face. \nThe boy went flying back, skidding across the deck with a bloody mess for a face. Carac assumed he was alive, he hadn't hit him that hard.\n\nA few meters away from Carac, another battle was reaching its apex. Two warriors were locked in combat, one dressed in gilded armor that spoke to its owner's wealth, if not his skill, while the other was dressed in an almost equally expensive set of plate, painted shining silver. Their blades flashed through the air, striking shield and plate, but neither driving home a blow that would end the battle. They had carved out a space for their duel, the other warriors not daring to interfere until one of them had fallen. \nThe golden warrior feinted an attack from the side, and when his silvery opponent moved to block, he rushed forwards, striking his opponent on the side of his helm before shoving him to the ground with his shield. Before his opponent could rise again, he put his blade to his throat. \n\"Do you yield?\" He spoke, as the silver warrior held his hands up in defeat. \n\"I do, m'lord. It was well fought.\"\n\nThe gilded warrior chuckled, and lifted up his faceplate to reveal himself. \n\"Let that be a lesson to you, never challenge Sir Wesel of Korkou!\" He reached down to help his fallen opponent rise before he was distracted by a noise from behind, heavy footfalls, approaching fast. \nWesel turned just in time to see the towering warrior approaching from behind. He raised an eyebrow, confused. \n\"Oh, it's you-\"\n\nCarac swung his mace with all the force he could muster, and the world seemed to fade into slow motion. The weapon made its way through the air so fast as to be a blur, but Carac could see every detail, he could see the sweat on Wesel's plump face, watch as his confused expression turned to one of surprise, and then terror, all in the fraction of a second. He saw his mace make contact with his gilded helm, watching as all that expensive metal, forged by some pompous ass in terresol for this worthless little shit of a lordling, crumpled like so much tin beneath his blow. \nHe watched as crimson swelled in Wesel's left eye as the pressure from the mace slamming into his head caused blood vessels to pop like a thousand sacks of red paint. He watched as the eye bulged out of the crumpling skull that no longer had the space to put it, launching out of the socket and into the air, connected only by a thin red membrane. \nCarac found joy in few things, but as he watched his mace crush deeper into the malformed chunk of metal that had once been a helmet, he couldn't help but grin. And as Sir Wesel's neck made a sickening snap, and turned at a grotesque angle as his limp form began to fall to the deck, Carac smiled.\n\nAnd then, he was back in the battle, returned from his trance to the deck of the Sixteen Rings. \nIt took a moment for people to scream. \nThe spectators closest to Carac pointed and yelled, one woman fainted once she noticed that Sir Wesel's jaw had come loose from the blow. It had detached at the leftmost side, and just now had slipped out, previously held in place by the helm, but now dangling freely. The silver armored warrior who Wesel had just bested looked up helplessly at Carac, lost in a mixture of shock and terror. \nCarac noticed none of them, he simply gave the body a single look, then turned and walked back into the fray. \nMore blood would be spilled before the day was through."
},
{
"author": "definitelyaworm",
"message": "Fleur De Lysse\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAfter breaking away from her father, the girl made her way across the floor, trying to glance over the taller bodies for her brother's regognizably light hair. He was a tall person, but Fleur couldn't seem to locate him within the crowd of people. \n\n\"Lost, little girl?\" A man had questioned from behind Fleur. The girl turned, her violet eyes landing on him. He was an older man, the hunch in his back quite apparent, and Fleur noted that he was missing quite a few teeth. She couldn't really place a finger on his ethnicity, though she assumed by his darker tone of skin he lived on the Isles. \n\n\"I am not lost. I know precisely where I am. Are you lost?\" Fleur quipped back. \"I am merely looking for my brother. You may know him as the man who won the joust. He's a little bit of a local celebrity right now.\" Fleur grinned with pride, placing her hands on her hips. The girl obviously had no qualms with praising her brother. \n\n\"Ah- a De Lysse, eh? I've met your ma. What a woman.\" The man blushed, causing Fleur to furrow her eyebrows, but she did not question his statement. \n\n\"Maybe.\" Fleur answered, her eyes narrowing. \"Who's askin?\" \n\n\"Jus' an old man. Woul' ya like a lolly?\" He asked, procuring a sticky looking lollipop from the inside of his vest. Fleur slowly reached to grab it, when she was spun around on her heels by a frantic sounding Calypso.\n\n\"Oh- Hello Lady Calypso.\" Fleur sounded much more calm than the other woman, the interaction with the other man allowing her some control over her boiling anger. \"I must speak to my brother. It is urgent, have you seen him?\" She asked, before shaking her head at all of her questions. \"I excused myself. My father was paying me no mind, let alone that insolent creature he was speaking to. Not Lady Peraz. The other one.\" Fleur furrowed her eyebrows again, before turning her head to see if she could locate the man with the candy again. Though, it seemed as if he disappeared into the crowd with Calypso's arrival.\n\n\"Do you think they have more candy somewhere?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyannah\nMaith Mansion, Tonate\n\nWas there a point to being here? The shifter questioned herself silently as her judgmental gaze hovered over the crowd who had paired themselves with another on the dance floor. Initially she had come for the entertainment and to make an attempt at socialising, however whenever someone made their way towards the shifter to make conversation, Cecilia would respond each time in a snarky manner. Her body language didn't help her either when she kept her distance or gave them the cold shoulder as they grew closer. As for the entertainment, Cecilia preferred something more sinister to provide her any chance of being entertained rather than a dancing bear and fire breathers. \n\nA deep sigh left her lips before tearing her gaze from the dance floor and towards the rest of the guests, looking for one last person to make an attempt at. She avoided looking in the direction of those who were crowded together and focused more towards the humans who were on their own like she was. It was then when a particular person caught her interest. \n\nRaising from her seat, Cecilia began to wander towards the familiar face. As she approached his table, she decided in a spur of the moment to make a quick detour before finally reaching him. She collected a couple of mugs which had been filled separately with ale and rum and then once her hands were full, the shifter continued towards Valkrin and placed both of the cups in front of him before sitting herself down. \n\n\"A peace offering\" She began before giving the two drinks a soft nudge with a sly smirk. \"Since I can't get drunk, you can drink for me.\""
}
] | 504 | 2,006 |
546.3 | 2021-08-19 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nMaith Mansion\n\n\"Cecilia,\" He started, completely finishing the mug of rum she'd sat in front of him in one sip, \"I can't believe after all this time you'd forget I don't drink ale.\" \n\nValkrin handed the mugs off to a servant, who brought him back an entire bottle of rum. \"How's my favorite subhuman? And did you see the way those bastards nearly killed each other over Kelwynd's skull? Imagine if they figured out I have his crown too.\" He had no love for elves or their ilk, nor any other race below men, but the Shifters he admired. To change one's shape was a skill he found useful, and the reason he'd worked with this woman in the past. \n\nCecilia Lyannah was one of very few people that Valkrin enjoyed the presence of, and possibly the only woman on the planet more dangerous for him than he was for her."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyannah\nMaith Mansion, Tonate\n\nHer shoulders shrugged in an uncaring manner when he mentioned her failure to remember his usual drink. \"I just remember you drink... Heavily. In all honesty, I'm still trying to decide who is the worst alcoholic between you and Heath.\" As a servant made her way towards their table after being signaled by Valkrin, Cecilia grew silent whilst the two exchanged the mugs and bottle of his chosen liquor. Once she left, Cecilia returned to their conversation. \n\n\"Let's just say you'll probably be seeing me around the isles a lot more than you're used to.\" She decided to avoid telling him how she'd been to avoid the risk of embarrassment, considering she had fucked up big time on the mainland. So when he mentioned squabble from earlier in regards to the skull of Kelwynd, Cecilia's eyes lit up with a devious thought which was replicated with her cunning smirk. \n\n\"Why would you tell me this? Do you know the urge it gives me to yell out that fact?\" She questioned before resting her back against the chair's wooden frame and crossed her arms gently over her chest in a relaxful manner. \"You're lucky I'm trying to avoid any attention coming my way.\""
},
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nAs the court of wealthy nobles proceeded on with their dinner and general intermingling, talking amongst one another and enjoying the revelries of the festival at the Maith Mansion, one pirate dwelled in the midst of it all, shadowed by his crew. Galt-Drake quietly sat at a separate table with a group of his crewmates from his own ship, drinking a cup of wine. Time went on, though, and the nature of the gathering shifted. The dinner changed trajectory, and slowly but surely, the congregation of nobles began to get up and head out to the balcony. Some attendants began gathering different colored ribbons. In accordance with Islander culture, dark ribbons were reserved for men, and lighter ribbons were reserved for women. Everything about the dance that was starting up was lavish and rife with the best of Islander culture. Musicians began gathering throughout the balcony and started up a generally jaunty type of music, using their drums, fiddles, hurdy-gurdies, and other such instruments to great effect. Nobles from all over began getting their ribbons and dancing as best they could, although most mainlanders were easily being shown up by the Islanders. Galt-Drake looked towards his crew, and the group of scoundrels shared a mutual nod. Galt-Drake stood up with his lads and headed over to the ribbon providers, each man grabbing a dark ribbon. He then addressed each of his men in a calm but commanding fashion, which was normal for him.\n\nGalt-Drake boldly stated, \"Alright, lads, here's the plan! Each of us are gonna try gettin' a dance with at least one noblewoman. Anyone who can work their charm on at least three gets a pint on me. Go get 'em, lads, and remember to be classy!\"\n\nGalt-Drake's men then sauntered off, surprisingly sober, and each of them attempted to get a dance with a noblewoman, to varying degrees of success. Galt-Drake, though, seemed to have pretty much no success at all. The first noblewoman Galt-Drake approached didn't even acknowledge him, and the second lady he approached immediately went off towards another nobleman. Galt-Drake shrugged, not putting too much stock into all of this. All the same, the dance was finally underway.\n\nGalt-Drake put his ribbon down on an empty table somewhere and rolled his eyes slightly, no longer possessing any real desire to try dancing with anyone in that current moment. This just wasn't the time or place for him to work his charm, it seemed.\n\n\"Pah, to hell with all that. I'll find somethin' else to do. I owe some of my lads a pint anyways,\" Galt-Drake muttered to himself. He then grabbed a mug, filled it with ale, and scoured the area with his vision to see if there were any tables worth sitting at. He eventually spotted such a table, populated by the legendary Valkrin Farensun and... Some other lady. She definitely seemed to be a tad familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it at the moment. All the same, that was the only table that looked interesting, so Galt-Drake decided he'd sit with the two of them. Galt-Drake calmly walked over to the table Cecilia and Valkrin were sitting at, and then took his seat right next to Cecilia. The young privateer set his mug down on the table and nodded politely to regard Valkrin, before looking over at Cecilia with a brow slightly raised. He waited until there was a pause in the conversation before fully entering and saying his piece.\n\n\"I know full well who Valkrin is, but who the hell are you?\" Galt-Drake casually inquired."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "*Cursed with greatness*—that was how the Seneschal went on to describe it. It was a bastard's place to watch and learn from their queer, twilight seat in the affairs of men, a place between power and insignificance that no other man or woman could ever really achieve, or even understand. With the wisdom they learned, some went on to be great. The stuff of legend; the most inspiring a hero could be. When the hearts of praised rulers failed, and the masses trembled, one bastard sagacious beyond his years would step out of their path-in-between and into the breach of danger. One careful stride forward into the line between life and death. There were always between life and death, in a way. Most of these years, ***He*** Certainly had been.\n\n' Who am I to get in the way of fate? ' the Seneschal pondered aloud. And truly, when Samsom looked at the man, he saw right through him. He gazed into Samsom's emerald eyes, and he saw a gateway to the path he'd always felt with his feet, but which he had never truly seen for its length, and its breath, and its divering ways. Above all, never had he realized how much father he had to go. He was twenty-seven this year, and was sure that the end of his road was in sight, be it death or some acceptable satisfaction that would ease his soul out to its audience with the Most Perfect. Something in the Seneschal's oozing, noxious spirit seemed to flicker at him, lure him forward. On this path of his, he had barely learned to walk. His legs were on the verge of tremulations.\n\nMaybe. Or maybe this was just the Black Asp with whom he was dealing, but six times as venomous.\n\n' Those are some dangerous suggestions, friend. Especially for a knight of Terresol.' He looked down a moment, then turned a slight, mirthless smile up to the Seneschal. ' Maybe I've got no place talking about risks.'\n** **\n\nSamsom diverted his gaze to one of the blue lamps, hanging from a crudely hewn banyan branch by a chain. He took a step astray of the Seneschal and reached out for one of the lamps, catching in the lowest ring of his vision the way that the oceanic luminescence danced all across his silver-pannelled tunic, lighting it up underneath the lip of his short cloak like a sunstruck bay. He gazed into that light, letting his eyes turn soft so as not to be hurt by the light, but only to absorb it. Where once there had been a chilling lack of ease, his brain felt pure now, and his thoughts ran clear with only the faintest ripples of a deep, unshakable anxiety in the revealing of them.\n\n' Maybe I'm a mage, maybe I'm not. But I know people in Terresol who certainly are mages.' He felt the smooth texture of the glass, warm with the power that glowering out from within. ' To be honest, they've got me around their little finger. Not ashamed to say that.' He let the Seneschal see his eyes again, schooling his expression. ' What I did to end up that way, I'd do it again. But it's how things are for me right now.'\n\nThere was some shift in the foliage, and Samsom found himself snapped away for a moment. His eyes darted around, and his hands ached for the feeling of a sword hilt. He was as good as naked out here; so the Seneschal certainly made him feel. Little to be done about it now. He was over the hump of the dark business now, anyway; past the most crucial confession. Maybe he could allow himself to be just a little bit afraid now.\n\n' These people get me to do things. Asked me to come here, and do my best to bring Lutur along with me. It's going more or less my way so far.' Not that any of this was really going ' his way '.\n** **\n\nSamsom studied the Seneschal. The Black Asp had taken a massive leap in expecting the man's confidence. Samsom was less and less sure that shadow-man had made the right choice sending him here with every word the Seneschal spoke. This Azaryan saw things, and moreover, he wanted to see things a certain way, and had a mind to twist and pull them until they were closer to that vision. That was his assessment, at least. This was not a man to serve someone like the Pirate King as a mere magic dog.\n\nHe drew closer with careful eyes, laying a hand on the twisted 'seat' in the roots. ' Wanted me to talk to you in particular, Seneschal. None of them could do it. Back home, they're all either too obvious or too lowly to get things done in a place like this. Only me. You know—bastard's work.'\n\nSamsom swallowed then. A frown bore down on his brow, and he let it come. ' Truth is, I'm going to be going a certain way in this war. I don't like it, but it's where I'm going. What my acquaintances want to know is that, if things go ***Your*** Way—' he looked off to the palace—'or well, ***His*** Way, at least ... '\n\nThis was the real kick. He drew a soft breath, threw another eye around, then met the Seneschal's gaze straight-on. ' They want to know if Bradai will lean towards their favour. They want to know that maybe you and the king'll take a leaf out of Anyanka Durkhan's book. You know—make something out of the ashes of Terresol that suits people like them, and you.' He tapped his finger against the root. In spite of himself, he found his eyes falling to the grass, contemplative, and the words came out like curious hounds sniffing through a strange new field: ' And maybe me too.'\n\nHis eyes turned sharp, his face straight and hard. ' But the kind of man I'd trust the way you want me to, against a threat of such magnitude? The men whose blood he bears would have taken back every inch that the barbarians had stolen by now. He would have borne the northern exarchates up on his shoulders. That's what I would have done, steward. That's what I ***Shall*** Do when my time comes. I'll have them all, steward. Their lands. Their smoking monasteries. Their women.' He leaned closer, too close, and one of his eyes was narrow as his face twitched, straining against the turgid ardour that raged against his boyish features from within that thick, blocky head. ' If John de Burgh comes, Cyprien, then I won't just hunker down and try to cling onto what I myself possess. I won't do so, won't follow the pitiful example of De Lysses past. No, I will strike ***Back*** As the viper does, I will ***Rage*** Across your hills and beyond, as the bull does.'\n\nLutur stood up to face the marquis, and smiled. There was some mirth in it, but something behind that mirth as well, something that made the sheen of content stretch and burn like cloth over a flame. ' And when I rage, Cyprien—if you keep my confidence in the calm before that storm—then you will be at my side. That will be a season of good things, Cyprien. I hope that the De Lysses will ***Not*** Fail, Cyprien. I pray with all my heart that Saris will lead your son—your proud, proud, stalwart boy-child—to an honourable death, one that'll teach him Saris' wisdom as he lays dying. That's the best you can hope for him. And for yourself, and the rest of your house? It's ***Redemption*** That I'll be praying for Cyprien. A merciful end to your sempiternal hermitage in that cold, godless eyrie you call a 'keep'.'\n** **\n\nHe sat back onto the table, still smiling his brutal smile at the exarch. His lady companion, with some discernable unease, joined him at his side, and he laid an arm around her shoulder. The other hand took up a cup of spiced wine, and he lifted it to the small gathering of curious faces that his mild outburst had garnered. The way he revelled in their attention was plain on his face.\n\nWhen his eyes settled once more on Cyprien, his simper broke into a bright grin. ' Will the eagles carry on picking at seeds, steward? Or will they ***Fly***? ' And to suit that word, he threw his arms up in an exaggerated caricature of flapping wings. A flick of wine flashed across the table from his cup, the lady at his flank jumped with shock, and the gathered nobility laughed. Most of it was fake; most of it was pandering to a man of high station who was strutting around his vassal with more peacock pride than any of the rainbow-plumed birds the king had let loose around the tables.\n\n' I for one,' said Lutur, stopping to take a long sip of his wine, ' am positively chomping at the bit to see which way it will be.'"
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nPeraz had just opened her mouth to speak before her brother dismissed her.\n\n\"This is a conversation for men of import\". Her face displayed a degree of shock for a moment.\n\nPeraz could have laughed! If their father had lived to see what the boy had become he would have been livid. It took every ounce of her strength not to take it from his head and toss it across the ground like a vexed child.\n\nShe picked up her glass and downed the remaining alcohol within it, letting whatever the drink within to burn all the way down inside of her throat before setting it back down, just lighter than a slam, and standing.\n\n*What am I meant to do now*? She thought, frowning. Her eyes scanned the crowd to see if Samsom had returned from his conversation with the Azaryan and felt her face drop further. She truly felt like a child, wanting for her best friend to link arms with and huff with the familiar feeling of a trembling lip.\n\n*I am the dragon of Falsa*, she thought, *I will not cry*.\n\nIt was then that the dance had begun, it was something jaunty and new. The music was so loud and quick that Peraz found herself drawn to its unfamiliar sound, free of holy hymnals and psalms and perfect for getting your annoying little brother's words from your head.\n\nAnd that's how she found herself twirling and tripping over her feet. The drink had brought out her true unrestrained laughter as a red headed Islander pointed to his feet and tried to teach her the proper steps before twirling her into another partner."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyannah\nMaith Mansion, Tonate\n\nHer attention was taken from Valkrin when an unknown male brought himself to the table, her gaze lifting from one man to another with an amused expression. The way he introduced herself was something that intrigued her, enjoying the bluntness of his lack of knowledge in regards to who she was. She didn't bother to stand, instead her brow rose as the skin on the outer corner of her eyes crinkled from withholding a small laugh. \"I'm nobody.\" Was her simple reply before a grin took over. \"But you can call me Arabella. Now, who the hell are *You*?\"\n\nShe cocked her head slightly as she spoke while attempting to slip her voice into Val's mind, hoping he wouldn't fight her on speaking telepathically. *Just go along with the name*. She wasn't sure if he heard her, she simply hoped he was inebriated enough for her to break through."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion```\n\nCyprien bowed respectfully when Lutur finished, in deed if not in heart. He saw himself out even as the young lord returned to his harlot.\n\nHe moved trough the dancers at an an hastened pace, gaze darting everywhere yet nowhere at all.\nLutur. Lutur Dumagne. Thinking of him made a burning hatred raise from his troat. Why was he so angry? Was it the complete and utter lack of awareness of the Falsan lord? The way he insulted him and his House? How he had implied that Bastien deserved to end as food for carrion animals?\n\nPerhaps it was everything at once. He had treated with entitled upstarts before, just not one that also happened to be his liege. Being the lord of a House of arrogant scions had taught Cyprien that the calibre of a man was in reverse proportion to their need to make their worth known.\n\nIt was a belief that had yet to be proven false.\n\nHe saw Peraz struggling to retain balance in the dance floor. He averted his sight. He'd had enough of the Dumagnes for one evening.\nHis head turned towards Fleur. The sight of his daughter went a long way towards washing the bile of his choler, but the woman standing next to her prevented him from purging it entirely.\n\nKolgrim. One of his vassals, at least in theory. Truth be told, Thorne couldn't be considered anyhting other than a liability. But he was dead now, wasn't he? Who was now in charge of the House? The Kolgrim woman would know.\n\n\"My beautiful daughter!\" Announced Cyprien as he grabbed Fleur around her shoulders. His eyes were already moving towards Calypso. \"And Lady Kolgrim! Forgive me for not being able to offer my condolences earlier. My mind has been troubled by all sorts of preoccupations. Issues now solved thanks to the generosity of House Dumagne,\" He lied."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nBastien saw how Calypso's cheeks flushed slightly, and she was smiling. And then there was distance made between them, the smile disappeared, and she excused herself. It seemed urgent. He turned as she left, and saw that she had disappeared in the crowd. *'Hm,'* He said to himself, staring at the ground blankly, trying to process what they had just done. What *He* Had just done. A faint blush crept on his cheeks as the boldness of his words echoed in his head.\n\nHe had indeed drank a good deal of alcohol.\n\nIt seemed that many began to flood the dance floor, much to his dismay. Before he could escape, he knew that a new song was about to begin. He had no choice but to dance. *'Gods, why me,'* He asked the sky as he looked up. The eyes of women were once again upon him. He needed to find a partner before a partner found him.\n\nA loud laugh made him turn his head, and he saw the Dragon of Falsa twirling and dancing in a manner that made him almost certain she had a good bit to drink. *'Great minds think alike,'* He thought dryly as he wove his way over. The sight of her made him oddly nervous, and a bit self-conscious. It seemed like it had been so long ago that they had last seen one another. And yet she seemed ultimately the same, perhaps even lovelier. Young love was painful, and yet the fondness he had felt for her so long ago felt to bubble up as he heard her laugh once more.\n\nThe music was starting to meld into a new song, and he saw Peraz being instructed by an Islander man on how to dance. *'Has she not much experience with dancing?'* He wondered as he approached, his expression curious as he watched her. Her feet seemed to be unbalanced. Perhaps it was due to the alcohol. Before he could ask her if he could have this dance, she twirled right in front of him and stopped, facing him.\n** **\n\n\"Ah,\" He said, and he seemed a small bit flustered. The mix of what he had just said to Calypso and the sight of seeing his childhood béguin before him was a bit overwhelming. The slightly tense and bewildered expression turned a bit more genuine and soft as he smiled down at her, offering his hands for her to hold, wordlessly imploring her to dance. \"You twirl as beautifully as ever, Lady Dumagne.\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "|Fabian Ambrose|\n\n|Sixteen Rings|\n\nNow in his armour, Fabian watched as chaos broke free around him. Much like when he had been relaxing before, he stayed to the sidelines and attempted to avoid as much attention as possible. But of course, this was a grand melee, he couldn't stay away from it forever without being disqualified. Hearing the sound of steel against leather, he lurched to the side, avoiding a would be disabling blow. Now he turned to face his sudden attacker with his own steel brandished. He had always admired the sword he had taken from his former and unfortunate master, being a almost masterwork of a blade- and much to high-quality for him to have purchased for himself, but he doubted anyone would notice that in the clumped bodies of the melee. Looking past his weapon, he spotted the man who attacked him, he was old and scarred, perhaps a former soilder or a Knight who fought one to many battles. His Pondering was cut short as the man lunged again, sword clashing against Fabians, it was easy to keep pace with his opponents slashes, stabs, and feints. Moving back a few steps, he saw his opponent attempting to slash at his neck, prompting Fabian to duck. To his surprise, he heard the sword strike home- not in him, but some other poor fellow fighting some other soul. Fabian shot out his leg into the knee of his the man who was attempting to pull his sword back, sending him tumbling from his blade and the poor soul it was now stuck in. The sounds of battle faded as he put a foot on the mans chest and put the tip of his blade to his throat.\n\n\"Yield.\"\n\nAnd with that the man made a noise, it was clear he was yielding but Fabian hadn't the time to care about the exact words. He pulled his blade away, and looked around the field, cursing as he watched a large man crush some poor fop in golden armour's head- and decided to avoid that section of the brawl completely. It wasn't long before another body came and Fabian was forced into another duel.."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nMaith Mansion\n\n*The name? Dear, I'm going to have more fun than that.* He'd heard her words faintly, and allowed her to slip into his mind. As he spoke to Cecilia, he slid his hands over the table on top of hers, and turned his attention back to the new face. \n\n\"Boy, you come to my table uninvited, you immediately interject into a conversation you're not part of, then have the *Gall* To ask her who she is? Do you not recognize the face of Arabella Farensun immediately? Or are you and your boys too inclined towards me that you'd rather forget my wife?\" Valkrin's expression remained a serious one, years of experience lying his way in and out of anything taught him a confidence in everything he said. \n\nThe young man had disturbed him, no matter the flattery he put on, and needed to be reminded that this was not a shipdeck where actions would be discarded in minutes. This was a Royal Function, and the actions of any Privateer reflected on the Pirate King, and more importantly Valkrin himself."
}
] | 383 | 5,463 |
284.916667 | 2021-08-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nInitially, Galt-Drake's first mode of action was going to be responding to the strange woman who'd introduced herself as Arabella. However, this was immediately overturned by the brief look she and Valkrin gave each other, followed by the pirate legend's confident response. If Galt-Drake weren't the man he was, or if the pair of seasoned war criminals were dealing with one of Galt-Drake's subordinates, they would probably have gotten a very panicked response, which was likely what the two were going for here. On the other hand, though, Galt-Drake wasn't so easily shaken up. He knew the whole legend of Valkrin Farensun, and while he greatly respected the man sitting in front of him, he still knew enough to gather that Valkrin wasn't being entirely truthful about his rebuttal here. One particular detail about said rebuttal undid the whole illusion for Galt-Drake before it was ever really put up. All the same, Galt-Drake responded with respect and class in his voice and mannerisms, a bit of a strange outlier among the lower sea dogs of the bulk of King Bradaí's navy.\n\nGalt-Drake calmly retorted, \"I do at least want ta apologize for enterin' in such a manner. I tend to try holding myself and my crew to a better standard. We like havin' a solid touch of class, after all. However, I know of ya well, Valkrin, and while ya damn near fooled me, ya shot yerself in the foot by callin' Arabella here yer wife. A third of our navy is just yer bastards alone, and ye never once held a marriage ceremony here. Ye expect me ta believe ye just now took a wife?\"\n\nGalt-Drake followed this rebuttal of his own by taking a quiet swig of his mug of ale and heartily laughing. He was having as good a time as \"Arabella\" And Valkrin were, it seemed, albeit for slightly different reasons. The two had their fun in wanting to mess with his head, and Galt-Drake had his own fun in calling a portion of the bluff. He still had no idea who \"Arabella\" Actually was, though."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyannah\nMaith Mansion, Tonate\n\nIt took everything within Cecilia to not react by ripping her hand from Valkin so she could land her fist into the middle of his face. Instead, she inhaled deeply and slipped her hand from Valkin's before placing both against her lap to avoid anyone from touching her further. *Did you want to be my next target? I can make it possible.* \n\nLooking back towards Galt-Drake, she was thankful he didn't believe any of the bullshit that spilled from Val's lips. \"He is quite the man whore, isn't he?\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe Maith Mansion\n\nCalypso had reached the young girl just in time to meet the eyes of an older man handing her candy. It took less than an icy glare to rid of him as the attention of the young girl turned back to her. Thanks to the gods Calypso had spot Fleur wandering around, or she would have never forgiven herself for leaving the girl in the hand of... Something that could maybe be called a man if she was to be kind.\n\n\"Your brother?\" Asked Calypso slightly concerned by Fleur's words \"I was just now with him, But my lady I don't think Is-\" But before she could finish that phrase, another pair of hands took a grip on Fleur's shoulders. For a moment the Temerre lady tensed up, ready to rip the girl out of the grasp of whatever insolent drunk bastard would take the liberty to manhandle her like that... But it was only Cyprien, not sure if it was better but still a small sigh of relief left her lips. \n\nWhen the attention of the older man fell on her again Calypso instinctively tensed up fixing her posture to perfection. His words striker her as unusual... Was he now trying to make up for his mistakes or was this the opening to a larger discussion?\n\"You have no need to apologize, my lord, I'm well aware that your precious time can't be wasted on such small matters.\" Stated her with a gentle smile \"But I greatly appreciate your words.\" And lowered herself in a small curtsy.\n\nWhen Cyprien brought up the Doumagne, Calypso's eyes gave a flicker of malice for just a second, \"Well I'm glad that your talk with the Anchor has come to a good end,\" Begun her, hardly believing what the man had stated \" The same doesn't seem to be possible to be said for Her grace your daughter, since she was just now communicating me that her encounter with Lord Doumage had not gone too smoothly.\" There was a hint of harshness in her words, contrasting with the softness of her expression as she gently caressed the top of the young girl's head. Calypso was tempted to bring up how her own fists interaction with the high lord had gone but didn't want to risk any questions about why she and Bastian were walking around alone in the first place.\n\n\"Apparently she had come to me searching for aid from her brother,\" Her eyes lifted from Fleur back to her father, \"Something that I honestly discourage since My lord Bastian is...\" And turned around, watching him and Peraz Laugh and \"Dance\" Together, suppressing a smile at the sight of the two tipsy giant \"...Undisposed.\" Settled her instead of out loud call her employer a drunk."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAs she was turned into her new partner, it took a moment to gather her wits enough to recognise him and a sudden wash of embarrassment flooded through her, causing heat to rise up her neck and pool in her cheeks.\n\n\"Lord De Lysse!\" She said, hoping her voice would not betray her shock,\"I apologise for the state I am in.\"\n\nWhat a fool she had been not to heed Samsom's warning about over drinking, now she felt as though she had embarrassed herself in her quest to ignore (or perhaps upset) her little brother.\n\nBut still, Bastien was smiling and holding out his hand for her and she felt giddy with childishness, so she took it and smiled back.\n\n\"I must admit,\" She said lowly so that only he might hear,\"I'm not very familiar with this dance.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion```\n\nThe lord thew a glance towards where Bastien had found Peraz, then stared back at Calypso. \"It appears to me that he isn't feeling undisposed at all.\"\n\nHe let go of his daughter, and began to circle the other Terreme lady. He still recalled the sight of her swirling around Bastien, like a dark moth attracted to flame. Cyprien was eager to voice his sentiments on the matter, but he resisted the urge. Admonishment would come. In due time. \n\n\"Our liege, Lutur Dumagne, has resolved himself to lead the war against the northern agressor. Naturally, his vassals are expected to bring a significant contribution. This is, after all, a war meant to defend their livelihoods and fiefdoms. With Thorne gone, who will answer in his stead?\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe Maith Mansion\n\n*That's because you didn't have to babysit him during the last half hour.* Wanted to spat Calypso. But in the end, she was glad that the young lord had found himself in the safe arbor that was Lady Peraz. Having him that drunk and unsupervised with any of the other women in this room would have brought to no good for sure. \n\nThe young woman's expression didn't change as the head of house De Lysse started to circle her, probably wanting to appear to her like a threatening vulture but all that Calypso could see was the old goat shaking his head ready to hit her. \n\nApparently, she was right. He did bring up the death of her father with a second end in mind. Calypso let out an idle chuckle as if the men's words were nothing but a joke \"My lord! Are you interested in making a soldier of me?\" Giggled with a honey-like voice. She shook her head ever so slightly, dark curls caressing her cheeks \"I don't think I'd be a good bet on the battlefield. I have been told that I have quite the talent in archery, but I'm sure that is no more than flattery.\" Spoke her still with that lite friendly voice, the kind one would expect from such a young woman. \n\n\"But that's not what you are asking is it?\" Her dark eyes lifted on those of the older man. The Temerre lady took a step forward keeping her gentle smile on and head high \"Thankfully I was not left unprepared to the possibility.\" Not because of her father's wit for sure. The man was good with business and contracts but in the matter of people managing, he lacked a lot. Her mother on the other hand...\n\"There are men in the lands that you have so graciously lent us that I'm sure will waste no time to join, swearing under your name.\" Started her taking another step. \n\n\"And if those were to not be enough, I have the names of a good number of gentlemen that would be glad to join under right payment.\" Calypso had traced The man's step standing now beside him \"I shared some already with your son when he first came to Sol to recruit men. \" The same, unchanged, gentle, and graceful smile fixed on her face as she lowered for a moment her dark eyes. \n\n\"I know I'm not a man my lord, and that I don't have much to offer. Such things would not be expected from me to take care of.\" Started her \"But I have no interest in denying my responsibilities and duties towards your house now that my father is not here anymore to take care of it.\" And she raised her eyes on him once again, dark obsidian observing Cyprien with humbleness \"That of-course...*If* You will allow me to assist you in this times, as your Vassal.\" Stated Calypso, holding her stance firmly."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "Cyprien de Lysse\nMaith Mansion\n\n\"Fear not. You will,\" Replied Cyprien. He stopped moving, right in front of Calypso, then went back to Fleur. His steps remained deliberately slow, but his body posture betrayed nervousness.\n\n\"House Kolgrim is expected to muster it's forces upon our return to Pemberlum. Do what you have to do, but I want those troops ready to move one week after our arrival. As for the mercenaries, my son will be tasked to arrange their payment.\"\n\nThis was the part where Cyprien had planned to dismiss lady Kolgrim and walk away with Fleur, but there was still a bothersome thought gnawing at the back of his mind:\n\n\"My son seems to be quite... Fond, of you.\" Cyprien struggled to come up with suitable words, instead he paused to breathe softly.\n\n\"Do not give him hope where there is none,\" He said at last.\n_\n_"
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe Maith Mansion\n\nOne week. \nWith such short notice...\nBut she still had control. \n\n*Dear Gods give me strength.* \n\nCalypso nodded with elegant humble poise \"As you wish my lord. Thank you, My Lord. \" Spoke her with the same gentle tone, taking a moment to bow for him.\n\nBut it was Cyprien's next words that brought her eyes back up to him, her smile faltering from a fraction of seconds. \nBut again, she nodded humbly. \n\"I would never dream of it, my lord.\" Murmured with a smile."
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"There is no need to apologize,\" He replied after the Terresi woman mentioned the state she was in. He was about to say *\"I'm glad at least one of us seems to be enjoying themselves,\"* But before he could she leaned forward and quietly confessed her unfamiliarity to the dance. His smile turned into a grin as he quietly squeezed her hands. He knew the dance, but he replied back, \"Neither do I.Have no fear. We'll learn it together.\"\n\nHe began to lead to the music, his steps light and precise, more fluid than one would suspect due to his normally rigid stance and stiff posture. \"How are you and Samsom enjoying the festivities?\" He glanced around them, and then lowered his voice to talk more directly into her ear. \"And dare I ask where is that toad of a brother of yours is? Far away from where he can annoy anyone, I hope.\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nLearning the dance itself became a feat of movement. Peraz's eyes had to dart between her own feet, Bastien's and the hall of islanders to keep up in a sort of drunken ballet. The ribbons that were part of the dance were little help as well. \n\n\"Brother Samsom left me with that little newt, and your father, not long ago,\" Peraz hummed as she glanced up from their feet for a moment, only to look down and then back up to nod in the direction of Lutur,\"He's sat over there, gorging himself on food, wine and women as per usual!\"\n\nThere was another spin, sending ribbons twirling like little winding rivers through the air before the women faced their partners again. The pearls of Peraz's kemenike clacked against her face and she barked out a laugh.\n\n\"Fie, I'm sorry! The drink has made me giddy and I've just been imagining Lutur with the head of a newt.\" She explained before swiftly trying to divert the conversation to Bastien,\"How is your lady Calypso? You seem very fond of her.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nMaith Mansion\n\nWhether the boy fell for his ruse or not mattered little, and honestly, Valkrin had stopped paying attention to him in favor of Cecilia's voice in his head. \n\n*There's been a few of your kind try to make me a target before, but if you insist, we can visit my estate and you're welcome to take your shot.* \n\nHis attention was quickly brought back to the privateer as Cecilia regarded him as a man whore. \"There's a use for a few thousand bastards, and putting them to work in the Navy happened to be the use.\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nBastien's smile seemed to falter slightly, but it quickly resurfaced. \"Lady Kolgrim is a very interesting woman,\" He said after a few moments. His tone was polite, as if he was speaking of someone he knew but not very well. \"Very sharp and strong-willed. Hard working and determined. I think you'd two get along quite well.\" His countenance grew more wistful, the tense smile melting into one with sad reminiscent notes. \"You both share those traits, I suppose.\"\n\nHis gaze turned to look down at her, and his expression turned a bit solemn, though the wistfulness remained. \"I was very pleased to see you again,\" He told her. \"Well, I still am. As you can see.\" It seems that the alcohol was once again showing him with his defenses lowered. As well as his ability to articulate, apparently. He cleared his throat, as if trying to smooth over his wording error. \"I, ah... I rather missed your company, when you went away. I thought of you often.\" He spoke factually, casually. Simply saying what was on his mind. \"It's wonderful to see that you're still as strong as I remember you being, all those years ago.\"\n\nWhen he said the word \"Strong,\" It sounded as though he did not mean in the physical sense.\n\nHe paused, then added as an afterthought, \"...Do you mean to tell me you don't think your little brother already possesses face eerily similar to a newt?\""
}
] | 201.5 | 3,419 |
304 | 2021-08-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake looked between the two war criminals and their continued silent conversation. By this point, he was mostly content with just sipping his ale. He had to make it at least look like he was conversing with somebody so that his lads wouldn't rag on him too much for not getting a dance yet. He was slightly caught off guard by the sudden question from Cecilia. However, Galt-Drake wasn't one to keep a conversation stagnant, so he responded quickly.\n\n\"Ah, my bad,\" Galt-Drake calmly began to state, \"I never really did tell ya my name. It's Galt-Drake. Pleasure to meet ya.\"\n\nThen, Galt-Drake was hit with a much less courteous question from the Kingslayer. Galt-Drake wasn't in the mood to be much more of an asshat towards the Captain of the Guard in Tonate, so he answered Valkrin in a straightforward manner.\n\n\"I was mainly here to talk to ye, Valkrin. Rumor has it we're both bein' kept back from the war efforts,\" Galt-Drake calmly replied, before taking another quiet sip of his mug of booze. Galt-Drake himself couldn't really think of a reason why King Bradaí kept him and Valkrin back when they were both better suited for offensive privateering, but he wasn't going to try doubting or questioning Bradaí's methods."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nMaith Mansion\n\n\"And do you typically put your faith in rumors and idle talk?\" Valkrin asked as he lit a cigar, taking a long drag. \"Pity, here I'd hoped for a captain that might've been worth his salt.\" \n\nAfter a bit of silence, and a good long look at the noblewomen that were dancing nearby, Valkrin turned his attention back to Galt-Drake. \"As for the war effort, it's got nothing to do with me. Though I live here, the Isles are not my home, merely a sanctuary. Terresol isn't my home either, and all my business there ended with Kelwynd's head in my hands.\" \n\nHe scanned the room again and stood, turning his attention to Cecilia.\n\n*Keep him busy, I want a dance with the Dragon of Falsa.*\n\nThe Captain made his way across the room, servants ducked out of his way, and most lesser nobles avoided him entirely. Upon approaching the pair he found dancing, he spoke with a loud voice. \"Excuse me, Lord Bastien, but I've got to cut in. You don't mind, do ya boy?\""
},
{
"author": "cattoebeans",
"message": "Bastien de Lysse\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAt Peraz's mention of writing him, Bastien turned his head to gaze at others dancing alongside them. His smile was bittersweet. If she had continued to write to him to him, would it have changed anything? Perhaps it would have only made him miss her more. Or perhaps things would be different now.\n\nAt the gentle dig of her elbow at his playful comment, he found his smile forming to something more genuine. And then they were interrupted.\n\n Valkrin Farensun. Bastien knew his name. The older man spoke loudly, and Bastien's face reset to its go-to expression: cold indifference. He turned to glance at the man. The gall, to call Bastien \"Boy\" And to claim that he \"Got to cut in.\" Interesting (and rather poor) choice of wording. Though with the previous loud and attention-seeking scenes Valkrin made for himself that evening, such as dramatically revealing Vronti's skull, it didn't come as much of a surprise. The man didn't seem to have much class, nor tact. Though Bastien had to admit he was a brave man, a hero, on the battlefield. But it seemed to have gone to his head. And perhaps ego.\n\nThe heir of the de Lysse paused, but his hands remained holding Peraz's as he looked over at Valkrin. \"I don't believe I should be the one you implore such a question to, Captian\" He replied nonchalantly. He turned back to gaze at Lady Peraz. \"She is the one whom you should *Ask* To dance.\" \n\n*'Not demand without giving her a chance to say no,'* He thought dryly.\n\nHe gently let go of Peraz's hands as he stayed standing beside her, his eyes were looking at her cooly, then back at Valkrin, then back to her. He wanted to be sure that Peraz wanted to dance with the other man and didn't do so only out of polite obligation or societal pressure. Especially in her current tipsy state."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou of Clan Drase\nThe Melee**\n\nKatholou lunged back into the fray, enacting precise and careful strikes onto the warriors surrounding him on all sides, using his hammer and tower shield to their fullest most efficient effect. Not long after, either by yielding or getting smacked in the face by cold metal, most of the combatants had left the field, leaving a mess of blood and broken weapons to look over the three remaining contestants: Carac the Butcher, a mighty warrior of few words that more than made up for the lack of speech with pure battle prowess, Katholou, leader of Clan Drase and first anongst Bradai's bodyguards and finally Fabian the... Titleless, a relatively unknown mercenary who, surprising everyone, had fared incredibly well in the Melee, gaining himself great respect from Lord Drase. It was this young combatant that Katholou was now squaring off with whilst Carac finished off another minor lord whose name Kath had forgotten. Seeing that there was no other threat present, he figured that there was no harm in trying to speak real quick\n\n\"You have fared well mr...?\"\n\nHe asked. \n\n\"Ah Fabian. A fine name. You have fought well and that has not escaped my gaze. Perhaps after this is all over you might want to consider coming to my office to discuss a potential new job? I am always in need for fair new soldiers\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "|Fabian Ambrose|\n\n|Sixteen Rings|\n\nFabian spun to see Katholou, which he recognized as a lord right away. Now faced with his dilemma, even though he was much to exhausted to win anyway from the string of duels he had just fought, he kept his sword low, tip almost touching the ground. As he examined the man's face he pondered on the situation, A man offering him a job in the midst of chaos, Fabian got a small smirk out of that.\n\n\"Well im glad someone saw, although I fear I cannot give you such a show now, my mind and body won't allow it. As for jobs, I would of course love to hear what you offer.\" Fabian kept his tone of voice measured- although it was accented with heaving breaths and the odd gasp. He always kept his words- tightly gripped around lords, he was, after all, a murderer to one, a Knight, but one nonetheless- even though this one couldn't possibly know that, it was a looming spectre that never escaped him- maybe because he never let it."
}
] | 297 | 1,520 |
470.166667 | 2021-08-28 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "Katholou looked at the mercenary with an indiscernible gaze, both due to years of training and the fact that he was wearing a helmet which covered most of his face. \n\n\"I see... Well i suppose that i also am not really excited for this duel. Especially considering who im supposed to fight next\"\n\nHe shot a glance towards Carac who in this moment was throwing his opponent into the crowd with a punch. Despite all the hidden tone and facial expressions Fabian would be able to tell that Katholou was in fact slightly annoyed and a bit disappointed that another fight had been denied to him, mainly because he still wanted to show everyone the prowess of Bradai's First Guard and because he wanted to personally test a potential future member of Bradai's Shield. \n\n\"Ok then. Tomorrow right before sunset. Clan Drase Manor. I see great potential in you\"\n\nHe added before waiting for him to leave the field and turning to face Carac in the final duel"
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "|Fabian Ambrose|\n\n|Sixteen Rings|\n\nFabian didn't need to glance at Carac to know whom he was going to fight, and sighed a breath of relief. Seizing up at the prospect that he would still need to duel this lord- he guessed at-least it would not be at the behest of the eyes of a thousand viewers. In a smooth motion he stepped back, the serene moment of peace in the midist of the battle ending when he put away his blade and slipped off the field, making his yielding known."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nSixteen Rings, Southern Isles\n\nCarac turned to face his final opponent. He had heard of this one, the leader of some guard or something, a cocksucker in the service of the king of these isles. Carac hated men like this more than any others, men who devoted themselves to another's service entirely, for they were not men at all. They allowed themselves to be devoured by the idea of another, their dreams, their ambitions, all thrown into the pyre for the ambitions of their master. \nCarac was a mercenary, his life was nothing but serving other men and their ambitions, but at the end of the day he did what he did for himself, and none other. Men like this Katholou, they barely existed besides to enact the whims of their masters. \n\nHe stood still, the bloodstains and dropped weapons littering the deck around them. From the sidelines, people watched in silence, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Carac twirled his mace in his hand, then charged at Katholou, swinging his weapon in a wide arc towards the man's chest with enough force to dent armor and crack bone. Carac was the butcher of south feyshore, it was time for this man to learn exactly why they called him that."
},
{
"author": "witchwithissues",
"message": "Lady Anna Barrmount\nMaith Mansion\n\nShe looked at the improvised gift, and then back at Kirk's face. This man had done nothing but help her since they met, even agreed to a sudden marriage. The poor man went from selling antiques to enduring the complex web of problems that nobility had to go through. Kept her safe and tried to make her happy. All for a girl he didn't know before marriage. \n\nShe put her hands over his and smiled.\n\n\"You've already done more than enough.\" She took the improvised gift \"I have to do this myself.\"\n\nShe awaited patiently in line, until her turn finally came and she was able to face Bradai, bowing as greeting.\n\n\"As my husband wisely advised me, I have been staying within these walls under this disguise you see before your eyes.\" She spoke quietly to Bradai and nearby ears \"But now, I show myself to present my gift to you.\" It was time for the diplomatic and fighter side of House Barrmount to finally be used by the young woman \"If you're so kind as to close the mansion doors, we can reach an agreement that will be beneficial to not only your ties with Lord Marshall Carter, but also Ibbish lands.\"\n\nShe cleared her throat before continuing. This could end really badly or wonderfully good.\n\n\"Under your roof, you have the family that has aided the crashing of my little brother's funeral, a poor child taken from us by the hands of the plague; the family that has helped Nathaniel Vivayn crush the north, taking the opportunity to hit harder after the plague left everyone weak and in need of help. Now they are here, half across the world, crashing your ball the same way the crashed my brother's funeral to siege our castle. The Skagerllys bring destruction wherever they go, even to the most vulnerable moment of my House as we mourned the loss of our youngest.\"\n\nShe swallowed hard as she did a pause, trying to keep the facade of confidence while she panicked inside \"I, Lady Anna Barrmount of the Iron Plaines, on behalf of my House, my husband Lord Kirk Pinewood of High Hexrakes, and as part of the court of Queen Lucrezia Scheer of Ibethiel,\" She was playing with stakes that were higher than she ever thought about \"Offer you, not only the allyship and loyalty of House Barrmount, and of part of the court of Queen Lucrezia, for as long as the world stays alive; but also the opportunity to give back a favor to Lord Marshall Carter, friend of House Maith that has done great favors to you, and that will be delighted when he sees that his honorable friend Bradai Maith has aided him against Vivayn and the Skagerllys. In exchange, I humbly request your help in getting revenge for my house, my brother, and my land, by imprisoning the members of house Skagerlly.\" She bowed her head down as a sign of respect towards Bradai, praying for this to work."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nThe dance and conversation had made Peraz all but ignore everything else as twirling ribbons had created a shield from the world. It was only when someone stopped them, and asked Bastien if he may dance with her that she came back to the earth.\n\nShe was a split second from near enough telling the man to piss off when she saw his face. His voice had been unrecognisable but his face was that of legend in Falsa. Even more so in the halls of the Ramna.\n\n\"Thank you, Lord Bastien,\" She said, suddenly sober as she bowed lower than she ever had for her brother, perhaps even for the pirate king, for the man before her,\"But I would be honoured to dance with he who killed my father's murderer.\"\n\nHer eyes scanned the man's face as she'd only seen him from afar. The faded scars of a poppy brand on each temple stood out like sore thumbs. A sure sign this was Valkrin Farensun.\n\nPeraz rose to her feet and gave him her hand."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai-Daran Maith and the Little Princess, Fleur Vortigern\n The Royal Balcony, The Water Gardens\n\n\n His wives were streaming off the balcony when the servants came out from the castles with the ribbons. All of them grabbed members of the court, fathers, notable Privateers, or eachother, and pointing out men and women, Lordly or otherwise, to join them on the balcony in the next song. Alma Dwyer ousted her great father from his seat at the high table, and from then on, neither of them were caught without a ribbon in their hands. Lella-Long Lanterns danced by herself in an admittedly stunning display, streaks of crimson, yellow, and orange silk spun at her command. Bathsheba Mims embraced her mother, who was equally tall and equally dour, in a long, mournful embrace. The Fuller wife and the Whipper wife danced together. It was only when the Little Princess, Fleur Vortigern, asked _him_ to dance that he was finally broken out of his stupor. \n\n\"Uncle Bradai?\" \n\nHe had so much to drink that he had not noticed her tiny hand on the back of his own, moving to gently tug at his sleeve when he turned. Bradai smiled at the sight of her, and with his other hand, waved on the servant girl who had decided to present a gift. \n\n\"Can we _please_ go and see the dancers?\" She looked to the wives in their colorful raiments and back to the Pirate King, \"Please, your Majesty?\"\n\nThe Pirate King stood from his chair, looking past the Princess and to Caderyn, \"I don't suppose you will join us, Ser?\" His hand gripped the back of the chair as he rose to his feet. He felt a smile creep across his face, \"Vhere are many beautiful Islander women 'ere vhat 'ave dreams uff beautiful Terresi castles.\" \n\n\"Of course,\" The knight replied, dutiful as ever. \n\n\"Lighten up, Caderyn—\" The Pirate King smiled, taking the girl's fingers in his own, \"It's my festival, what is vhere to fea—\"\n\n*\"I have been staying within these walls under this disguise you see before your eyes.\"*\n\n\"What?\" The Pirate King said, watching as the servant girl threw off her robes to reveal none other than Anna Pinewood, the Lady of Castle Barrmount. \n\nWhen the disguise was lifted, the Pirate King could hear his court brace, sliding their bolts into place and raising the crossbows to meet the girl. Swords slid ever so lightly from their sheaths But then he began to clap, pleased at the illusion. It was an impressive trick to be sure, but as she continued, his face grew dark. As he listened to her say her piece, he thought about what the realm would think of this, the outrage that would inspire the North to raise their swords against him. Felix Carter had begun a war against his brother, plunging their realm into disarray, all on the assumption that one day he would get involved. With the Ibbish moving so far North to strike, the newfound frailty in the Weeping Pit would only serve to open up the lands to further attacks and enmity towards the South. The war might not just continue, it could grow into a multi-national debacle the likes of which had never before been seen. Hells, the Iron Plaines could secede all together.\n\nAnd then the Pirate King had an idea, and his mouth spread into an awful, wonderful, overjoyed smile. \n\n\"Yeah,\" He nodded, letting go of the little girl's hand and picking the cigar off of his table and plucked it in the side of his mouth. \"I fink vhat's a wonderful idea.\" \n\nHe cleared this throat, \"Are there any leal Clansmen 'ere wiff me, 'ere to serve vheir King?\" \n\nAnd at once, the hall was filled with men at the ready to bruise, bludgeon and bloody any Skaggery or Skaggery guest they could get their hands on. \n\n\"Captain Valkrin, Captain Galt-Drake, Kath—\" He searched around for the head of his guard, and remembered that he was fighting on Sixteen Rings. \"Any man vhat wants my favor should escort my new wards to a tower cell, somefing comfortable and well-lit. I will not 'ave it said vhat that savage Pirate King abused a guest in 'is own 'ome. Barbaric shit, terrible, and not true. In fact, pat vhem down. We do not need anyone making any mistakes. Make sure vhey did not make tha mistake to bring concealed weaponry in my 'all, and to avoid vhem making the second, more deadly mistake, of using vhat naked steel in my 'all. If you use naked steel in my—\"\n\nThe Pirate King moved to continue, but paused as he looked down at the crown Princess, who had not seemed to grasp the situation fully. \n\n\"Uncle Bradai, are they—?\" The little girl was confused, but her uncle placed a hand upon her shoulder. \n\n\"Look,\" The Pirate King motioned to the girl, \"Vhere are children 'ere. You would not spill blood in front of a child.\" He tapped her lightly on the arm, \"Cover your ears, milady.\" \n\nThe Pirate King raised his voice, barking a command \"If vhere are any children in my 'all, cover your ears!\" \n\nAnd sure enough, the Princess, along with a dozen or so handmaids and servingboys, all wards in service to the Pirate King, covered their ears. \n\nWhen he knew they couldn't hear him, he continued, \"If you use naked steel in my 'all, I will personally cut vhose rings off your fucking fingers. I am a man uff my word, I promise you. And maybe I'll 'ave you try on some from your stolen chest first. Anyfing can be used to prove to your favher vhat I am a man uff my word. I would prefer your signature, maybe a ring, but I could use some more fingers.\"\n\nWhen the Pirate King stopped talking, the children all removed the hands from the sides of their heads and continued on, serving and chatting. His men moved in to capture the three Skaggerlies, the Envoy, and the King of the Sea. \n\n\"Well, make quick about it, vhen. A small group of Norvhern brigands sneaking into my 'all, nuffink more. The Princess 'as asked me to dance.\""
}
] | 249.5 | 2,821 |
688.222222 | 2021-08-29 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nVik peered down the crossbow at the woman who was accusing him.\n\n\"I'm sorry, but who in the world is Prince Nickles? I'm Tiny Vik! I'm here for the feast, representing the Archon of Akno in Terresol.\" He crossed his arms in a huff and looked to the Visionary standing to his right, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said \"This is unbelievable.\"\n\n\"Yo-ho, Critten, look thar, I spies me a leg, when Nickles should have a peg.\" An older guard with an eyepatch scratched at an unwashed beard.\n\nThe woman, Critten, lowered her crossbow a bit as she peered down at Vik's legs, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Vik picked up the edges of his robe to allow her a better view of his two, intact, ankles.\n\n\"Aye, he does have both legs.\" She almost sounded disappointed he wasn't a criminal, letting out a quiet sigh.\n\n\"Last time I checked, Yes.\" Vik grumbled.\n\n\"Well what do you want, kid?\" Critten snapped.\n\n\"I already *Told* You, I'm here for the feast. I'm here for the Archon of Akno. I have an invitation.\" Vik produced a roll of parchment with the Maith seal from his satchel.\n\n\"It *Looks* Authentic.\" She looked over to the bearded man. \"It could be a trick. What should we do?\"\n\n\"Yar, let them in, they be having the invite.\" He said, waving at Critten.\n\n\"Fine.\" Critten said, handing the invitation back.\n\nVik bowed, stashed the parchment away, and strolled inside followed by the Visionary who was carrying a small oaken box carved with a floral design.\n\nThey only made it a few feet inside before a call was let out across the courtyard in Silvertongue. Vik braced for the worst before realizing that call was being repeated throughout the castle. The gates slammed shut behind the pair, large bars being locked into place. Above them the windows of the Maith Dome were being shut and chained closed.\n\n\"Well, looks like we arrived just in time,\" Vik said, walking towards the main mansion.\n\n\"Honestly, 'Prince Nickles?' What a silly name.\" Vik muttered to himself as the pair walked towards the ballroom.\n\n\"Coming from 'Tiny Vik,'\" His Visionary pointed out.\n\n\"'Tiny Vik,' is a lovely name. Quite possibly the best name ever!\" He huffed, making a sound that was similar to exhaling sharply out of your nose.\n\nThe Visionary said nothing else, probably holding in laughter behind that ironically laughing mask they wore. They missed their opportunity to say anything, however, as the pair approached the doors, and another set of guards. These guards were much easier to get by, simply opening the door to the ballroom and making a snarky remark about being late to the couple.\n\n\"Finally,\" Vik began \"We finally made it, my friends. Let's try to lie low for the time being, let the wine flow before making a scene shall we?\"\n\nThe Pirate King was in the middle of a tirade.\n\n\"It seems the air is tenser than we would hope.\" Vik couldn't hold in a giggle, trying to cover his mouth as it escaped."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nMaith Mansion \n\nThe Ambereye was just about to return the bow that Lady Peraz had given him, when from across the room, he heard his name called. \n\n\"Forgive me, Lady Dumagne, but I'll return momentarily.\" He turned from the woman and began to make his way to where the Skhaggerlies were standing, his elite squad behind him. \n\nUpon approaching the people he was tasked with escorting out, he spoke with a low tone, \"King Maith has ordered no steel be drawn but I assure you, if you draw steel in this hall, I'll cave your fucking skulls in with my bare hands. Whether there are children or not.\" This ball was supposed to be one of peace and unity, but Valkrin had no problem with it becoming one of bloodshed. Turning to his men, he gave his orders in their silent hand signals. \n\n*Strip them of weapons, take them to the tower. No blood.* \n\nValkrin made a line across his palm, a 'never mind' to his last signal, and made a new one. \n\n*No blood, **Yet**.*\n\n\"Galt-Drake, oversee these people to their rooms. And for the love of the Tides Bearer,\" He shouted, \"Let's get the fuck back to dancing.\" \n\nThe Captain strode back through the crowd to the Dragon of Falsa, extending his hand upon approach. \"My apologies, dear, now where were we?\""
},
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nAs soon as the Pirate King came out and addressed the court, Galt-Drake immediately took his attention off of his mysterious table companion to listen attentively, whilst also remaining aware of his own surroundings. As soon as Bradaí mentioned Galt-Drake by _name,_ Galt-Drake leapt up from his seat, hands twitching as if ready to kill for his liege. The mention of escorting wards was noted, and when Bradaí was done speaking, Galt-Drake swiftly stepped away from the table, now radically different from the calm and jovial ale-drinking man he'd been just moments ago. Cecilia could easily notice that the young man's movements were far more decisive, quick, and machine-like than he'd initially let on. It was like being addressed directly by King Bradaí flipped a switch in the privateer's brain that kicked him into overdrive. He briefly and fastidiously checked every single weapon, of which there were many, on his person. The privateer then put two fingers in his mouth and let out a quick, sharp whistle that reached as far out as the balcony. Galt-Drake's crewmates rushed to attention, some of them even having to politely halt their ongoing dances to come to the call of their Captain. Galt-Drake looked around for guards, of which he found several. Galt-Drake approached two of them with his crew in tow, delivering to the men a simple and discreet order.\n\n\"You, on the left. Shut the gates immediately. The rest of ya, head ta the Sixteen Rings and bring Mallwreck Shkaggerfuck or whatever his damn name is back here,\" Galt-Drake quietly ordered. The two men nodded and ran off to do their ordered tasks. The first guard made it to the gates, promptly shutting them, barring any conventional access to the main castle. The other guards made their way out towards the Sixteen Rings, heading towards the ship in search of Mallsrek Skagerlly, who was fighting in the grand melee.\n\nGalt-Drake watched as the guards went out to do what they had to do, and once they'd left the Mansion, Galt-Drake was confident that the guards were hopping to it. Galt-Drake turned to look over at Valkrin, who'd gone on an initiative of his own and subsequently called to him to finish up escorting the Skagerllies to their temporary fineries. Galt-Drake nodded, and with his men at his side, he rendezvoused with some of Valkrin's. The merged squads met momentarily before going to their separate tasks, and with barely any words, the orders were exchanged from Valkrin's men to Galt-Drake and his own posse. Galt-Drake nodded curtly in recognition and walked over towards the Skagerllies, flanked by his crewmates. Galt-Drake carried more of an elegant and youthful kind of swagger about the way he walked and presented himself as he approached this situation, as if he were confident in both his abilities and the ability of his crew to enforce King Bradaí's orders. Galt-Drake met the Skagerllies present at the court, his hands casually at his side, with the very occasional and hardly noticeable twitch of a finger being any remote indicator of the privateer's readiness for the absolute worst to occur. If anyone _dared_ to draw steel in King Bradaí's halls, Galt-Drake would be more than happy to address it.\n\n\"Good day, me dear men and women of tha Skagerlly family. I'm Galt, and I'm here to escort ya to yer fineries fer the time bein',\" Galt-Drake casually delivered, as if nothing was really out of the ordinary. He continued, asking in a rather polite but firm tone, \"Would ya kindly follow me lads and I?\""
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Maren Definitely-Not-Skagerlly-Holy-Fuck and a confused Puckgordon Snæch\nThe Maith Ball\n\nMaren had just been dealing with a plate of cheese and pickled fish on dry crackers when her fingers grew numb unexpectedly. Her head shot up, searching around for someone she recognized. A feeling of dread overtook her as she slowly set the plate down on the floor that she sat on, and stood up carefully with her hands pressed against her chest. She waddled away from the table and held her breath. For the first time since going so south, sweat perforated underneath her shaggy bangs. Something was happening! But what? \n\nShe inched toward the door, but as she did, a slew of guards and men sworn to the king made their way around the tables. She looked around to see them making their way toward the Skagerlly table. Maren's heart stopped for a moment before it picked up the pace altogether. \"Pa—Uh...!\" She began to say, but she closed her mouth. She had to think long and hard about this. Shaydrin. He wasn't really her father. She was his... Good luck charm. \n-\n\nShe cringed, gazing down at her feet adorned in soft satin sandals. Everything she had was given to her by these folk. Well, except for the marble. She reached into her pocket. Would now be a good time to use it? She lifted it out and held it in the palm of her hand. Vik told her to use it if she needed him. She took a deep breath, carrying it gently as she stepped forward.\n\nOnly to be ran into by a boy donned in dark clothing. It was accidental, by all accounts, but perhaps everything happened for a reason. \"Ah! Fuckin'...\" Came a grumpy response lisped through missing front teeth. \n\nThe marble was smacked out of her hand, and it fell. Maren gasped in desperation as she begged it not to shatter. It had been with her all this time! By the Gods' will, it didn't, but it rolled between the feet of the very boy that she ran into. She fell to her knees and took it sharply, putting it in her pocket. She didn't know how to respond, her eyes peeking up to meet a pair of darling blues.\n-\n\nPuck was worked up already from everything that had happened and what he was told to do that he didn't know how to react to anything outside that realm. But here he was in a staring contest with a tiny little baby girl. She looked more terrified than kids usually were coming face to face with him. It drew his curiosity. He cocked his head to the side, and he crouched down, his snake still coiled around his collar like a disturbing ornament. \"And what in the damn's a matter with you? You stupid or something? Little girl? Hello?\" He reached out and flicked her forehead as Maren simply stared into his eyes.\n\nMaren felt this... Profound essence wafting off of Puckgordon. It stank like dead swamp water and blackened charcoal and shadowy elixirs. She felt her bottom lip tremble, her hand reaching up and placing a hand on his chest as she sniffles. \"Why... Why are you so sad?\" She quivered, big tears sitting at the corners of her eyes like bright pearls.\n-\n\nPuck's lips parted as she stared at her. What the fuck. His brow furrowed. \"I'm not...\" He didn't finish a sentence as the little thing took his collar, her other hand moving from his chest to his face. The snake did nothing to apprehend the sudden movement.\n\n\"My heart hurts when I look at you. I feel so sad. My heart hurts. You're like me, huh? Don't have a family. Is that why it hurts?\"\n\nThe last thing Puckgordon needed was this little shit speaking profound emotional truths at a time like this. Where was this coming from? He took her hand away from his face and shook his head. \"I haven't a clue what the fuck you're talking about!\" He seethed. \"I've never met you in my life!\"\n\nMaren's brow furrowed \"But... Perhaps we met before that?\"\n-\n\n*What?* Puck tilted his head as a guard knelt down and whispered in his ear. His eyes darted off. Apprehending Skagerllies? The little fucking snowflakes. He couldn't help a small twitch of a grin. \"Yes, ser.\" He said back, standing. He looked down at the weird little girl that still had her hand in his. \"You know the Skagerllies like you know me?\" He said lowly.\n\nMaren froze with clenched jaw. She furrowed her brow. \"....Yes.\" She said breathily. \"Shaydrin's playing pretend that I'm his daughter but I'm not.\" She said softly. She kept her head lowered. \"But I'm not supposed to tell anyone but now I'm scared because I feel like bad things are happening and my heart hurts and-\"\n\nPuck cut her off by squeezing her hand. \"Did you have a choice?\" He sounded serious. He pulled her off to the side and made it so his shadow covered her as more guards walked through, taking signals from Valkrin. He looked behind him. \"Listen, girl. They want to take all the Skagerllies and lock 'em up. They'll be nice to 'em but I guess the Skagerllies hurt a lot of people. I have a hard time thinking you would wanna hurt someone. So tell me who you really are. If you're not a Skagerlly then who are you? Why do they want you here with 'em?\"\n-\n\nMaren was a tad overwhelmed and the pearly tears that sat on the corner of her icy eyes poured over, her face contorting into one of pain, frustration. She couldn't help but sob as she let go of his hand to cross her arms in a sense of self-comfort. \"I'm... I'm just scared! I can't. I just... I want to be okay! I don't want to hurt anyone!\" She said through tears. She began to sink to sit on her hind quarters when she was suddenly scooped up by the teen boy, holding her close. \n\nPuck sighed through his broken teeth, a windy whistle passing through as he looked around, hoping that she didn't cause a scene. A server had begun to peek over, causing Puck to put on a sweet and unassuming face, albeit a tad concerned. \"The little Lady lost her mummy. I'll take care of her, carry on.\" That was enough for the server. Puckgordon was, after all, very close to the Seneschal. Puck turned his attention to the soft-hearted little girl. \"You're not in trouble, girl. Just shut up. Hey, do you see my necklace? It's a snake, he's my friend. But I haven't named him...\"\n‐\n\nMaren looked at him and the iridescent snake that coiled comfortably around Puck's collar. She furrowed her brow. \"You haven't named him?\" She said softly. Puck began looking around. The instruments were hardly playing a tune now that the dances were being shoved around and interrupted every other minute. He sighed through his teeth again. \n\n\"No, I haven't. Can you think of one?\" He said simply. He began making his way toward the orchestra in the corner. \n\nMaren sniffled as she placed her fingertips on the top of the snake's head. \"...You want me to?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm no good at names. I have a silly name myself. Puckgordon. A long silly name.\" He said half-mindedly. He was focused on getting the little thing comfortable enough to let him know of her kidnappers' plans. He marched toward the band as he heard a soft hum from Maren as her attention was put toward the thought of long silly names and names that fit snakes well. \n-\n\n\"I like your name, Puckgordon. It sounds like a fancy name. You must be a prince. My name is Maren.\" She said softly. \"I think his name is Drystan.\" She said softly. \"Drystan is your snake's name. He told me.\"\n\nPuck paused for a moment. \"I'm not a fucking prince. That would be boring. People call me Puck. It's a lot shorter and people like to make fun of it. But I don't take that shit.\" He said shortly. He stopped and looked at her as he stood before the orchestra. \"Okay. I didn't hear him say anything. Can you talk in his head?\"\n\n\"It's just a feeling...\" Maren was unsure how to explain her intuitive senses. It was heightened by the fact she was a lonely and imaginative child. She looked at Puck and then looked around, finally glancing behind her as she rubbed tears from her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder. \n‐\n\nPuck cringed at the fact that this little kid had already decided he was good enough to snuggle up to. He was the youngest in his family, he never had the opportunity to baby younger siblings or cousins. He snapped out of it, looking at the band. \"Play... Uh. Something pretty.\" He told the conductor. \"Your prettiest song.\" \n\nThe conductor was confused for a moment, it didn't seem people necessarily were dancing around, but as he laid his eyes on the girl in Pucks arms, it clicked and he nodded. It was perfect timing, as Fleur had just asked the King to dance as well on the other side of the hall. The song welled into a soft and lovely sound, chimes and high plucked strings making it a happier tune. Plenty of people heard the song and let out an exclaim, standing to truly get this ball a going. \n\nPuckgordon took her out to the floor that was steadily filling with people, and set her down on her feet. \"Uhm...\" Puck furrowed his brow. \"I don't really know how to dance well. Do you?\" He asked, looking quite concerned.\n-\n\nMaren held his hands in hers and looked up at him. \"I never danced before.\" She said quietly. \"Never ever...\" She looked around at the men and women sweeping around the floor in elegant displays. She looked dazed, watching them with admiration and minor confusion. \"This is dancing?\"\n\nPuck looked at Maren with his own confusion. A young girl who never danced? Even his bitch sisters danced around their rooms from time to time. He didn't feel too much pity for her, though. He simply leaned back and pulled her off her feet, swinging her around. He had a crash course on dancing, before this, but he was hardly good. Silas had called him charmingly terrible. He placed Maren's hand in his and picked her up so they were face to face with his other arm. \"Uh, so basically, you just move to the music. Right? That's all dancing is. And you take steps like... One! Two! Three!\" He swung her about.\n-\n\nAlthough Puck wasn't even trying to be silly, Maren couldn't help but smile and even softly chuckle at his attempt, the fun feeling of being swung around heartily by the new friend was fun. She held on for dear life as Puck tried to dance. \n\n\"One! Two! Three!\" Puck told her, swinging her around and lifting her up and twirling around. He even cracked his own little grin at her amusement. He slowed down and set her back on her feet. \n\nMaren jumped a little. \"Can you show me how to dance, Puck?\" She asked. \n\n\"Well, I'm not the one to teach you. I'm bad at it.\"\n\n\"No, you're fun at it!\" Maren jumped and looked at him, her smile beginning to fade. Wait, the people she came with... Where were they? She swallowed and looked around again. \n-\n\nPuck saw her energy fading and he stammered. \"Uh! Uh... I can try to teach you. M-Maren, look at me.\" He felt his face upturn in a smile. \"Look, Drystan liked dancing with you as well.\" He knelt down and uncoiled the snake, holding it out to her. Surrounded by dancing lords and ladies, Maren held out her own hand, to let the snake slither onto her arm. Drystan was already the length of her arm and then some, slithering into her shoulder like a unique and lovely scarf. Maren was now focused on remaining still as Drystan seemed to just keep moving back around and over to Puck again. \"He's trying to dance with you but he doesn't got any legs.\" Puck chuckled, taking her hands again. \"Look, little girl. It'll be okay. Will you dance with me some more?\"\n\nMaren's face fell over a thousand emotions as she looked at the smiling face of Puck. She had been heartbroken so many times. She trusted everyone that ever spoke to her. She looked into Pucks eyes, searching for another motive. Did he really like her? Were they friends? Her lips parted and she looked down. \"Yeah. I will. Can you swing me around again?\" She said timidly.\n\nPuck sighed through his teeth, pretending to think long and hard about her request. \"S'pose.\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"I believe I was accepting a request for a dance?\" Peraz said, placing her hand upon his extended one. \n\nThe Dragon had not been listening entirely to the events in the hall, she was busy wrecking her brain for everything she knew of Captain Valkrin Farensun, but the drink had left her at a disadvantage even though she felt entirely sober now.\n\n\"I apologise, Captain. My knowledge of Islander dance is not very wide and I'm rather out of practice. I pray, forgive me should I step on your feet.\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nSixteen Rings, Tonate Proper\n\nCarac was halfway to Katholou when Maith guards broke through the crowd, pushing aside the guests and squires, forming a blockade in front of the gangplank, ensuring no one could leave the grand barge. Carac stopped in his tracks, his mace and shield falling to his side as his attention turned to the newcomers. \n\n\"IN THE NAME OF KING BRADAI MAITH OF THE ISLES, SEIZE THAT MAN!\" Yelled one of the men, judging by his uniform and decorations, he was the one in charge here. He stuck out a black-gloved finger, pointing with the fervor and dignity one would assume of a bootlicking toady directly at the arena. \nFor a moment, Carac thought it was him they were after. Had Ferdinand done something? Did the new monarch of Feyshore want to make an example of him? He tensed his muscles before he noticed that the accusation was not aimed at him, but at another of his opponents. A mountain of muscle draped in plate and furs, wielding an axe and coated in blood. Carac chuckled, Skaggerly. He had heard of the clan, who in his line of work had not? They had a reputation for brutality and bloodshed, worse even than Caracs. Though It seemed their reputation had finally caught up to them, that was the trouble with legends, the bigger you got, the more people wanted to see you fall.\n\nCarac turned to face the man in question, he didn't know which Skaggerly this was, but it didn't much matter. He was surrounded, armed with a blunted weapon, and tired from the fight. He had no chance of getting out of this, the only question was who would get the glory for capturing him. \nWell, that was no question at all, was it?\nCarac raised a fist, a universal gesture that anyone would recognize, \"Hold\". He aimed his mace at Skaggerly, and then dropped into a fighting stance. This was still a melee, and Skaggerly was his to beat, a duel between warriors. Whose legend would prove greater? The Butcher of Feyshore vs the madman of clan Skaggerly, a fight to remember."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou Goldgather,\nThe Melee, Southern Isles**\nKatholou prepared to receive Carac's mighty blow with his big shield, essentially blocking off any other sound or distraction as he got ready for the hard duel to come. Carac was no easy prey and if he was to be defeated then full focus would be required. Suddenly though the enemy warrior stopped in it's tracks, causing Katholou to also snap back to reality in time to see and hear the guards approaching. Upon hearing mention of Bradai's and Skaggerly's name he snapped around, fixing his gaze upon he who had somehow dared to defy the will of the greatest of all kings. The Leader of Clan Drase was literally unable to fathom the thought that someone would be willing to go against such an objectively righteous rule. Nevertheless he kept his cool as this was a delicate situation that required all of the calmness he could muster \n\n\"Godswill! The King's will has spoken!\"\n\nHe shouted. Immediately the entirety of his retinue rushed into the arena, weapons at the ready, getting behind him as he once again spoke.\n\n\"I am sorry Carac but i cannot risk this man suffering severe damage and therefore escaping righteous judgement nor can i afford to give him the chance to gain any advantages, no matter how highly i think of your skills.\"\n\nHe told the mercenary before turning towards his second in command\n\n\"Seize him!\"\n\nHe shouted, pointing at Skaggerly\n\n\"Do not let him escape!\"\n\nHe added before advancing towards the criminal, weapons drawn"
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nSixteen Rings, Tonate Proper\n\nCarac grabbed Katholou by the shoulder. His gauntleted hand dug deep, even through armor and plate the force behind those massive hands could be felt, like twin hammers strapped at the end of his arms. It would be clear for anyone to see, this man, this *Thing* Was made for this. One could not even see his eyes behind the slits of his helmet, as if someone had taken great effort to remove any traces of humanity that once lingered in his figure. He was there for one reason, to win this melee, and nothing would change that, not the will of any gods or the demands of any king. \n\nCarac looked down on Katholou, the twin shadows peering at the smaller man from within his steel helm, and then he spoke. \nHis voice was deep and torn, the voice of a man who had only known violence for all his days, the voice of a thousand scars and a thousand deaths, one who had choked on ash and dust and bled in pits of mud and corpses, and it spoke a single word. \n\"No\"\n\nAnd without a second glance, Carac stepped forward to meet his opponent in battle. In the palace, the music was swelling, the orchestra playing their most lovely tunes to cover the sounds of violence as the Maith guards searched for the skaggerlys. But on the Sixteen Rings, there would be no orchestra to hide the violence, there would only be the voice of the butcher, and the death that followed."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou of Clan Drase, \nSixteen Rings, The Melee**\n\nFor but a second Katholou looked up at Carac in anger. How dared such a puny little weasel of a man who served no purpose other than to kill and gain coin \nTell him, Katholou Of Clan Drase, First of the Bodyguards, Leader of Bradai's Shield, The White Peacock and Defender of the Capital, \"No\"? Who was he to defy the will of Bradai?! Godswill put a hand on the hilt of his own sword, waiting for the order to cut down Carac where he stood but Katholou waved him off \n\n\"Form a perimeter around these two.\"\n\nHe told him bluntly before turning towards the mercenary once again, this time with a calmer tone\n\n\"The moment i see you getting the back foot or about to kill him i intervene and cut this shit short\"\n\nHe said bluntly before backing off and joining his companions who in the meantime had created a bit of a wide circle around Skaggerly and Carac as more guards blocked the exits."
}
] | 323 | 6,194 |
511.1 | 2021-08-30 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nMaith Mansion \n\n\"There's no forgiveness needed, many a man would die for the chance you might step on their toes in a dance.\" He winked his glass eye and smiled, as the pair began to dance to the best of his knowledge. \"It's been many a year since I've danced myself, but as two of the most famous Terrime in the room, I've no doubt the others will keep their mouths shut if we mess up.\" \n\nThe two continued the dance in silence for a moment, before Valkrin began to speak again. \"I didn't know your father, nor did I know he'd been murdered by Kelwynd, but I am glad my actions gave closure to at least someone. Though if we're being honest, as liquor tends to make oneself, there are days I regret removing the bastard's head. Haven't had a purpose like that since it happened, it'd be nice to have purpose again.\" He shook his head at his own words, confused on why he even gave the information. \n\n\"But enough of that shit, how are things in our homeland?\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Two of the most famous Terreme? You flatter me, Captain.\" Said Peraz, an almost amused expression taking over her as she relaxed into the conversation. The captain did not seem so legendary to be intimidating in the moment of conversation.\n\nHis next words were a little... Unnerving. To regret killing a monster like Vronti for the sake of having something to do felt a hollow reason, though she had many purposes in life and perhaps it was beyond her imagination to be without any.\n\n\"The only regret I have about it,\" She spoke as the strings of pearls from her kemenike clicked together with the movement of the dance,\"Is that I was not the one to remove it myself. I was barely a whelp then, however.\"\n\n\"Northwind's army is amassing in the south and Falsa finds itself on the verge of an invasion. My fool of a brother-\" Peraz's voice had started to rise before she caught herself and averted her eyes from the captain.\"I apologise once more. The drink has not made me myself. I do not mean to speak ill of my lord-Brother.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"You don't need to worry yourself with proper mannerisms, dear,\" Valkrin spoke softly as the pair continued to move about the floor, \"You're in the Isles, among pirates and sellswords, and in the arms of a man barred from your nation. If none of that bothers you, I believe a truthful comment about your brother will go quite unnoticed.\" \n\nHe stopped for a moment to take a drink from the bottle he'd stashed in his coat pocket, then resumed the dance. \n\n\"Admittedly, I'd have paid a great deal to watch you cleave the head off that bastard. Beautiful as you are, I'm sure you'd look better with a sword in your hand.\" The Captain chuckled at his joke, scanning about the room before returning his gaze to Peraz's."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nRegardless of the captain's intentions and kind words, Peraz needed to remember herself. She was the eldest child of Baldarian Dumagne and she would not dishonour him by speaking ill of her family to others.\n\n\"I don't know if I look any better with a sword than without but i'd certainly feel a good deal safer.\" She admitted as their dance resumed. It had become a habit on Togaira to carry a sword on all manner of days, grabbing the hilt had become a thing of grounding in moments of paranoia or unrest. Besides, if she had brought her sword she would have been able to partake in the melee.\n\n\"Tell me, Captain. Do you miss Falsa? Or have you found the isles to be more of a home?\" Peraz asked with an easy smile. It wasn't often she spoke with a Terreme who no longer lived in Terresol, and as one of the less well-travelled Dumagnes, she wanted to learn what she could of the world."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher and Mallsrek Skaggerly \nSixteen Rings, Tonate Proper\n\nThe grand melee had gone to hell. The guests were running from the barge in varying states of panic, as guards rushed in to replace them, the last two opponents standing in the barren arena, a wall of spears and shields ensuring the only way one would leave is when the other fell. King Bradai Maith had called for the capture of Mallsrek Skaggerly, and Carac the butcher had taken it upon himself to collect the brute. Mallsrek, for his part, was loath to refuse a chance to work out the last of his bloodlust. \n\nThe lord of clan Skaggerly had in his hands a massive two-handed axe, blunted for the melee, but a deadly weapon in it's own right, as many this day had learned. There was little doubt he would be captured this day, but Mallsrek doubted it would be this armor-clad fool who would take him in. He had heard of the one they called \"The Butcher of Feyshore\", and he was less than impressed. A single castle of women and children put to sword and everyone thought he was some sort of monster? Mallsrek had killed ten times that, he would crack open this fool's armor and eat him raw.\n\nCarac shifted his weight, holding his shield up and his mace at the ready. He knew all about clan Skaggerly, about their leader and the rivers of blood that trailed behind him, about his legend. *Legend*, that was why Carac had done this, not just the melee, but insisting on dueling Mallsrek on his own. He had come to this melee to win, to prove that the Butcher of Feyshore could not be defeated, to give truth to the legend. If he let these guards take away Skaggerly, the melee would end, and he would be forgotten as just another man shoved to the side as they dragged away this criminal. So he would stand and fight, pit his legend against another, and see whose was stronger.\n\nMallsrek made the first move, charging towards his armored opponent with a roar, bringing down the axe with incredible force. Carac moved his shield up to stop the blow, intercepting the blade with a resounding clang that echoed throughout the Sixteen Rings. Mallsrek was undeterred, swinging again and again, his blade a blur as it rained down blow after blow on Carac's shield. The Lord of Clan Skaggerly yelled with blood-rage, he could smell his victory approaching, and the blood of this fool would soon be spilled. \nCarac kept his shield up as the sound of metal on metal echoed within his helmet. He was at a disadvantage, Mallsrek's large axe gave him reach that allowed him to remain out of range of Carac's mace as long as Carac kept his shield up. He considered putting his shield down, but he could feel the force of the blows from his opponent, and if one hit correctly, even Carac might fall. But he couldn't hide behind his shield forever, he had to attack soon, or he'd end up butchered himself.\n\nMallsrek raised his axe above his head, preparing to break through this tin soldier's defenses and gut him like the worthless fool he was. They might drag him before the King of the Isles, but he would go there on his terms, coated in blood and smelling of death. But as his axe reached its apex, his opponent charged forwards, slamming the shield into his gut and pushing him across the arena, slamming him into the rail of the ship, the only part of the arena that wasn't coated with Maith guards. \nCarac felt his opponent's body collide with the wooden railing, and pulled back, raising his mace and using the opportunity to swing at his opponent's head. That was all he needed, one good blow on the Skaggerly's unarmored head and this would all be over. But as the mace neared it's target, Mallsrek's axe moved to intercept, shoving the mace downwards and causing the weapon to slam into the Skaggerly's armored rib cage instead of his skull. Carac didn't have time to curse before Mallsrek slammed the butt of his axe into Carac's face, sending the larger man reeling backwards as Mallsrek followed up by swinging his blade upwards, catching Carac in the chest and sending him flying backwards, landing face up on the wooden deck with a thundering crash. \n\nMallsrek laughed, raising his axe in the air to show all who watched what he was capable of. No man could stand before him, he was the bloody fist of clan Skaggerly, death made flesh, the butcher of the butcher of feyshore. He would gouge out their eyes and devour their hearts, and when the 'Pirate King' looked upon him, even in chains he would make sure he knew fear. \n\"I'll cut off your head and mount it on my fucking wall.\" He declared, leveling his axe at Carac, still lying on the ground.\n\n\"And the rest of you! Who wants to be the first to die? Your King wants me? He can get me himself! I'll kill all of you, then throw your heads at his feet! Who thinks they can take me, eh? Who wants to be the first to die at my hands?!\" He waited for an answer, watching the fear creep across the stoic faces of the guards. Mallsrek smiled to himself.\nThen Carac stood.\n\nCarac slowly rose to his feet, a small dent in his chest armor from where the axe hit. He had been going about this wrong. Mallsrek had an advantage here, his weapons gave him an edge that Carac would have trouble overcoming, so he would refer to the first rule of warfare, one he learned long ago. When your enemy has an advantage, take it away. Carac rolled his shoulders, readied his weapons, and then tossed his mace and shield to the side. Mallsrek looked at him, confused, as Carac raised up his fists and beckoned his opponent to take his best shot. \nMallsrek laughed at the sight, \"HAH! So you've decided to die stupider than most? Good, I could use a laugh!\" \nThe Lord of clan Skaggerly roared and charged, bringing his axe over his head and bringing it down with terrifying force towards his opponent, prepared to watch this fool die. Yet as the blade fell, instead of the sound of rending flesh, there was only the clang of metal on metal as Carac moved with surprising speed, shifting to the side and turning a blow meant for his head into one that merely glanced his armored shoulder. One of Carac's hands went directly upwards, grabbing onto the haft of the axe, right below the head, and ripping it out of Mallsrek's hands, tossing it behind him and into the crowd. His other hand formed a fist and rose towards it's target, Mallsrek's chin. Gauntlet and flesh collided with a satisfying crunch as Mallsrek fell backwards, blood spewing from a split lip and a red gash on his chin.\n\nCarac stood over his opponent, looking down at his fallen foe as he rose, dazed and confused. Skaggerly was a deadly warrior, true, but he was also a Lord, and that was his weakness. He had been given warriors and training, he had been allowed to kill and butcher as he liked, because his birth gave him the privilege to do so. He had fought every battle he had because he wanted to, because he had always been nothing more than a bloodthirsty little shit. Carac had learned to love the bloodshed, he had been forced into this life, fighting for his survival with no banners at his side or armies at his command. Mallsrek had inherited his legend, Carac had written his own. \n\n\"What was t-\" \nCarac didn't give him time to finish, bringing down another fist on Mallsrek's face, sending him skidding across the floor, this time with a broken nose. He was quicker to rise this time, charging at Carac and swinging a punch of his own at his enemy, but the blow seemed to do little to the Butcher, who merely grabbed the fist in mid-air, and twisted Mallsrek's arm at an uncomfortable angle, forcing the man to contort to keep his arm from breaking.\n\nCarac swung again, hitting Skaggerly across the face, holding onto his arm to ensure he would stay still as he punched again and again, the sound of the punches slowly turning into dull, wet thumps as blood stained Carac's gauntlets. He finally let go, dropping a barely conscious Mallsrek to the ground. The only sound that left Skaggerly's mouth was a gurgle as he turned his head to the side, spitting out a mixture of blood and teeth. \nCarac looked back at Katholou, then turned and walked towards the exit, the Maith guards parting before him like a sea as the Butcher of Feyshore made his way off the Sixteen Rings and towards the Palace. He could go for a drink right now."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou Of Clan Drase,\nThe Melee, Sixteen Rings**\nAll of the guards stared in awe as the two mighty combatants exchanged mighty blows that would be enough to put a normal man out of commission in mere seconds. Even Katholou, who usually was never quite impressed by anything had to admit that the pure display of skill, speed and strength was indeed an amazing sight to behold. Of course he also took the occasion to carefully study how both of them fought, making sure to take in any piece of information that may give him an edge in a potential fight as you never know when fates may put men against one another. The fight continued on and no one dared move a muscle as if a sacred dome had been created around the combatants. Only when Carac seemed to be losing did the members of Bradai's Shield hint at being just about to rush in and finish this once and for all, only to quickly change their own mind as The Butcher rose and continued to fight, defeating the member of the Skaggerly family soon after. \n\n\"Impressive\"\n\nThe leader of Clan Drase muttered, sending a glance and a nod towards Carac as he walked away. He would make sure to tell Bradai exactly what had transpired as he did not want to gain his King's favour through lies and deceit. He then turned towards the wounded man that was now strewn across the floor of the arena and walked towards him. \n\n\"You should have known better than to challenge a man fighting to build his own legacy. Seize him!\"\n\nHe then shouted, immediately causing four guards to approach and put shackles on the criminal before escorting him to the palace with Katholou and his second in command clearing a path through the crowd that had now once again begun forming at the entrances of the arena. \n\n\"That Carac... He seems like someone that we should try and recruit\"\n\nGodswill said as he walked up to Katholou's side\n\n\"If not to have him as an ally at the very least to make sure that he does not become a foe\"\n\nHe added.\n\n\"Perhaps you're right. But nevertheless as long as he does not threaten our mighty liege i would not want to lose the chance to have a good duel with him. It's been a long while since i've met a worthy opponent\"\n\nKatholou looked back at the extremely beat up Skaggerly\n\n\"Also for some reason i believe that the strain that attempting to control him would put upon our coffins is not something we can currently afford\"\n\nThe prisoner is brought to Galt Drake and before being tossed into the darkest cell that could be found in the capital city"
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nThe Kingslayer took a moment to answer, almost avoiding the question entirely. \"I don't remember what Falsa looks like, honestly, so I've never considered it home. And though I've spent the last few years here in Tonate, I can't find any reason to stay besides there's nowhere else for me to go.\" A man bumped into him from behind, and he almost reached for the hilt of his sword, instead giving the man a glare. \n\n\"The *Sun's End* Has been my only home, the one thing that still hasn't changed after all these years. You and I could board tonight and leave this harbor, and I'd likely never think of these Isles or their people again.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Banyan Tree, The Water Gardens\n\n\n\"You _have_ no place taking risks, my young Samsom. I could—\" \n\n_I could break your sword hand. I could cut if off, if you'd let me._\n_I could kill that brother for you, and your sisters as well._ \n_I could drink you. Waking._\n\nHe exhaled slowly, shaking his head. \"Well, just about _anything_ could trigger your natural progression, but it seems as if some...\" He snapped his fingers and in an instant another cigarette was in his mouth. He rattled off a quick succession of choppy Azaryan words, curses, as a manicured hand spun idly in the air above him. \"...Some common vagabond Mainlander _hags_ have gotten to you first.\" \n\nHe wanted to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, to tell him to stay far away from Mages beyond The Walls of Azarya, but then, of course, _he_ was a Mage beyond The Walls. But then his eyes narrowed, and in an instant, the cigarette was out between two pale fingers, in a hand resting idly against the side of the warped roots of the banyan tree. The end burst in a flickering blue spark, and a slow column of smoke rose from the ember, twisting in on itself like a column of grey silk. \n\n\"Who are they?\" In the flickering blue light of the candleglobe, his eyes became venomous slits. \"Some coven of hill dwellers that chose to send a bastard to treat with _me?_\" He puffed out his chest and shook his head, \"No. I speak only to you, and only because of your mother. But I will say this of them, and nothing more...\"\n\nSilas slipped the cigarette into his mouth and placed his hand on the warped roots of the banyan tree, slipping around the corner.\n\n\"These... Terresol _Mages,_\" The word was a curse, \"They do not know my King. They could not presume to understand his attitudes towards my magic, and the higher arts. But if they had not sent you all the way down here, who else could they turn to? Will they pin their hopes for freedom on the Pantheists? The Northerners? _You?_ Should they send for that whore, Anyanka Durkhan, to save them? As if they had ever _been_ to Astoria.\" \n\n\nThe Senechal fell from sight, but his shrill, light laugh still emanated through the misty gardens, and puffs of smoke passed over the labyrinth of roots.\n\n\"It seems they made their choice by sending you down here. My King does not love mages. He does not love anyone, save for desperate men. If you find your back against a wall, and you have nowhere else to turn? Then he is yours.\"\n\nThen silence.\n\nHe was gone, with only the smoke of his cigarette to mark where he had been. But by then, the party-goers had begun to seep down the stairs and into the gardens, where sorbet, fine wine, and chilled fruits were being handed out. Samsom was once again in the middle of the party, albeit still sat on the roots of a tree."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that. Falsa has always been home to me, I couldn't imagine any other.\" She said, jolting a bit as Valkrin was bumped into and then her in turn. \n\n\"Why, Captain Valkrin, that's scandalous!\" She joked at his words, though with all the arguing she'd done with her brother tonight the thought of returning to her own boat shot the quick pain of a headache through her skull,\"I do envy your worldliness, I admit. The island culture is so vibrant in comparison to home.\"\n\nAs they danced, her eyes momentarily searched for her brothers, a habit. Samsom was still nowhere to be seen and she could make out Lutur's head over the sea of dancers and dining nobles."
},
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake was awaiting a response from the main Skagerlly family, tapping his foot somewhat impatiently, when he received a tap on his shoulder from one of the guards he'd sent out to retrieve Mallsrek Skagerlly. The guard acted calm in his movements and actions, tapping Galt-Drake on the shoulder and whispering something in his ear.\n\n\"We've collected Mallsrek for ya, Captain Galt,\" The guard quietly stated. He continued, \"We'd like ya ta assess his condition and tha quality of the job done, if ya wouldn't mind.\"\n\nGalt-Drake calmly nodded, delivered a brief hand signal to his men indicating them to hold the position at the Skagerlly family's table, and then walked outside of the Mansion. A group of other guards were waiting, carrying a man who was wrapped up and given what appeared to be basic treatment, but was still at least breathing. It was none other than Mallsrek. Galt-Drake raised a brow and lifted up the tarp that was covering up Mallsrek. When he saw the horrid state Mallsrek was in, his face and body bashed to hell, Galt-Drake couldn't hold back a brief bit of laughter.\n\n\"Well, I suppose it's on me for failing ta specify what condition I wanted him brought in,\" Galt-Drake declared, calm and somewhat humorous as ever. He then continued, \"Take him to tha tower cell once I'm done lookin' this bastard over. Tha rest of his family will join him.\"\n\nGalt-Drake held up the tarp for a little longer, investigating the comatose Skagerlly's injuries closely. There was no doubt about it; this giant, bald man had been beaten nearly to death. Likely a consequence of a bout in the melee, unless the guards got to him first.\n\n\"Well, my big brutish friend, it seems you've been trounced. I like your haircut, at least,\" Galt-Drake casually stated before giving Mallsrek a light slap on the top of his shiny, bald head. Such a slap was incredibly light and inconsequential, since Galt-Drake didn't want to injure the Skagerlly any further. Galt-Drake then put the tarp back over Mallsrek and waved his hand dismissively, letting the guards know that it was time to bring Mallsrek to the cell. Mallsrek was then transported to the tower cell that was awaiting all the Skagerllies. It was an incredibly comfortable and pleasant dwelling, with plenty of room and amenities to accommodate for the entire family. Mallsrek was put in a separate room with a bed large enough to fit his large frame, followed by some medical staff being called in to make sure his recovery from his mini-coma went well. Galt-Drake returned to the inside of the mansion, taking his place back in front of his crew, where he repeated his question to the rest of the Skagerllies, but with a slight twist.\n\n\"I've got one of yer own waiting for ya in yer temporary new residence, my good Skagerllies. I'll just repeat meself,\" Galt-Drake calmly, and somewhat coldly, stated. He then continued with his question, \"Would ya kindly join me lads and I as we escort ya? I give ya my word that no harm shall come to any of yer ilk from me men and I. We have our standards.\""
}
] | 236 | 5,111 |
299.5 | 2021-09-01 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nMaith Mansion, The Ball\n\nCarac had never liked balls, he was keenly aware of how out of place he was there. He was a soldier, not a lord of noble birth. He could not carry a conversation, dance a tune, or woo a lady's heart with his charm. The only women he wooed he paid for with gold beforehand, and the only dance he knew was one of steel and blood. However, there was one part of balls that Carac enjoyed, the copious amounts of alcohol. \n\nHe strode through the doors to the ballroom still in full plate armor, his right gauntlet coated in blood nearly up his entire forearm from his duel with Skaggerly, dripping crimson droplets on the ballroom floor. Behind him came Varn, who cowered in his shadow, hoping no noble would take offense to his presence once they noticed him. The rest of the retinue had elected him to follow Carac, as to ensure he had someone on hand to sort out verbal disputes. Varn hoped it wouldn't come to that, though Carac seemed to be trying his damndest to cause an incident. \n\nHe pushed through the crowd of multicolored dresses and silk doublets, sending a servant carrying a tray of something that looked like small reddish bugs falling to the floor. The man didn't have time to take offense before Carac had pushed himself deeper into the throng of party goers.\n\nA poor young woman, some minor lady from the isles, by her dress and accent, had the singular misfortune to be standing between Carac and the refreshments table. She had been chatting with another woman who ran as soon as she saw what was heading their way, leaving her friend to stand in Carac's shadow. Varn saw her looking up in what could only be described as a mixture of terror and... Excitement, it seemed. She began to open her mouth before Carac gently, for him at least, pushed her aside so he could get to his true goal. Interestingly, being shoved to the side only seemed to increase her interest in the armored figure. \nDozens of glasses of wine littered the table, some a dark crimson, others a far lighter. Carac ignored the glasses, instead reaching past the glasses to grab an entire bottle. Removing the cork with one swift motion, he didn't even bother to remove his helm, pouring the dark red liquid through the small holes of the helmet, the wine running down his armor and creating a small pool at his feet. Only once the bottle was empty did he stop to look at those around him. \n\nThe guests were aghast, well except for the woman Carac had shoved earlier, but the rest of the noble lords and ladies looked at Carac and Varn with a mixture of disgust and shock. Varn quickly grabbed a glass of wine and downed it in a single gulp before turning to address the crowd. \n\"My Ladies 'an gents, may I present THE VICTOR OF THE GRAND MELEE, THE ONE WHO FELL THE BRUTAL LORD SKAGGERLY!\" He said proudly, gesturing to Carac with great enthusiasm. The nobles now seemed more confused than disgusted, which was a good sign in Varn's mind. Carac seemed unconcerned, instead reaching for another bottle of wine."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "Katholou Drase\nMaith Mansion, The Ball\n\nKatholou also entered the Ball, followed by the few members of his retinue that wanted to formally get in. He saluted the members of Bradai's Shield currently on duty inside the ballroom and headed towards the buffet in order to get a drink himself. Suddenly the massive shape of Godswill, whom had been a bit influenced by the recent influx of alcohol, stirred up and he began to shout.\n\n\"My ladies and gents, may i direct your attention to the winner of the melee, the one who captured Lord Skaggerly and felled a dozen men!\"\n\nHe shouted proudly, causing the general confusion to increase dramatically as the nobles began to shoot glances towards both Katholou's and Carac's group trying to understand what in Bradai's name was going on.\n\n\"Please... It was a group effort and the melee hasn't even finished\"\n\nKatholou said in a much lower tone, embarrassed at the attention he had just received.\n\n\"The whole point of participating was to remind everyone of the might of Clan Drase and Bradai's Guard. You won't do that without some public... Recognition\"\n\nThe second in command sent a glance towards the mercenary.\n\n\"Besides there's no way you'd lose against some honour-less bear who fights for none but himself\"\n\n He added, this time in a lower tone as well, perhaps realising he had gone too far and wanting to justify himself. Katholou sighed but still smiled at the confidence that everyone seemed to have in his skills. \n\n\"Oh well. Damage is done. Keep a low profile and relax a bit, everyone\"\n\nHe said before chugging an entire cup of ale in one swoop."
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "|Fabian Ambrose|\n\n|Maith Mansion, the Ball|\n\nFabian- well Fabian was confused more than perhaps he should be. He followed behind the two- victors, head low and rolling his shoulders in general discomfort. He gave a two fingered salute to Katholou as that sign of duelists respect, before heading to a place he could quietly enjoy a drink.\n\nFabian had the luxury of being able to change into his- albeit plain- but fancy garb rather than parade around in his armour half bloodied, even if the sweat and exhaustion had more or less stayed, he wouldn't look like a complete maniac. That is, if people here even counted that as being a maniac. Carac, he hoped, was textbook mercenary and he made a mental note to avoid him fully, seeing as he felled at least a dozen or so men in that melee. And Katholou, the mysterious benefactor that had offered him a job in the middle of battle, something he found quite humourous, before the entire skaggerdly fiasco happened. So, he quietly sipped his drink and pondered, a lowly mercenary at a lords ball, at least, he supposed the food would be good."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nMaith Mansion, The Ball\n\n\"Listen, he's drunk, he doesn't know what he's saying!\" Varn started, trying to calm Carac as the members of Bradai's shield filled the hall with their lies. It was already too late, the massive warrior was plowing through the crowd towards the fool who had just tried to discredit his victory.\nCarac took threats to his reputation seriously, and someone claiming to have defeated Skaggerly, something he did on his own, and winning the melee, the melee *He* Won, was something that wouldn't escape his wrath.\n\nOffending a king was a dangerous thing, they had people's heads off for far less than simply barging into a ball and drinking wine, but Carac doubted the king of the Isles would care all that much. After all, what was a party in the isles without at least one drunken brawl? \nCarac grabbed Katholou by the shoulder, much like he had before on the Sixteen rings, but far more forceful this time. For a moment it seemed like he would attack right there and then, but suddenly Varn spoke. \n\n\"The Honorable Carac of Feyshore 'as taken offense to your claims, m'lord. You 'ad about as much to do with capturing Skaggerly as a takin' a shit 'as to do with makin wine.\" \nVarn was far smaller than Carac and Katholou, but he spoke with the confidence of several glasses of wine and an ally in the Butcher. \n\" 'Owever, if you wish to call yerrself the Victor of the Melee, then by all means, you can.\" \nCarac gripped Katholou's shoulder harder, rage coming off of the larger man in waves. \n\"Provided of course, you step outside with Carac to finish the melee an prove yer claim.\"\n\nVarn gestured to a door leading to a balcony. It was a smaller arena than the sixteen rings, but it had enough room for the two to comfortably fight, and gave all the guests a good seat to watch from. \nCarac looked at the balcony, then back at Katholou. The choice was his, yield his claim to victory, or prove it in combat."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou of Clan Drase,\nThe Ball, House Maith**\n\nKatholou snapped around and looked up at Carac. For but a second, fear flashed through his eyes as his gaze met the mercenary's. Soon after though he recovered, swatting away the other warrior's hand and telling his retinue to lower their weapons in order to prevent any escalation. He sent a quick glance around, seeing that the eyes of many nobles were now aimed at him and his opponent. For but a second he considered accepting this challenge, even if to simply teach this impudent commoner a lesson in front of the whole court. But then he remembered of exactly where he stood: a ballroom inside the mansion possessed by the very king which he worshipped during a party dedicated to that same individual. He would not taint his name over some petty honour-less dispute.\n\n\"Forgive my friend here and his careless words... Not \"\n\nHe started, sending a glance towards Godswill\n\n\"...For he does not know what he is saying. You have fought with honour and due to the fact that i brought in guards to catch the criminal you are in fact the official winner of the melee. If being recognised as such is so important to you then i will not take that away from you.\"\n\nHe said as he turned around and grabbed his cup, rising it high into the air.\n\n\"To Carac The Butcher, winner of the melee and hero of the realm!\"\n\nHe cheered, staring at Carac through the whole process. Everyone else stayed silent, holding their breath and awaiting a response as none knew how the massive mercenary would react"
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Carac the Butcher\nMaith Mansion, The Ball\n\nCarac released his grip on Katholou's shoulder. The Butcher smelled of alcohol and rage, the crimson streaks on his armor from the wine mixing with the blood on his gauntlet, creating a putrid mixture that dribbled to the floor. \nFor a moment, it seemed as if Carac would attack Katholou for his half-hearted concession, even Varn held his breath in anticipation. Even some of the nobles around them looked as if they would enjoy watching these two duel her on the ballroom floor. \n\nThen, Carac simply nodded and turned away, walking back into the throng of guests towards the ale and wine. The Butcher of Feyshore was a violent man, to be sure, but now was not the time or the place, and Katholou had conceded victory. He might have been less than enthusiastic about it, but he had admitted to his lies and given Carac the title of victor. \n\nAs he passed Godswill, Carac swiftly slammed his knuckles into the man's face, sending him to the floor with a bloodied and broken nose. As the man lay groaning in a small puddle of his own blood and ale, Varn laughed and followed the Butcher as he returned to his rightful place, the refreshments table."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou of Clan Drase,\nMaith Mansion, The Ball.**\n\nKatholou saw the whole thing unfold and immediately turned to stop his retinue from... Retaliating which would surely end badly for anyone present. He then helped Godswill get up.\n\n\"I think we all learned something haven't we?\"\n\nHe said with a laugh as he looked at a completely destroyed Godswill.\n\n\"Yeah... Mercenaries are best kept payed\"\n\nThe second in command answered with a half-made smile, a few teeth missing and a pained cackle. He too raised his cup into the air.\n\n\"To Carac!\"\n\nHe shouted, this time being joined by most nobles present in the ball as the tension fell away and Katholou sighed with relief thinking of the brawl he had just averted."
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "| Fabian Ambrose |\n\n| Maith Mansion |\n\nFabian looked at Carac from his secluded spot with barely contained disgust, although he quickly reeled it back in. So that was the champion of such a melee, he probably should have expected such a man would be uncouth enough to almost provoke a brawl outside of the ring. He sighed and rubbed his head, nursing his drink and furthermore his thoughts. Perhaps he should have stayed in that melee, seen how he faired against-\n\nFabian shook such thoughts from his head, and when a toast was called to the butcher, Fabian gladly, and silently joined in, before preparing to leave. His short time in the Ball already being much too much for the usually quiet and reserved mercenary, thanking the servant whom took his glass and proceeding back to the door."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion \n\n\"My only duty is to be here, everything else is pleasure.\" Valkrin said, still looking directly at Lutur. \"You say the word, and I can have the girl removed from the mansion, you've a look of contempt about you.\" \n\nHe'd noticed the group of people that entered, specifically the one attempting to drink with his helmet still on. \n\n\"But don't worry, milady, I'll refrain from mentioning the Dragon in the face of the newt.\" He grinned, \"Wouldn't want to embarrass the lad in front of his new conquest.\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"I fear that *Look of contempt* Is just my face, Captain,\" Said Peraz amusedly, putting on a momentary face of offence, only for it to break way for another smile,\"But any contempt I have would not be targeted at a girl whose name I don't even know, I assure you.\"\n\n\"That *Newt* Is my brother and lord still. Do keep some watch of that tongue-\" It was then Peraz tripped over a step and had to tighten her grasp on the man's arms for a moment.\n\nThe lady of Falsa barked out a laugh at herself and covered her mouth."
}
] | 267.5 | 2,995 |
130.8 | 2021-09-02 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"I never said that contempt didn't look good on you, just that it was noticeable.\" The Captain responded through a smirk. \n\nAt her warning to watch his tongue, he grinned a little harder. \"Forgive me, Lady Peraz, my experience with nobility is limited, and typically end with one party losing their head.\" He slid his hand around her waist to catch her as she tripped, raising an eyebrow. \n\n\"My dear, you're not falling for me already are you?\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n*You're not falling for me already, are you*?\n\nPeraz looked at the much older man with a raised brow and a careful smile,\"It will take a lot more than a dance for my late husband's absence to be filled, Captain. Though I *Am* Glad i'm amusing you.\"\n\n\"I've been hearing of you since my father's death. A cheerful disposition was not something I expected from you, sir.\" She admitted, averting her gaze for a moment as though she were ashamed to think otherwise. Perhaps stories of the kingslayer were just that."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Ah yes, because the whole of Marin assumes I spend my days in a dungeon slaughtering prisoners.\" Valkrin rolled his eye as he spoke, shaking his head. \"I'm cheerful when the situation calls, but if you think I wouldn't cut the throat of anyone here, you're mistaken.\" \n\n\"There are many who wish their name instilled the same fear or respect that mine does, because they believe it would bring them adoration. I do the things I do for no reason other than I can do it, and the gods haven't stopped me yet.\" He stared into the distance for a moment, then came back to himself, his whole expression changed. \n\n\"Enjoy the rest of your evening, it's been an honor. I need to find our good King.\" The Captain bowed as he began to turn away from the woman, disappearing into the sea of people."
},
{
"author": "thelastbotleft",
"message": "The Visionary\nThe Maíth Ball\n\nThe masked man shook his head. \"Vik, doesn't it seem dangerous to be here? If anyone discovers me, I could die. Especially with the tempers in this room.\" The man said, before standing up straight again and watching the events unfold. \n\nHe watched as Bradai made his promise, and the Visionary secretly grew excited. Bloodshed was sure to follow a threat like that, but as the tension grew in the air, muscles relaxed and swords sheathed. Bradai demanded no one draw steel, and the Visionary reminded himself of the dagger tucked into his cloak. \n\n\"Here. You asked for me to hand you it when we came in.\" He said, before handing the box in his arms to the small figure beside him. The man looked out over the crowd, before settling back into his form as he kept an eye on the events at the ball."
},
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\n\"Oh, absolutely, especially after everything you did.\" Vik giggled and took the box."
}
] | 128 | 654 |
120.25 | 2021-09-04 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva's eyebrows raised just slightly in surprise. She didn't get out much, but she knew enough to recognize Cat's rather unsavory circumstance. The brief description she provided didn't exactly paint him in the most positive light, either. She understood why Cat had gotten so drunk. \n\n\"Oh, really?\" \n\nShe glanced out into the crowd then back at Cat and bluntly continued, \"That's rather unfortunate. Why would you want to be an accessory for someone like him?\" \n\nDespite Alva's straightforward tone, it came from a place of genuine - albeit poorly expressed - concern."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nIt was Cat's turn to look surprised, though her surprise came from Alva's bluntness. Even more surprised by Alva's concern. Valkrin's reputation preceded him, clearly, and she couldn't help but feel a little shaken by such a response from Alva. *What am I doing with him?* She thought, her brow furrowing slightly. *Alofen would be horrified...*\n\nShe smiled wryly and replied, \"He's not all bad, though he seldom shows his good side to others.\" She looked away, pausing to take a drink. \"Besides, he offers stability and safety. No one will bother me when I'm at his side.\"\n\nTruth was, after all she had been through and all she had done, she didn't really see herself as worthy of anything better either. And he took care of her... That was worth something, right? And somehow the man seemed immune to her curse, at least so far."
},
{
"author": "flatclubsoda",
"message": "Alva Ivanova\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAlva nodded skeptically, noting the look of uncertainty on Cat's face. \n\n\"Apologies. It's impolite of me to speak ill of someone I haven't met. But I will say, it seems like you're telling yourself that more than me.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"No need to apologize!\" Catarina replied, quick to reassure Alva, but also avoiding the second bit of what the woman said. \n\nShe smiled reassuringly at her new companion and took a long sip of her drink. Alva was perceptive, certainly. Perhaps too much so."
}
] | 101.5 | 481 |
484.272727 | 2021-09-08 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens, the Maith Mansion\n\n\n The dance was in full swing by the time the Seneschal returned to his court. Many were moving down the grand double staircase to light up the gardens, fountains, and twinkling pleasure barge, which he had ordered be cleaned and prepared for the King. He had seen the fight with Mallsrek, and had been impressed in the fighting of all parties, most of all The Butcher. The South loved it's jousts, but Silas had fallen in love with the Islander Melee. It was excessively bloody, and once a man viewed a bloodsport, it put all other sports to shame. There would be a long royal stargazing session tonight on the pleasure barge's observatory, complete with augers to interpret and oboe players to entertain and soothe, as was in the King's fashion. \n\nThere was a small conglomeration of guests around the high table as well, Silas saw. The Northerners were being taken away. The guards under his King's employ had quickly snapped to attention, before delegating the tasks to the most able. Slowly the regiment ascended up the staircase and brought the prisoners along with them. Of the few Northern guards that had stayed, there was a tension in the air. But when the bruised and battered body of Mallsrek Skaggerly, it was clear that their fighter would not lead them. And if so, then who? Silas had seen that look before. It was not that the fight had gone out of them, but that too much rum had gone in. The Pirate King had been right to sedate his guests.\n\nBut on the great balcony, there were more dancers than he could reliably count. Even with the altercation at the high table, more and more people were growing bored with the slow shuffle of armored men. When Valkrin Farensun turned away, most of the swarthy troublemakers did as well, taking partners onto the floor. He had warned the Islanders against dancing as a precursor to coupling, but at the look of things, he should have been warning the Mainlanders. The wives were dancing with just about everyone, from Islander Patriarchs, to members of the royal court, to dignitaries from the Royal Trading Company, to the lesser knights and lords that had attended the ceremony. Even the lords and ladies of Terresol took up ribbons and spun for a song or three. The band of bards played a lively tune, with drums, bells, and rhythmic singing. The tone was foreign, more Araedian than common, but it was easy enough, and the Islanders were dancing in true Tonati fashion, with hips and arms and twirling braids. Even his King, although much subdued in his thick black robes, danced softly, stepping left, left and right, then switching to spin the little Terresi princess in place. She twirled under his fingers, giggling breathlessly and trying her hardest to replicate Bradai's steps, spinning the ribbons in a great arc above her head. When she tripped over her purple silken slippers, he was there to catch and right her, and he gave her a good natured smile. The Protector King, Caderyn, was behind them both, dancing dutifully with one of his King's wives. He seemed to be enjoying himself as much as he was allowed. Soon the song ended and another began, and with a shout, they all seemed to switch partners, and his view of his King was lost in the crowd.\n\nThen there was a pang of guilt. He had forgotten about Ilona. He would have danced with her, if she was here. Their little Princess. All alone. Even he had forgotten. His throat felt dry. She would be safe.\n\n\"Puckgordon,\" Silas looked down to his side to interrupt the boy's dance. Puck would not have seen him arrive, but now he was there, as if he always had been. \"I fear it is finally time. This last task and I will see with the King that he forestall your last flogging. When you are finished, I invite you to come back, enjoy the festivities. I will allow you three drinks. One for the leeches, one for the jousts, and one for this. I think it is fair.\" \n\nIt was a minute before Silas even noticed his dancing partner. \n\n\"Did you find this one along with your snake?\" The boy had a desperate desire to save others."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "A flash of frustration must have crossed his features just then, but he was quick to school his countenance. With a reassuring smile to his sister, he rose to face the Islander.\n\n' Frankly, man, I have absolutely no intention of coming quietly. Not yet, at least. There are certain standards of etiquette that all men of pedigree are expected to follow, yes? From here to the Northern wastes.'\n\nShaydrin pointed to the King. ' I would so dearly like to know ***Why*** His Royal Majesty sees fit to arrest us? If he has no reason good enough to bare before the ears of all gathered here, then I see no reason why I should consent to this. It would be a stain on my ***Own*** Honour, and on my dear sister's.'"
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe ball, Maith Mansion \n\nCalypso found herself alone once again. Going back to Bastian was out of the question, after his father's *Suggestion.* And honestly she had no interest in having to entertain him again. \n\nThe temmere lady took the opportunity to explore the surroundings, walking down the stairs towards the beautiful fountain. Her gaze traveled around the structure and the gardens stretching ahead of it, wondering if it was allowed for her to just wander for a moment on her own, to recharge and contemplate what her options were at the moment.\n\nBut before she could make a decision, she spotted a couple of familiar figures exiting the garden's paths. Maybe it was intuition, maybe old habits, or maybe just her nerves but instinct screamed at her to not be seen. Quickly Calypso hid behind one of the statues decorating the fountain when the two finally came to light. She had been right about hiding. Samsom walked out of the pat, but it wasn't him her eyes had caught on. Silas, the sensical, the snake man, was right beside him and seemed to be saying something before separating from Sir Dumange. Interesting. \n\nWhen the knight made his way in her direction, probably to get back to the maith Maison, Calypso was quick to compose herself, picking up a stem glass from a tray that a maid was parading around, and nonchalantly took a sip out of it keeping her eyes low.\n\nIt was only when the man had taken some steps ahead without noticing her that she made her presence known \"Enjoying the Evening Sir Dumange?\" Stated her raising her gaze up to him, poised and elegant as ever, rolling the glass between manicured fingers. \" Care for a drink?\" A cordial smile resting on her tinted lips as she took another Glass from the same trail, lifting it to him in offer."
},
{
"author": "crystal_lxix",
"message": "**Katholou of Clan Drase, Bodyguard of Bradai.\nMaith Mansion**\n\nAs the party at the ball started to die down, the only people remaining being either those who were too drunk to move or those helping those who were too drunk to move, Katholou retreated back into his chambers to change in preparation for his shift as Bradai's personal bodyguard. He was incredibly tired after fighting in the Melee and participating in a ball, all the while wearing armour, but his resolve to serve His King and be at His side during this period of political unrest was far stronger than any physical restraint that the royal guard's body may impose. He washed his face and and looked up into the mirror, fixing his hair a bit before once again putting on his white helmet and grabbing his weapons and signature tower shield as he headed out, walking towards the room in which Bradai stood at a fast pace. He entered into the room through a side door and shared a quick glance with the various members of Bradai's Shield already present before walking towards the one he was supposed to switch places with mechanical and calculated movements. The other guard did the same, exiting from the same door with swift and silent steps, only daring to relax when he got out of view. Katholou nodded with a smile at this display of discipline. It had taken him a while to teach the members of Bradai's Royal Guard the proper decor but the results were satisfying to say the least. He placed himself against the wall and stood there in silence, ready to act at any moment."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe ball, Maith Mansion \n\n\"And To her Uncle king Caderyn.\" Added her, offering the knight an empathic smile, seeing his fading away \"May he guide her and protect her. \" *And with her, us too. * Thought there but did her own best to keep those grim thoughts away, now it was not the moment. It was clear that the same thoughts were running through the nobleman in front of her. Or was it the residue feeling of whatever had been the subject of conversation between him and the Seneschal?\n\nWithout further ado, Calypso took what could barely be called a sip, before offering the man a soft look. \" I suspect that you aren't finding yourself most comfortable around so many people all at once do you Sir?\" Asked her with a half giggle, before leaning delicately on the side, looking Over Samsom shoulder \"Unlike your younger brother.\" Her statement was supported by the figure of the Anchor surrounded by giggling lovely ladies and men with bright but strained smiles. The temerre lady took another ghostly sip, her silence filled with judgment.\n\nCalypso Kolgrim \nThe ball, Maith Mansion \n\nNow he's forgotten you exist.\n\nAt that, Calypso let out a genuine laugh, head tilted slightly back, light reflecting on her earrings \"Oh gods,\" Gasped her slowly recomposing, but without losing her smile \" How tragic!\" Her tone dripped of sarcasm, silver tongue begging to illustrate how much she cared that she had fallen out of the mind of the High Lord. Sure his attention may have been an advantage in some ways, but Calypso had no interest in losing her dignity over someone so... Boorish.\n\nAnd she was pleased to see that Samsom was also not too fond of his half-brother's behavior. So the reserved and nervous knight was capable of wit, how charming. When Samsom leaned forward she imitated the gesture, bringing them closer, a complicit smile curling her lips, as she listened. \"I did notice that he also had brought no gifts for King Bradai, was that also due to intimidation? \" Chuckled her with a sharp but playful glance. \n\nThe temerre lady lowered her eyes for a moment, long eyelashes hiding her gaze before she lifted it again, pools of ink looking up at the knight with kindness and a hit of concern \" But you aren't like that are you Sir Samsom? Intimidated. \" The question held no need for an answer \"I saw you approach His majesty and the young princess...\" She let her voice lack some of the previous firmness, giving her a more gentle tone. \"And asked to hold the skull.\" \n\nEveryone knew what had been the fate of Archon Baldarian. Tragic and without much glory, slain by the monster that took away so many fathers. Including that of the young princess. It would have been logical for a son to see the skull of the assassin of his parent to feel sentimental about it... And maybe need a bit of comfort. Calypso's delicate hand touched gingerly Samsom's forearm, almost timid \"It must not have been easy...\" Murmured her, letting apprehension slip into her voice, comprehension reflecting in her gaze, after all, she would know what it feels... Right?"
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "' Holding his skull?' he said with a thin voice, and shook his head. ' No, that **Was** Easy—I'm not afraid of remembering. If you mean the other thing ... ' He gazed down into his wine, sounding tired. ' I found my own ways to survive the grief. Awful ways, but yet, here I am.'\n\nHe took a sip, but only a brief one. It occurred to him to clear his throat and ask quite suddenly, ' Would you say your father prepared you well, my lady? For after his ...' He trailed off into a vague gesture with his glass."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe ball, Maith Mansion \n\n\nShe listened, tilting her head ever so slightly, that thin layer of concern never leaving her gaze as Ser Samsom explained his feelings. But that veil of sympathy was hiding a calculated gaze as she calibrated where was better hit to crack the soldier's wall and let possible important information dribble out. Another simple smile rose on her tinted lips as he tried to calm what Samsom was probably sure was the worry of a kindhearted lady. Calypso could see that he was, mostly, a good man... But even the purest soul can hide a dark secret. \n\nHis question did not surprise her. So many times had been asked, and it was only logical for him to bring the subject up. Her expression shifted ever so slightly, falling into the role of the mourning lady. \n\nWith a soft sigh, Calypso imitated the knight and sat beside him on the marble rim, Gracefully turning her bust, giving the man a glimpse of her exposed back, red silk clinging to her skin as she let her legs sit elegantly on the stone. Her eyes looked down into the water, the light of the moon reflecting off it illuminating her face with hypnotic silver lines, \"If you are asking if I find myself in any difficulty in terms of money,\" Her voice was still gentle but it had a more sorrowful undertone \", The answer is no.\" Chuckled her lithe. \"My father left me a more than decent heritage and my dowry is perfectly adequate and intact.\" \n\nCalypso stayed silent for a moment. \"But I don't think that anything could have prepared me for what had happened.\" A shadow passed over her eyes at the memory, maybe the only genuine reaction since the start of their conversation, and then turned around facing Samsom \"But I found my own ways to survive the grief.\" Parroted her offering him a melancholic smile. \n\nA second passed in silence, eyes as black as the night sky holding the other's gaze with a gentle demeanor, \"You know,\" Murmured her leaning ever so slightly forward like the Knight had done previously, giving their conversation a sense of complicity \"I find myself thinking that, maybe... You and I aren't that dissimilar.\" Confessed Calypso, with that gentle voice."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "' What else? ' Samson cast an appraising glance over the two of them, then considered the festivities above the stairs with a sidelong look. ' The world only sees both of us standing uneasy next to more important people. There's another one, I'm afraid.' His gaze fell to hers again, and he offered the slightest of shrugs. ' No offence, lady. He's practically inheriting an archonship, though. The daughter of some foreign lord whose the next best thing to a king would probably be a better match. Or one of the Medarrim sisters. Fair dues for trying him, though. You've got daring, a lot more than the other ladies I've known from the City. I like it.'\n\nHe wouldn't have called himself the prince of charmers, but if there was anything a bastard could excel at with the right attitude, it was the humour of observations. Especially him. He didn't talk often, and it showed in his voice, but he saw and heard far more than anyone could know. Far more than most people would *Like* To know.\n\n' Oh, and how could I forget? ' Samsom leaned in towards her, and indicated both of them in turn with a finger. ' The two of us have the same ***Aura of mystery***. Ambiguity. People always wonder when I'm going to go crazy one dark, lonely evening and turn into a mad sorcerer with a coat made of children's skin. And you?'\n\nWith a sweeping hand, he gestured to those who were dancing and dining up and beyond the fountain. ' Everyone's on the edge of their seat, waiting for the Exarch to announce your engagement to his son.' He tapped his nose. ' Heard whispers when you were giving up that sword. Might have heard someone comment on how the handsome Bastien seems trifle homely next to his supposed fiancée.' \n\nHe took a sip of his wine, and gave another shrug. ' Just wagging tongues, I'm sure.'"
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim is \nThe ball, Maith Mansion \n\n\nThe temerre lady set quietly, nodding along to Samsom's words, listening as his voice grew from that witty murmuring into a more playful intonation. She didn't interrupt him, simply humming along sipping her wine a kitten lick at a time, chuckling at the more interesting remarks. Dark eyes skimming over his face, trying to discern the authenticity of those low chuckles and clever statements. \n\nBut from outside she simply appeared taken by his words, which was partially true.\n\nWas he simply that jovial by nature or was he trying to keep her attention away? And away from what? It was hard to comprehend. Part of her, the part that truly believed in their similarities, hoped that he was being sincere, hoped that the walk with the Seneschal meant nothing, that The young knight had no darkness hiding behind his grey eyes. But that was a naive thought and Calypso could not afford to give him the benefit of the doubt. \n\nWhen they leaned towards each other she kept her eyes low, a breathy, soft chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head, dark curls brushing against her rosy cheeks, framing the oval of her face.\n\n\"Oh I'm never going to get rid of those rumors...\" Groaned her with an exasperated sigh, bringing a hand to her forehead when the subject of the possible relationship between her and the De Lysse's Heir was brought up, playfulness still tugging at the corner of her lips. \"I am glad my supposed audacity brings you amusement sir!\" Chuckled her. \n\n \"But you are right...\" Her voice suddenly a murmur. Calypso was still leaning pretty close, not so much to invade his space... But close enough, the pearls around her neck sinning under the candle as she followed Samsom's gaze towards the balcony. \"We stand on the line between them, \" And turned around, obsidian eyes fixing over the walls of the castle, out where the city stretched illuminated by candles, and the darkness of the sea merged with the night skin in one singular obscured shadow \"And them.\" \n\n\"Never completely rejected, but also never really accepted,\" Explained the lady, \" A gray zone where only a handful of lucky ones can stand.\" That was a peculiar choice of words, but she believed in it. The dark-haired lady turned around facing The knight, something mischievous now mixed with the softness of her gaze. \n\n \"There is one more thing that makes us similar, and you forgot about it.\" Stated her confident, chin raised proudly \"We don't have a written destiny.\" And gently hit her glass against that of her interlocutor. The *Tling* Of the crystal celebrating a silent cheer. That gentle smile turned into a smirk that still held some warmth. \"They can make assumptions have expectations...\" She chuckled low, the sound mixing with that of splashing water from the fountain \"They might think awful things about us, that you'll turn into a horrid sorcerer, and that I'm a greedy gold digger.\" Her head shook again, just a small movement. \" But we have no obligation, no family name to continue, no arrangements to fulfill.\" \n\nThere was a pause, a moment to let Samnom catch up with her words \"I never paid much attention to titles...\" Confessed her, a hint of embarrassment on her face. \"I pay the due respect where it is needed, but for me, the soul of a person is always going to be far more interesting.\" *And how useful they can be.* \"What they are willing to do is far more telling than their words.\" \n\n\"It might be naive but...\"Calypso's hand rested on her companion's shoulder, cotton soft touch barely present, like when she had touched his arm \"...Let them believe what they want to believe Ser Samsom,\" Spoke softly looking up at him from under long lashes. \" But while they struggle to follow the line that was decided for them before their first breath was even taken, you and I have a white canvas to draw on.\" And smiled. An impish smile that had something sweet and hopeful \" We just have to choose wisely.\""
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "The honesty of those words had purged something from his soul, and he felt at ease for a time. He fed a long sigh into the warm, humid air, swishing his wine this way and that inside its glinting receptacle. Stone-grey eyes sunk to watch the half-hearted motions, like a hand of dice being cast again and again, all while knowing that each die was weighted against the caster. The drink followed the one motion; only the fleeting, fickle glimmers of white light seemed to change.\n\n' People use me. Picking at my brain like ravens to the corn, trying to see what kernels they can snatch up about the court. Believe me, there aren't as many shadows in the Ramna's halls as people like to think. All that are there are hanging over Lutur. So heavy that he couldn't grow into a man.'\n\n***Couldn't grow***. His eyes found those of this unlikely sparring partner, and he slowly shifted to face her, resting a leg across the smooth marble lip of the fountain. She was—and even in his own mind, he made a point of trying to master his adjectives—as enigmatic as she was venturesome. He felt—no, he ***Knew**—that she was keeping her cards much closer to her chest than she was letting on with all this sincere rumination on their bittersweet lives. And if he himself felt so imperiled, then Bastien was at the mercy of the gods alone.\n\n' You do realize what you're sashaying into, don't you? ' he asked with a tilt to his head, sending some stray locks out of place. ' It's lot more than just cosying up to a future exarch. Hell, that's dangerous enough as it is.' He looked at her more closely, scrutinizing the inscrutable recesses of her mien. ' You're throwing your bones into a mighty stew, my lady. Been brewing a long time. Mightn't have seemed that way over your little urban paradise.'\n\n** **\n\nHe nodded towards the balcony. ' Your allies up there? They're going to storm the shores of Andallion, cut their way through the lands you grew up around. And who just gave their king the sword to do it? ' He arched an eyebrow, his finger tapping a ponderous rhythm against the side of his glass. \n\n' You know our people. They'll throw a hundred souls to the grave just to stop Bradai taking one olive grove. It's them who'll be the 'enemy flesh'. And these ones, they're Islanders—you know they'll bring a vengeance to match.'\n\nHis tone was level, and he made sure to keep his voice to a murmur so as not to be overheard. Still, he felt his mind groaning by the weight of his own remarks. \n\n' Sorry if I sound accusing. Don't mean it that way. Just been thinking about all of it a lot lately.' He shrugged. ' Probably more than what's good for me. Guess I'm just wondering if it troubles ***You*** As much as ...'\n\nHe let those words run off, and seemed to bat something away with a vague motion of his glass. He was not looking at her any more. ' I can imagine what Bastien's thinking. Cyprien, Lutur. Peraz, maybe.' His dark, heavy brows knitted over muddled thoughts of his sister, apprehension summoned like a sudden summer rain. They dissipated quick enough in the crystal moonbeams, and he turned his eyes on her again. ' Haven't quite figured it out for myself, really. But you ... '"
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nAnd like that, Peraz found herself alone once more, watching the Captain walk off towards the king.\n\nThe night was growing late and the drink weighed heavily in her stomach and she no longer felt like dancing. Begrudgingly she made her way back to her seat at Lutur's table. \n\n\"Brother.\" She mumbled in greeting, though she didn't have the energy to say much more to him.\n\nPeraz reached for the back of the chair to sit and her hand fumbled a moment. Once seated she glanced along the crowd of strangers and leaned back. Was that Samsom she spotted? Her vision blurred and fogged so she shrugged off the thought - she would yell at Samsom for leaving her alone with Lutur later, for now she wanted rest."
}
] | 415 | 5,327 |
516.5 | 2021-09-10 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\n\"You can be slow at times, Lutur, but you're not an idiot. You know I have support in Falsa where you do not. You are smart enough to know that is why I was made to marry Adrien.\" She said with the slightest hint of an amused smirk at her brother's beetroot colour,\"There is a reason Cyprien De Lysse addressed me before you.\"\n\n\"Where do you expect to face war, brother? On your arse in a tent while your men die for you? While I, the miserable widow, and your bastard brother fight alongside them?\" She asked with a raised brow.\n\nPeraz's drunken mind brought all manner of horrible things to say to her brother, things that would hurt him and sometimes, in the heat of an argument and when she looked at him and all she could see was how much of mother was in his features, all she wanted to do was hurt him. But tonight she felt herself soften.\n\n\"I don't want to be your enemy, Lutur,\" She said, voice much more gentle than she usually spoke with him,\"I pray the gods forgive all my quarrelling with you but if you would only listen to me, you might have something to learn.\""
},
{
"author": "timeless117",
"message": "Self-Named Sea King, Lord David Brass \nThe Maith Mansion\n\nThe Sea King remained silent after he heard the questions given to him in such sweetly spoken words by the First Admiral, Gitten Maith herself. The once content look placed across David's face had faded away like stones by the seaside. The Gray Eyed Squid glazed over to the Pirate King for a long moment, before he had taken a swing of a nearby drink place not too far out of his reach. David Ignored the women's words for a while, as David remained in his seat as he finished off his drink, the sounds of him chugging the dark liquid down his throat echoed as the quieted onlookers watched in a mixture of shock and bewilderment. \n\nDavid Brass then placed the emptied cup down at the table as he looked to Reginald and spoke in a tired voice \"This isn't, what I wished for, deal with this situation. It be your way to deal with the outsiders, is it not? Speak your sense to them\". The Sea King said to The Diplomat. The Young Brass's words showed no fear or intimidation in them, his words only showed his frustration and annoyance at the situation that was taking place around him.\n\nThe Bastards Bane finally gazed at the First Admiral and only laughed as he remained in his chair. \"I wasn't that man, I am the only true Sea King my time now, the questions you offer are for one that is no longer living. If it were I, I would've killed that bit of rotten wood, not allowed her to be sold to House Skaggerly, not allowed them to even have the chance to be able to take it, burning Nighthawk, was that her name? Well burning her was the only smart choice they made. You seem to remember it as if it happened a moon ago, any wood grown in the south is too weak and easily damaged. The cold kills it, it is too soft you could say\". The Brass chuckled loudly as his gaze wasn't broken with Gitten.\n\nDavid would have looked down, then seen her hand placed on the hilt of her blade, then his wandering eyes looked around him and would have noticed the group of well-armoured guards stood behind her. The Sea King pushed his chair out loudly from under the table and then stood up from his chair, as moved before The Sister Of Pirate King.\n\n*I remember The Disappointment showed me the history of our House. At least what is still written her tale matches with one that was none too far from my rule. If so, she is the fiery-haired brute that sailed so far after a ship we took as our right. She is taller than I thought she would be, her face is brutish like a Snake-Faced Whale but better than some women at home. I will say if she wasn't this angered, more drinks at hand, and within me, the words we would have traded between each other may have been better for us both.*\n\nThe head of House Brass allowed these thoughts to swim around his mind, He continued to stare up at Gitten. The prideful grin never leaving his beard face, the confidence near leaving his stance as he spoke. \"Soft like a whale hide as it is gutted by true seamen, by those under House Brass. You think you have any right to move me\" The Sea King turned away and sat back down at the table. He loudly placed his chair back where it had been before he stood up. \"Then move me with only your own hands, and leave your group of krill to the side, to watch you fail once again to gain what you desire\". The Sea King spoke as he faced away from her and went to take another drink."
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "Calypso Kolgrim \nThe ball, Maith Mansion \n\n\n\nInstead of exchanging the Bastard's gaze, Calypso's eyes fixed up towards the balcony, observing the golden lights flooding out of it, laughs, and the sound of dishware clanking together mixed with the buzzing of chapters storming off of the stone stairs like the sound of a full hive, as she felt his cold eyes search as if she had the answer for his questions written on her skin. \n\nBut she kept that far underneath, under muscles and blood under bones and soul far from his watch.\n\n*And I'm just another Crow...* Though, avoiding his gaze for a moment. As if he could by chance see the quip of guilt pooling in the pit of her stomach. Calypso thought if it was worth it... Whatever she was trying to snatch out of Samsom. Who was just as lost, if not more, as her. Something that she didn't even know what it was and yet...\n\nNo... She knew why she approached him. Why her curiosity was pushing.\n\nShe hummed, intrigued \"My allies...\" Murmured Calypso, eyes fixed up, \"Our people...\" Another murmur escaped her lips as she gently rocked the glass between her delicate fingers, munching on the words spoken by the knight. \"That's an interesting choice of words,\" Stated her taking a small sip.\n\nShe leaned back a bit, her stance was now more relaxed. \"I guess you are not wrong though.\" Sighed \" Farsa, Terresol... That's all you got right?\" Mumbled, weighing every letter with careful precision \" A land that you belong to, that had kept you in its territory instead of sending you back from...\" Calypso left the phrase unfinished, no need for her to fill up the space. \n\nHerr words danced through the air like feathers and still on her tongue lingered that sweetness, that caring gentleness. \"You say that you haven't quite figured it out but your mouth betrays you... I don't condemn you though.\" Another sip \"After all if our land will get massacred by the dangerous games of war...\" Calypso bit her tongue pausing for a second \"...What would it be of you?\" Whispered. \n\nA soft sight slouched her shoulder \"Or maybe you are truly confused and I'm rushing my judgment...\" And at that, she turned around. Of that soft kindness that had first met Samsom some were lingering, at the corner, like a held back tear... But mostly concern was what reflected in her dark eyes. And, of course, Suspicion, which helped maintain that characteristic sharpness in her gaze. \"Maybe that is why you went talking to the Seneschal...\" Whispered her, keeping the conversation between them and them only \"... To search for clarity?\" Asked, with that hushed smoky tone, before dropping her eyes again \"I'm sorry...\" Mumbled Calypso shaking her head brows scrunched up creating a lithe crease on the smooth skin of her forehead. \n\nCunning, curiosity, duty, and worry mixing up in her mind, something she was not used to and that could easily be blamed on the alcohol."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "***To search for clarity***. No sooner had she put the words forward that she bowed her face away and apologized. Samsom guessed that she was being demure by insidious design, and suddenly wished that he were a more blissfully naïve man.\n\n'I don't ...' he began, and reached out to gingerly touch her shoulder. 'I don't need clarity, lady. Definitely don't need any insight from the likes of that man. He's all smoke and mirrors. Don't go talking to him tonight if you want to sleep easy.'\n\nSome black cloud of disconcertion caught his mind then, and he stared at her for a little too long. With an inarticulate hum, he looked away, into his cup. 'Hell, that's what we're here for, right? Bastards. Not you, just me I mean.' He looked back at her with a slight frown. 'We're meant to lead lives of clarity. Standing just next to better kin and seeing what they don't, with their eyes clouded by... Well, purpose, I suppose. And we just watch.' \n\nSamsom pursed his lips, adding with a tilted head and a tone sotto voce, 'And sometimes, I suppose, we give a little push.' He met her gaze. 'Only as needed, of course.'\n\nA bitter smile fell across his face as he lifted it to the lights. 'Not for ourselves. Never for ourselves. It's for the people we care about who everyone expects us to envy or hate.' Slowly, the smoldering ardour wavered, and he locked eyes with her again. 'And maybe they're half-right. But if I give it all into the harder feelings I have for them, then what's waiting for me on the other side of that?'"
}
] | 518 | 2,066 |
1,490.333333 | 2021-09-21 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "spooksworth",
"message": "Arch Seneschal Reginald Cyroven\nThe Ball, the Maith Mansion\n\nThe Diplomat had conveniently placed himself away from most of the hustle and bustle of the ball. He watched onwards like a druid in the night as the Southerners preached and pranced around, completely drunken on their laurels. He watched from the upper balconies as the procession of events went underway, watching intently as each and every guess played homage to the Pirate King. The two Vivayn knights were still by his side, as he was a foreign dignitary, protected by international law. \n\nHe looked on as his associates, the Skagerllies, brought fourth their baseborn siblings for the Pirate King's use, whatever that may be. They were so finely dressed in their garments, Kelsafyr and Shaydrin. Perhaps too finely dressed, and this was thought of a man who ever only purchased the most prestigious, the most refined robes of any corner of the world. They matched the rest of gaudy, gratuitous garbs of the Southern elite, strutting around like the Gods' gift to civilisation. But that was the thing, their attire matched the colours of House Skagerlly, crimson red and blinding white. Those colours, like the sigil, represented unbridled brutality and destruction, which made them stand out like a sore thumb even in a pool of hapless sheep and ostentatious aristocrats. The shining satin of their fineries beamed out amongst torchlight and moonlight which made the roofs and mantle pieces dance in blood and aggression. The Skagerlly twins were far beyond the rest of their ill-gotten brood, but they had a penchant for standing out, even if it brought them unwanted attention.\n\nThen came Reginald's companion from one side of the continent to the other, the man he could not seem to spend one waking moment away from, the self-proclaimed Sea King, David Brass. As bold as ever, he stormed to the Pirate King's make-shift dais uninvited and blurted out words of rhyme of riddle, the chances were fifty-fifty. Then his gift was unveiled, the beautiful coat of the shell-nosed seal and continued to bellow out his exploits whenever he rode his mistresses' waves, to the Pirate King himself. For whatever he must have said, David Brass seemed to pique the interests of Maith, as a he was offered a seat right beside the King of the Southern Isles himself. What they were discussing, Reginald knew not, only that he misliked it greatly; one of his associates so close to the host of the entire ball. Misliked it in much the same manner his other associates stood out so prominently.\n\nArch Seneschal Cyroven was about to make his move and intervene to mitigate damages, so they could move forth with their plan. He even had the servants at his along with the knights ready with the chests of gifts the Pirate King expected. In one, a dagger, finely crafted in the forges of Wingsway. It was had a stainless steel blade, serrated upwards across the edge almost like fangs... Or talons. Then, the pommel had two finger grooves to fit nicely around the owner's hands, whilst being etched with feathers from a wing, to remind the Pirate King where it came from. Reginald was instructed to recount Nathaniel's admiration of Bradai's proficiency on their shared hunting trip, up in the forests of Ibethiel at the Council of Marin before last. Of course, Nathaniel believed him to be nothing more than an unwashed reprobate, and a king of peasants and 'Shitbloods', certainly not worthy of the weapon being bestowed upon him. Secondly, Lord Vivayn had provided him with an exquisite cloak, trimmed with cloth of gold, accentuated with wolf fur that comfortably wraps around the neck in the cold winter climate. This was supposed to a form of invitation from Nathaniel to Bradai, as it's well documented the Pirate King has never been that far North.\n\nBut before he could descend the balconies, a haze of whirls and smoke broke out from the centre of the ball. Different forms of animals and shapes of obscure creatures formulated until an entire beacon of white reached even Reginald up in his fort. Pale hands danced around with wands of perfume and incense. A mysterious herald appeared on the stage, most likely one of those charmers or tricksters from that unholy cesspit that harboured many of the unnatural. The herald made dark turn to light, light turn to dark, appearing and reappearing until they landed on a stage behind the scene and exclaimed, \"TWO BROTHERS.\" Reginald held up his hand to his entourage to cease their movements. He'd stay and watch the entertainment their illustrious host had provided for them.\n\nInitially, when the actors came out and their names were announced, he was surprised to see the Brother's Rebellion was the choice of play. As the scenes moved from one to the next, highlighting Felix Carter as nothing more than a womanising degenerate, and the Ice Lord a dour, worn down shell, Reginald's thin lips almost curled upwards into a sly smile. The jokes, the energy and the rhymes even caused him to exhale in amusement, along with the cacophony of laughter and bluster the crowd below. Marshall with his fat, greedy daughter that weighs him down and breaks away his spirit, and Felix with his gathering of whores and harlots, believing buying their companionship was akin to earning it. Oh yes, Reginald found it all very amusing. That was until act two approached, and the Vivayn banners flung down from the makeshift battlements. On stage appeared a decrepit, hunched looking monstrosity, hobbling towards Felix's actor. The gathering below continued to guffaw and bleat in utter joy as his liege was made a mockery of. Reginald felt himself grip his ringed fingers around the bannister at the announcement of the \"VIVAYN SOLILOQUY\", whereby the playwrights characterised Nathaniel as the reason for the descent between the Carter Brothers, as the cause for an entire Kingdom being torn in half. Any Southerner who was half-literate knew that the Carters brought that war on themselves, yet none of it mattered. Hundreds of thousands of lives lost and they were laughing. The saviour of the Witherlands and the Chosen One was being disrespected in the most egregious manner. By the time the play had concluded, Reginald was staring daggers at everyone.\n\nMatters were made worse when he eyed a woman fitting a certain description going to Maith and then requested to speak with him privately. He followed her out, and the Diplomat sighed lowly, knowing exactly what was coming next. Those flashy attires... A person without sight would have made them. Cyroven, in a sudden flare of anger, reached out and slammed his fist down onto the chest the servant was carrying, making it fall and the cloak spill out, flapping about like a marauder's idea of fame and wealth. \"Go to the Winged Watcher and summon all the knights and guards. Run. If the gates are barred on your return, take hostages or find another way in,\" The Arch Seneschal commanded the servant, to which he responded by immediately dashing off.\n\nCyroven made his way down to the scene, joining the Skagerllies and the privateers, the Vivayn knights on either side of him. \"They shan't be going anywhere,\" He announced, his tall and slender frame appearing from the staircase. \"They are honoured guests, just like the rest of these *Fine* People in attendance. Under what pretence would they or anyone else here be ushered away to dark, dank cells most unbefitting of their birth?\" He directed to the main privateer, the one that seemed to be calling most the shots. \"There are several things not being understood here, things that could be untoward for all parties involved,\" Reginald joined his hands behind his back in a regal, dignified manner. \"Whatever you have been told is false. Granted, you're following orders. But the order is misinformed. It comes from an unreliable, unrepentant source that seeks to cause nothing but strife for my associates and myself. You have no jurisdiction over any members of House Skagerlly or David Brass, nor does your liege have any stock or purpose in politics in the Kingdom of the Witherlands and its subsidiaries,\" He stared at him, with cold, ember-black portals for eyes, \"Lest he wants to incite an international conflict. There are men outside those gates you barred as we speak. They'd be prepared to parlay with you if you are prepared to parlay with them. If not... Who's to say what they'll do. I'm sure the Pirate King would not want his magnificent ball ended with such ugliness.\""
},
{
"author": "perfectlypeachy",
"message": "Kelsafyr Skagerlly,\nThe Southern Isles, Braidai Marth's Mansion.\n\nThe evening progressed so quickly, and yet so slowly at the same time. Naturally, Kelsafyr had begun to gravitate towards Shaydrin, sitting quietly at his side while he conversed with those around him. At one point, she had thought about attempting to strike up a conversation with Maren before she banished such a decision and instead elected to welcome herself to the never-ending supply of wine and drink. She wasn't quite sure what she was expecting the evening to entail for them, as it was far different to what few parties they had in the Witherlands. She didn't exactly know why, but she began to feel a certain tightness in her chest, genuine anxiety.\n\nThe next hour or so began to blur for Kelsafyr, her heart pounding so hard against her ribs she thought it might rupture. She had started to feel fatally far from her depth, reaching beneath the table to grasp at Shaydrin's hand, only to realise that he had stood from his seat and was speaking to a man surrounded by armed guards. The colour very visibly drained from her face, and she looked as if she were ill to the men surrounding her and her kin. She was so confused. Why was she feeling this way? Why was she feeling so genuinely terrified? Slowly but surely, she began to recall the conversations that had been happening around her, having been tuning out the noise of the ballroom to try and recollect herself and calm her rapid breathing. \n\nPrisoners, bloodshed, \"If you'd follow me, ska..-\", severed fingers, concealed steel -.\n\nA hand pressed against her thigh, where she had strapped a dagger. Her face turned an ill sort of green, and the evening of drinks began to bubble in her stomach. She swiftly rose a hand to cover her mouth, and she released something that was a combination of a sob and a retch.\n\nShe didn't understand why was she being arrested, too? Her brothers, she could understand, as they often worked closely with her father, but she had never done an untoward thing in his name in her life. Well, nothing untoward on such a drastic scale, anyway. If only she had kept her mouth shut, she might be back in the Witherlands, safe and away from those who might do her harm. If only she had listened to Shaydrin, Mallsrek, too. He was right. She was a fool, a stupid little girl, a dull-witted mare -..\n\n\"There are men outside those gates you barred as we speak. They'd be prepared to parlay with you if you are prepared to parlay with them. If not... Who's to say what they'll do. I'm sure the Pirate King would not want his magnificent ball ended with such ugliness.\" Uttered Reginald Cyroven, the diplomat that had accompanied David Brass. She hadn't met him, and yet she had never been so glad for his presence.\n\nShe looked as if she had been more than willing to cooperate with Galt-Drake before the Arch Seneschal's arrival, but with his aid, she slowly began to calm down. She gracefully folded one leg over the other, hands clasping to rest within her lap as she lifted her chin with indignation, eyes settling upon the privateer. She began to pick at a bunch of grapes, gently settling one between her lips, before biting down. Perhaps she'd make it out of here alive after all."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "Shaydrin skewed his lips and threw a cursory glance towards the high table. It seemed that His Majesty King David—though in truth he had no basis on which to claim any title but 'Lord' David—had already been subdued by the Pirate King's harridan of a sister. Quite a humiliating bind to be in, he thought to himself, but no less than the fool deserved. By all the gods, the man had fancied coming all the way south and trying to kidnap a queen in the midst of all this? It felt bad enough being dragged around by a brute like Mallsrek on their rangings and rovings; at least their half-brother was driven by nice, predictable desires and insecurities rather than such ethereal fantasies as this.\n** **\n\n'Nothing to be done now,' he whispered to himself, and half to his sister. He looked back to her as he pondered the Islander's words, and observed a clash of gut-wrenching terror and dignified resignation on her face. He wasn't sure if he was afraid, or resigned; in his heart and in his head, he felt that familiar sensation that evoked the grinding of rough stone slabs. In the crush of darkness, all he had to off of were the few stray sparks.\n\n'Alright,' he managed with half a voice, and took his seat beside he who had accosted them. 'I'll wait. I'll make your king wait.' Laying his hands flat on the table, he met eyes with an Araedian noblewoman sitting across from him. Once he had inspired an acceptable amount of disquiet on her dark face, he reached over and slowly relieved of her wine cup, replacing the one that the Islander had stolen from him.\n\nShaydrin took a long swig of that wine before turning to the Islander. 'Might I have your name, at least? If you fancy dragging us good, well-bred noblemen to some tower cell.'\n** **\n\n—\nGalt-Drake, from his reclined but very able position, was able to observe the doubts and unease on the faces of every Skagerlly present at the table, as well as every minute movement they made. They were as readable as an open book to him, and even if they were to walk free at the end of the day, Galt-Drake still had plenty of fun putting the fear of the Isles in the hearts of these godless mainlanders. Galt-Drake cocked a brow at Shaydrin's own act of theft of an Aeradian's wine cup, which elicited a hearty little chuckle of his own. This entire chaotic situation was the kind of stuff he lived for. Sailing for days on end sometimes got boring, after all, even if the sea was his home. Galt-Drake clapped briefly, seemingly proud of Shaydrin's act of wine thievery.\n\nGalt-Drake humorously stated, an uncomfortably charming smile gleaming over his face, \"Disrespect a mainlander noble like tha' again, and ya may 'ave me fooled for one o' me own.\"\n\nUpon hearing Shaydrin's decision, Galt-Drake nodded and folded his arms in his reclined position, seeming to also be waiting a bit as well. He heard a request for a name, and he'd be damned if he didn't at least introduce himself.\n\nGalt-Drake boldly responded, \"Name's Galt-Drake, me good Skag. I already know who ya are. Put 'er there.\"\n\nHe then offered Shaydrin an open, empty palm, seeming to desire a simple handshake.\n—\n\nShaydrin arched a needly eyebrow at the man's hand. 'Skag,' he repeated to himself, not fond of the way the word tasted. He reached to meet Galt-Drake's hand, offering a limp reciprocation. Taking that woman's wine cup had probably been a straying from the image he would have presented. With uncomfortably pursed lips, he settled the cup and its meagre remainder of wine back in front of the woman, giving her a nod of unspoken and unfelt gratitude.\n\n'You know my name, but have you any idea why your king's arresting us?' he asked, scrutinizing Galt-Drake. 'Do you even care, or are you just the Pirate King's half-trained little dog?'\n\n—\nGalt-Drake possessed a grip that was far more firm than Shaydrin may have expected, even from a privateer. As his handshake was reciprocated, Galt-Drake leaned in a bit close and spoke to Shaydrin in a somewhat hushed voice, still holding onto the other man's relatively dainty hand.\n\nThe privateer whispered, \"Don't think I didn't notice the lil letter openers ya brought. Yer clever enough to fool most o' the room, sure, but I'm not so complacent.\"\n\nGalt-Drake then seamlessly released the handshake and transitioned back into his reclined position, listening as Shaydrin spoke further. Needless to say, the man was startlingly quick. The attempt to insult him by calling him a king's dog was far from effective, as Galt-Drake merely brushed it off with a dismissive chuckle and wave of the hand.\n\nGalt-Drake curtly responded, \"Please. I'm not a king's pup, and I'm not clueless. That noble woman who revealed herself is more than likely why my liege declared yer arrest. Anna Barrmount, I believe her name is. I presume she's got major problems with yer house and the fact ya still draw breath. Unfortunate for yer end, though, but I'm sure somethin' will change the scales a bit more in yer favor. As fer whether I care or not...\"\n\nGalt-Drake took another sip of ale and placed the cup down, his arms folding once again and his expression remaining unchanged.\n\nThe privateer continued, \"Yer mainlander politics hardly interest me, northman. I've got more important shite to worry about on tha day ta day. At the end o' tha day, whether ya get outta this nonsense unscathed or get flung into tha' cell, I'm still serving me liege, me own ambitions, an' earnin' me keep.\"\n—\n\nSo he had spied their weapons. That meant that this mongrel had been staring at his sister's thigh, and that made him want to cut his face open like he had done to Ohan Delpsy just a few months prior. Even now, the way that bastard moaned as his tongue and his cheek were rent was still a honeyed confection for Shaydrin's ears. He could not, however, fathom how Galt-Drake had spied his own dagger. The weapon was tied up inside the mouth of the fox who's skin he was wearing. Shaydrin would have forgone bringing it, but Kelsafyr was dogged about arming herself, and he would have broken every taboo there was to make her feel she was not odd in doing so. Perhaps it would be his fatal mistake one day.\n\n***Anna Barrmount***. That name splashed into Shaydrin's mind like a boulder in a pond, and his eyes drifted away from Galt-Drake to the woman on the dais. Yes, of course—it ***Was*** Old Yaron's idiot little daughter. They had picked up word of her on their journey south; she had gone to Vallen and begged the gathered Council for aid, and ended up married to some petty Ibbish courtier in return for vague promises of soldiers. He had struggled not to laugh, of course. The army had long since moved on by the time she had made that pact, and all had heard by now that Sibyl Barrmount had fully aligned herself with her supposed enemy. What a tricky situation the little whelp was in now. And no doubt very confusing. Shaydrin supposed she saw this as an opportunity to stab Nathaniel in the flank.\n\n'Earning your keep, yes,' Shaydrin echoed, half-listening to the Islander now. He was dwelling on that revelation, and was just looking to his sister when a shadow fell over them. The king? He turned and saw a face that he never would have expected to relieve him so. It was Reginald, and he spoke the weighty, blackest truth to the Islanders.\n** **\n\nShaydrin felt the nervous swell in his guts begin to settle. He leaned his back against the board and glanced to his sister. Her aspect had shifted utterly, giving way now to her usual poise and intoxicating elegance. Smiling a bright, fresh smile, he put his eyes on Galt-Drake, and drummed his fingers against the edge of the table."
}
] | 1,859 | 4,471 |
766.75 | 2021-09-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon Snæch and Maren\nThe Maith Ball\n\nPuck stared up at the Seneschal with minor concern as he was stopped, Silas' words slipping through his ears like leeches before he truly understood what they meant. His mouth parted, his arm still steady-holding the young girl against his hip. He was about to protest, but once Silas mentioned his last lashings, he zipped up again to simply nod with mild concern and reserve himself to his duty. \n\nMaren, on the other hand, was filled with some weird dark feeling as she started at the pretty man who stood towering over both of them. Her fun and relaxation she had felt soaking in had quickly dispersed and been replaced with this mild discomfort in the Seneschal's presence. He was the one she saw before, that she had felt the taste of blood and ink in her mouth. She bit the inside of her cheek nervously, watching the exchange. And by exchange, it just meant that Puck stood there quiet and respectful while Silas spoke.\n\nPick dropped Maren carefully onto her feet and squeezed her hand as Silas finally noticed and took account of her. \"No, she's quite important, Sir.\" He looked at Silas with mild satisfaction, and a little annoyance. Be that to Silas interrupting the nice dance and prod for information, or the idea that Maren was held like a cushy prisoner. He looked down at Maren who looked between Puck and Silas for a moment.\n\nMaren curtsied just as she was taught. \"My name is... Uhm. Maren. Of...\" She hesitated, her eyes glancing about. \"My name is Maren of Vik!\" She came up with, her sky blue dress dipping as she did. \"I'm looking for uhm... My brother and I got scared... P-Puck helped me. He's very nice.\" She could just be seen as nervous from Silas' intimidating presence. She hoped so. \n\n-\n\nPuck seemed dumb founded that Maren just lied to the person who would probably dissect her for fun, but he didn't have time to explain what she was doing or what was happening. Silas *And* Puck had better things to do that would help the crown, whilst Maren had the need to hide herself in plain sight from those who would think she was loyal to anyone this far.\n\nPuck bowed graciously and looked to Silas and Maren. \"If you'll excuse me, I must be off. Maren, you should go play with the other kids. I'm sure that... You'll find whoever you're looking for.\" He glanced at Silas. It was obviously not the truth, even if Puck was a good liar it was hard to be dishonest before the person he valued more than most. He quickly spun on his heel and dismissed himself, being swallowed into a crowd.\n\nMaren stood before the Seneschal with mild dismay, taking a deep breath. \"You are a very pretty person. I like your rings, they're really shiny.\" She complimented, forcing a smile onto her face. \"I thank uhm... That its nice you are Puckgordon's papa. He hates his old one.\" She wrung her hands together. \"Even if you do taste like blood.\" After that, she spun around and darted toward a group of kids to mingle with."
},
{
"author": "spooksworth",
"message": "Arch Seneschal Reginald Cyroven \nThe Ball, the Maith Mansion \n\nEventually, a retort was offered not by the instigating privateer, but by the Pirate King himself. Cyroven looked upwards when the Ruler of the Southern Isles interrogated him up from his dais, barking out his barbs and scepticism across the entire hall, echoing about like some shrill bell being tolled by a demon sent from the hells. Bradai pointed his ringed finger at the Diplomat and, even in that moment where armed guards threatened him, his associates and his mission, he found himself examining the trinkets that donned the man's hand. They flashed and sparkled in the torchlight, each and everyone that draped the extremities of the most powerful in the Southern hemisphere had their own characteristic and beautiful exceptions. But they were ill-suited to him. Reginald, being an educated jeweller, did not doubt the authenticity of any one of the gems around the Pirate King's hands, just the matter of how they ended up around his calloused fingers. He was a Shitblood. He did not care for fittings or proper sizings. He wore them as a symbol of status and of power, over all the underlings that rallied at his speeches and laughed at any quip he would make.\n\nWhen Maith had concluded probing the Arch Seneschal, he remained in much the same way: with his arms behind his back, his posture straight and his features unmoved. In regard to question the Pirate King presented him, where did he think he was, he looked around the hall, analysing all their faces, their garbs, their jewels, their open, stupid mouths as they gawked at Bradai. He looked at the Islanders, as primitive as they were, and their leader who sat so comfortably next to Shaydrin, believing he was royalty himself. When he finished looking *Exactly* Where he was, he returned his gaze to the man who confronted him with the question to begin, up there on his dais. \"Up until five minutes ago, I thought I was at a ball. A gathering of esteemed individuals to embark on all matters of class and sophistication. I believed I was at a ball where guest rites and the honour of status and birth was respected, regardless of nationality. It appears from where I stand now, that is all to the contrary.\"\n\n\"You called for the unwarranted arrest of myself, members of the Skagerlly family and David Brass, and did not expect so much as a retort? If that is the case, you may not be the man I was hearing so much about. There men on the Winged Watcher. Armoured men,\" He let that hang in the air for a moment, as he heard the torque of strings of crossbows aiming from the balconies and around. \"Lay siege to *This* City? No. Never in a millennia. You've ensured the walls of Tonate Proper could withstand the harshest and coldest winds a couple of Northern savages could conjure up. But the people. The people is what you are concerned with. *Your* People,\" He stared up at them all, with his black ember eyes. \"All I know as of this second is there are armoured men and knights stepping off the Winged Watcher to ensure the safe retrieval of myself and my associates. What they will do to achieve that... I could not say. A gathering such as this certainly does attract a lot of *People,* And I am currently not in the capacity to send the order that no harm should come to any civilian of the Southern Isles.\" Finally, Reginald broke the clasp of his joined hands behind his back and raised them in an air of civility, revealing similarly prestigious rings around his lithe fingers. \"I am not a violent man, Your Grace. I am just a humble envoy from faraway lands that - unfortunately for those in attendance with itching trigger fingers and twitching sword arms - is concerned with legalities and the proper procession of events. Sir Shaydrin and Lady Kelsafyr have not even been confronted with the 'crimes' they have committed since they have entered your halls, they were just to be ushered away like cattle.\"\n\nReginald Cyroven stroked at his chin for a moment, feeling the hints of stubble forming. Being in that humid, rotten shithole of a city for that long had not allowed him the time to properly bathe or shave as he would usually like to. Nothing was neat there, on the Isles, it was all malformed and snaggletoothed. Any attempt at beauty and art was exaggerated and lurid, as with the apes that hung on their master's every word. It was the death of subtlety, everything about that peasant's haven. What was neat, however, was Reginald's reflection in his pristine ruby ring, he then looked up to the Pirate King's once again. \"Those are fine rings you have there, Your Grace. All of them. Even the plain, simply wonderful. I have a penchant for all manner of gems and jewels from all across the world, and I can spy you have a multitude of them on your person. Sixteen is it? I do not think even I would deem to drown myself in that much,\" He stared up at him, then averted to whatever screaming match the Sea King and Gitten Maith were having. Reginald could hardly believe they were related. \"One for every wife, is that correct? One for every clan that challenged your rule and were subsequently, conquered. But you are not a man to use brute force first and foremost,\" He said, gesturing to the scene around them. \"There is always a deal to be made, Your Grace. If it is a trial you want, it is a trial you shall have. But before we begin, may I ask you, Your Grace, did Anna Barrmount show you anything of *Her* Innocence in writing at all?\" The Arch Seneschal snapped his fingers, and gestured for the servants of House Vivayn to stand down, and then proceeded to whisper something to one of the knights before moving forward to await whatever ridiculous 'trial' these lunatics could imagine."
},
{
"author": "cernunnos6082",
"message": "** **\n Shaydrin turned to face his sister, offering her a gentle hand. 'My dear sister, and our brother, gods protect him.' Something fiery boiled up in his throat, but he let it sing as he levelled a tempered glare at the king. 'Frankly, Your Majesty, I take serious issue with your calling our own sisters 'bed warmers'. That was not the intention of our delivering them into your service, Your Majesty. Pay no heed to my sister's bawdy humour—it is for their own welfare, their own growth, that we give them unto you as hands of your court. I trust that they will be treated only with the utmost decency.'\n Half-genuine, enough to sound convincing. Big Tits and Muffy meant a pittance to him compared to Kelsafyr, but something about the thought of grubby Islander hands defiling any of his kin, even the bastard half-sisters, made him quiver.\n 'Furthermore,' he continued, and allowed his brow to crinkle as he leaned a little closer, though without softening his voice at all, 'I would ***Personally*** Like to see no blood spilled by either side, for any purpose. That was not the reason for our coming here. We came eager to show you—to show ***All*** Of you—that Northerners can comport themselves no less handsomely than any other people, and we hoped to be treated no different than those we strive to emulate.'\n Frustration set his mouth in a hard, bitter line as he gazed past the king at the woman he knew now to be Anna Barrmount. 'As for myself, I had frankly hoped that the more ***Insipid*** Dramatics of our affairs at home would not chase us here. Surely you, Your Majesty, can see too how pointless this confrontation is?' \n He threw an eye around the balcony, and extended one slender, languid arm to gesture all about them. 'Between the men and women here, I perceive no enemies. Do you, Your Majesty?'"
},
{
"author": "john.08443",
"message": "A Poor Squire\nMaith Mansion\n\n The news of a fresh task had always brought upon it an extravagant excitement, usually followed instantly by immense disappointment. *\"The Tides will change\"* He muttered mockingly, anticipating the moment that the Pirate King would *Finally* Spare his work a glance. He had lost track of the amount of times he'd been summoned to the rookery - enough times where the scent of perspiration and bird shit clung to him like the waves on a summer's shore. However, this time there was a detectable difference. He was met outside by a peculiar man- one who was not the usual raven handler. His back was arched to a proportion that could not possibly have been human, and within his clammy claws he tightly held a parchment that shook as if it weighed ten stone. \n\n \"Make straight for the King. Consult no one about the paper you are delivering.\" The strange man said, violently grasping the Squire's hand, transferring the letter to his possession. Along with the letter came about an inch thick coat of a strange wet goo that was part sweat and part an indescribable concoction of coagulated fluids. *\"This is it.\"* He angrily thought to himself. *\"After this, I am going home. Fuck, even North maybe. At least they'll put me to work.*\" Without hesitation, he turned his back on the strange old man and briskly walked in the opposite direction. The seal that etched the paper together was one he'd never seen before - a boastful concoction of reds and golds, emblazoned by a tight black fist. It occurred to him that his presence was once again about to be outdone by a mere piece of paper; the whole of his complex consciousness would once again go entirely ignored in favor of whatever inanimate and unthinking words lined the body of this letter.\n\n__\nHe let out a sigh, knocking thrice on the hard oak that separated him from the King's chambers extending the gently wrapped parchment. For years, this poor squire had done nothing of significance. However, in his hand may lay the cause of the deaths of thousands. Yesterday, he was insignificant; today, he is destiny. \n\n\n*To the King of the Southern Isles,\n\nReceive this letter as confirmation of what you've likely surmised my intentions to be. Hearing of the exploits that have occurred under your festivities have inclined me to believe we have reconcilable interests. Your unmatched reputation as a man of business causes me to be comfortable extending this offer of mutual benefit, where I receive your machines of war and you receive their spoils. I require southern craftsmen to construct me three trebuchets branded with my sigil. Spare every liberty in birthing these horrors, craft them with extreme prejudice and with full knowledge that their purpose is to irrevocably destroy. Moreso, I require one of them to be a truly hulking monstrosity - a beast of proportions never before seen. Once my armies have received confirmation of your acceptance, instructions of delivery will be hastily provided.\n\nLord John De Burgh*"
}
] | 674 | 3,067 |
595.333333 | 2021-09-28 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake had already stood up well before King Bradaí's interjection in the slowly escalating situation. In spite of all of the fun he was having, Galt-Drake's patience was wearing slightly thin with these mainlander smoothbrains. If this had kept going on, with the Arch Seneschal's thinly veiled threats of violence and the smug non-cooperation of the Skagerllies up until this point, Galt-Drake would likely have resorted to less kind actions. Truth be told, Galt-Drake could have had that entire table, Vivayn attendants and all, massacred by his highly disciplined and skilled crew of men. However, that was not something the privateer could bring himself to do. The situation was nowhere near a point that would require such brutal actions. As Galt-Drake calmly looked around at the situation and observed the situation carry on, he caught the amber eye of Valkrin Farensun, who had been watching the entire time from a dark corner of the mansion halls. The two locked eyes briefly, and it seemed they'd shared the exact same desire in that immediate moment: To just kill these Northern fucks and be done with this ball. A calmer mind prevailed, though, and nothing happened. The men under Galt-Drake's command had started to slowly close the circle around the Skagerlly table, but the tone of Galt-Drake and his crew shifted entirely upon the intervention of King Bradaí. The moment King Bradaí began to speak, Galt-Drake and his men stood at full attention, immediately morphing into a statuesque sort of king's guard. This was a blatant showcase of the discipline that Galt-Drake and his crew possessed, which put them on a level above the other various crews that Bradaí had under his vassalage. Had it been any other captain with any other crew, the situation would have been entirely different. Even in spite of the stereotype of Southern Isles savagery, Galt-Drake and his crew perfectly epitomized the discipline, cunning, and loyalty of the Privs. They were not just damn good Privs, but they were the pinnacle of what every Priv aspired to be."
},
{
"author": "perfectlypeachy",
"message": "Kelsafyr Skagerlly,\nBradai Marth's Mansion, The Southern Isles.\n\nKelsafyr remained uncharacteristically quiet, hazel eyes panning from face to face. Men, she thought, how she could do without them. The stench of bravado was enough to turn her stomach. \n\nShe began to anxiously pluck at the very edge of her fingernail, something she hadn't done since she was a young girl learning to navigate her father's wrath. She wished so desperately to be saved from this hellscape, for somebody to step forward and proclaim her innocence. Her innocence, of which, was far from fabricated. Even now, with such hatred in her heart for her brother, Mallsrek, she was furious at how the southerners had treated him, how he was left alone and broken in a dank cell infested with rats and maggots. She inhaled a sharp breath, eyes brimming with tears, not for the heir to House Skagerlly, but herself.\n\nHer gaze then settled upon the Pirate King, the instigator of this nightmare, and there it remained. There was something strange about her unwavering stare upon his features. If he were to look at her, or anyone for that matter, they'd notice her tight grip upon the edge of the table, knuckles white and rigid. She felt that if she wanted to, with the amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she could crush that chunk of wood beneath her very grasp. Her eyes began to blur, and they tunnelled in on Bradai's eyes until they began to swirl into one black blob, an inky mass of darkness. She heard a shrill ringing in her ears and the muffled talking of the Arch Seneschal, Reginald Cyroven. Her grip faltered upon the edge of the table, and her hand slumped forwards, along with her posture. She hadn't any strength remaining to compose herself, lifting a hand to her face, where she began to cry.\n\n—\n\nTears rolled down her cheeks, dropping onto the floor into neat little puddles. She sobbed quietly, but her body wracked in such a way that it was clear she was weeping. Far from an act or a calculated move of manipulation, but a woman in distress. How strange it was to see the once proud and demanding Kelsafyr Skagerlly curled forwards and small, How strange, genuinely, to see her so frightened and anxious. \n\nShe stood very abruptly from her seat, the chair scraping against the marble floors. Her face drained of colour, and instead of a healthy pink, her cheeks flushed with a sickly green. A trembling hand rose to cover her mouth, and she forced herself to swallow a lump that had formed in her throat, that felt as if she was pouring shards of broken glass down her oesophagus. She indulged herself in an unsteady step forwards, and the circle tightened around her as the Privateers too indulged themselves in a steady foot forwards. She sniffled, choking on her breath as she pressed a hand to her throat, lower lip quivering as the tears continued to roll off of her face.\n\n\"Please,\" She began, pleading with the nearest guardsman, struggling to speak coherently through her tears. \"Please.. Let - let me outside, I-. Please, I can't breathe!\" \n\nShaydrin had taken a step forwards to follow his sister, genuinely concerned with her shift in demeanour. He lifted a hand to take hold of her elbow as an act of comfort, as he often did, but Kelsafyr's response to his touch was far from what he would have expected.\n\n—\n\n\"Don't touch me!\" She screamed, physically wrenching her arm away from him, stumbling from foot to foot. She swept her gaze along the circle of kings guard, searching for one, in particular, that might take pity upon her and her declining health and allow her a moment of fresh air. \"Escort me, come with me, I don't give a damn! Please, I - I can't -.\" She inhaled a shaky breath, her frantic crying only causing her chest to tighten further. She stood there, feeling as if she might faint, awaiting some saving grace."
},
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nMaith Mansion, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake and his men continued to stand at attention, since not much was being accomplished yet in this wider exchange of veiled words. As he and his men were waiting, however, Galt-Drake, along with everyone else present, noticed the blatant anxiety-induced meltdown that Kelsafyr Skagerlly was having. Unlike most privateers, who would simply leave the girl to rot with her anxiety and cry herself to death, Galt-Drake actually possessed a streak of humanity to all of his Southern Islander cruelty. Galt-Drake silently and almost unnoticeably gestured to other nearby crewmates of his, who lurked nearby to ensure order was kept, and they approached the main circle of kingsguard. To further alleviate Kelsafyr's breakdown, the men then received another quick gesture, which was followed by them taking one broad step forwards and away from the table itself, giving the Skagerlly family more room to breathe. The crewmen that approached awaited outside the circle, and Galt-Drake stepped over towards where Kelsafyr was having her breakdown. In an unusual show of kindness, he offered her his hand.\n\n\"Come, lass,\" Galt-Drake calmly stated, a genuine polite tone to his voice, \"If ya need a breather, meself and a few of the lads will take ya outside fer a moment.\"\n\nGalt-Drake awaited a response from Kelsafyr, and fully expected her to just be acting. That thought process alone was why Galt-Drake was taking a few of his men with him, so that if Kelsafyr tried anything funny, or had a contingent outside waiting for her, he at least wouldn't be alone. Based on what he observed, though, Kelsafyr would have to be a better actor than anyone in either Northwind or the Isles had borne witness to, if she were to be faking this breakdown."
}
] | 485 | 1,786 |
488.571429 | 2021-10-04 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "``Cyprien de Lysse | Water Gardens``\n\nCyprien left the ball behind. There were still plenty of people to talk to, but his conversation with the Archon of Falsa had killed any desire for further human interaction. Knowedge of that Kolgrim woman flirting with his son had made no favours to his mood either. He knew her kind: soft voice and lowered head, but lips pressed and teeth clenched.\n\nIn any case, he'd had enough. He kept a hasty pace as he made his way out of the water gardens. Easier said than done. Islanders had little love for symmety. The gardens were a labyrinth of hedges and floral ponds designed to send it's visitors back towards the ballroom floor.\nAnnoyance soon turned to irritation. A hasty pace turned into a sprint. A sprint turned into a crash.\n\nSurprise robbed him of the chance to apologize. The man he'd run into was strange, the likes of which Cyprien had never seen before.\nHe was tall, good looking, lithe, and sinewy; with long back hair and porcelain skin. The man also dressed with all sorts of finery. Notably, he wore a blue overcoat like those of the Islander King and his generals, but with some queer motifs embroidered.\nSkulls and ivies, they were. In a way, they reminded him of Selene's obssesion with snakes and astrological patterns.\n\nNoticing the icy glare the man was giving him, Cyprien snapped back to reality.\n\"Forgive me,\" He offered his hand to the stranger. \"I did not see you.\""
},
{
"author": "a.n.n4173",
"message": "\"You keep bringing up my friendship with Lord De Lysse as if it's of some kind of offense towards you...\" Chuckled her behind a delicate hand. It was honestly starting to bother her, how often Samsom had asked about it. Was he trying to protect Bastian in the oh so noble name of friendship or was he simply trying to get on the hottest gossip? The latter sounded quite unlikely but who knows...\n\nBut Calypso couldn't constantly dance around the subject. He had asked her important questions, and she needed to measure her answer without allowing too much of herself to come to the surface. \"What do I want...\" Her lashes lowered towards the liquid in the cup resting under her chin, as if to find the answer in her reflection. Manicured fingers pushed gently to the bottom of it, raising the cup she was not holding on to up to her lips, tilting it ever so slightly to get a sip. Onyx black eyes never leaving Samsom ice-cold stare as a satisfied sigh was released. \n\nRed wine-stained lips parted as the start of a world danced on her tongue- \n\nBut right at that moment, Both their attention was taken from the hustle coming from where the main festivities were occurring. Many voices were raised all together but one above all announcing something that probably was not part of the initial plans of the pirate king.\n\n\"Sounds like History is happening...\" Murmured Calypso calmly, before standing up, the dress's folds moving around her body, jewels catching into the light like stars. The temerre lady looked down at the knight, the amused smile she had welcomed him with now shining with more familiarity as if they were coming out of this private battle as friends. \"Would be a shame to lose it.\" And held her hand out for him. \"This had been a stimulating conversation, but I fear that some of your questions will remain unanswered...\" Murmured her welcoming back that softness she had shown at the beginning. \" But I hope you may find the answers by yourself, for the most important ones at least...\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nFlitting through the Water Gardens, the Maith Mansion\n\n Flying. He was flying across the courtyard on slippered feet. Off of one stone, to skip through a disguised hedge and to converse and curtsy with the torchbearers. He tiptoed through thick roots and under surly vines, all shouting the same thing. \n\n\"The trial!\" He called, but he had moved so quickly that it seemed as if it was the wind itself that was speaking for him. \"Come to the trial! See the King's Judgement!\"\n\n The gardens were be full tonight. None of the wives had decided to attend, and their many entourages would be in tow. Unlike their husband, the wives had no love for court. Granted, their jobs was not so exciting as being the King. They, being his wives would have to oversee everything with their court surrounding them, moving occasionally to weigh in on this matter or that. The wives had things to distract themselves when Bradai held court, from a simple harp player to a troupe of dancing bears. They would recline on grand lounges and be fed iced plums and warm grapes, smoke fat cigars and the occasional puff of poppy, drink the darkest rums and the sweetest wines, all to find that listening to their husband drone on and on about the cost of shipping oranges to Terresol being ridiculous was ridiculous itself. No pleasure could make the Court of Skulls a joy when the King was in the room. When he was away, one almost forgot the place was full of heads. He tolerated no silliness in his court, except on the occasional feast day, where he left it to his council to adjudicate while he walked among the people.\n\nAlmost at once, there was a clamor as the men and women spilled down from the double stairs and to the gardens.\n\nTwo Piercers from the Isle of Shrikes, never to be seen without their great butcherbirds, were the first to lead the partygoers to the cold pools of water. All at once, servants passed through the hedges and ferns, carrying kettles of piping hot steam. They dunked them into the pools, and the Islanders, bold as they pleased, began to dip in. It was truly no different than any bathhouse found in the Mainland, but Silas was beginning to suspect that the King had begun to put on these shows to make his Mainlander guests uneasy.\n\n_Bathing in the gardens?_ Silas thought, _Tonight? Truly, Bradai?_ \n\nHe watched as a wide woman from the Isle of Lanterns settled into one of the pools, tipping the water over the edge and sending a lily pad cresting on the wave and into an adjacent pool. He thought of Puckgordon, who would be sent to fish out whatever these revelers left in his pools tomorrow morning. \n\nFor all the love he bore the King, there was surely no reason for such a display. There was no need to remind the Mainlanders where they were. The King had said himself that it was a very nice ball, and now the trial was going underway.\n\n_The trial._ Silas felt blindsided by the memory. He had forgotten about the trial, and he had forgotten to keep telling people. But he was not going. He did not enjoy his King's court, not really. He enjoyed to perform, to beguile. Bradai Maith was a merchant, through and through. He was not so much a Pirate King as he was a Fishmonger King or a Butcher King. He killed problems, cut them apart, sold them to the highest bidder and then haggled it down to a fraction of what they had originally agreed to, opting to solve it himself whenever it whenever it was cheaper. \n\nIt was just like him to stop a ball to fix this. Any other King would have imprisoned them for later, or let them go. But Bradai Maith was a merchant and he would not have been able to sleep if there was money wasting away in his dungeons. With the assassination and now this, there was little chance the King was getting any sleep anyways. _The war,_ Silas thought, _and Ilona._ He thought of her dying, but only just for one moment. \n\n\"Neigh,\" He said aloud, taking a drag from his cigarette, \"Truly, even tonight, there should be no reason for such a fearful attitude—\"\n\nAmbushed. Ambushed in the gardens. When he was pushed he fell with a hard thud, and the wind was driven out of his chest. He had run into his assailants, but it had seemed more like that they had run into him. One was grabbing at him now, in some vain attempt to strike at his face, to claw him, to rip out his eyes. Silas was smarter than him, quicker than him, and gripped at the man's hand before pressing himself against the rich black earth with a backstep and hoisting himself up to see his attacker. \n\n\"Ah—\" The Seneschal was breathless, his ivory cheeks flushed with only the dustiest hint of pink. His grip, within Cyrpien's palm, changed as if it had been ice melting and turning to steam. Where once there was the tight grasp of a soldier, there was now only the soft courtesy of a perfumed princeling. He was thankful that the man he had run into was similarly flustered.\n\nSilas had been the one to greet Cyprien at the front of the estate, had sat near him in the Mizzen, and now was running into him at the gardens. It was clear to Silas that he did not look any more comfortable than when he arrived here. His hair was striking, the same pale color as his son's, and his purple eyes, so bright they bordered on pink. Silas thought they looked pretty, although that was probably not the word the man would have used for them. He had a pinched face, which marked him for a deceiver, lowered eyebrows which marked great and constant suspicion, and large ears, which Silas believed just looked silly. But he was dressed well enough, and certainly did have a regal quality to him. Stalwart might have been the word. He was a dutiful husband, you could tell the type with a glance after so many years in court.\n\nAny semblance of disorder passed as Silas regained himself, sliding his other hand lightly over the top of his head, to assure that no hair had fallen out of place. Once he was finished, he let go of Cyprien and bowed lightly. \n\n\"My lord, have you gotten lost?\" The Seneschal beckoned around them, pillars of steam rising up from the newly made pools. A frog hopped past their feet. \n\n\"In any case, I seem to have found you.\" The Senechal motioned to the conservatory, the great glass and copper building at the foot of the Water Gardens. In the torchlight, the glass shone black, red, orange, and white, but when the lamps were lit on the inside, the whole thing glowed a warm, twinkling yellow. \n\n\"Shall we discuss somewhere that men are not undressing?\" Silas offered the man a glance towards the greenhouse. \"It seems a small courtesy, but one that seems lost in this part of the world.\" \n\nA silence hung between them.\n\n\"We do hope you and yours do not feel _so_ out of place here.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "``Cyprien de Lysse | Water Gardens``\n\n\"If I have to be honest, Seneschal? Lately, I feel out of place wherever I go.\"\n\nFollowing Silas' suggestion, he began to march towards the conservatory. The sight of the islanders in their pools brought to mind the image of his daughter Jeanne, and her clique of good-for-nothing libertines.\n\n\"Do not worry about such displays of impudity, Seneschal. I'm unfortunately used to them. It seems that courtesy fades into the past, here and everywhere.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Conservatory, The Water Gardens\n\nThere was something about this Lord that was drawing him in. Silas wasn't exactly sure what it was. Pity was the first word to come to him, but he bat it away like a fly. Cyprien de Lysse was _sad_, but not pathetic. He watched as the man walked past him, but in the same direction of the conservatory. He looked at his little walked. \n\n_Marching,_ Silas thought. A true knight. Perhaps that was what it was. \"We are only as good as our children, what we teach and what they choose to listen to.\"\n\nThe partygoers hailed to the both of them as they passed, and the servants stiffened when the Seneschal grew near. One handed them two flutes of brandy which were, miraculously, chilled. Silas took it in his grasp and held it under his nose. In the light of the moon, the thin orange liquid looked sumptuous. \n\n\"You should drink,\" Silas said, spinning the liquid and admiring the sheen, \"These parties often go easier after a few of these. I know what it is to miss home,\" He let the glass fall to his side. Although it did not spill, it was as good as if he had poured it out. He was not drinking it. \"Or the past. I find I miss the past more than any _physical_ place.\" \n\nHe paused, opening the door to the conservatory, the warm, humid air spilling out to disrupt the crisp of the night. Silas stood on the edge of the doorframe, his silhouette illuminated by the great walls of glowing yellow glass. \n\n\"Are you familiar with a disease called nostalgia?\"\n\nWith one long hand, he beckoned him in. The flute of brandy was still in his hand, the liquid turning in the flute. The frost remained on the glass, even where his fingers touched it."
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "```Cyprien de Lysse | The Conservatory```\n\n_\"We are only as good as our children.\"_ The words echoed inside him. If true, what did that made him? The twins were proud but vain. Bastien was bright and noble. Sylvain was a runaway. Fleur had been neglected.\n\nThe glass was cold to the touch. A trick meant to impress him, product of some jealously guarded artifice. Selene was one fond of such smoke and mirrors. He did his best to show no surprise, and drank the brandy.\n\n\"Nostalgia... Perhaps. But the past is the past, and getting lost in there is unbefitting of us.\"\n\nCyprien had wondered as to the Seneschal's position in the Islander court. The one at the Keep Sempiternal held nowhere near the level of influence or authority that Maith allowed Asgarov to have.\n\n\"I say _us_ because your sway on the King's court is greater than your title suggests. I am intrigued by what you plan to propose.\"\n\nMore than intrigued he was hopeful. He had given up on dealing with the King as soon as he had witnessed his brashness. Maith belonged to a different world to the Lysses, one with different vitues and values. But his seneschal was a quieter, more pensive presence. One that could be reasoned with."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Peraz Dumagne \nThe Ball, Maith Mansion\n\nIt had felt like an aeon since Peraz had been in the company of her sister and in the heat of an argument she almost thought she was imagining her sister, swooping in to stop the argument and brighten the room.\n\nBut, when she turned her head to where she was sure Sun's voice had came from she was amazed to see her little sister hobbling towards them.\n\nIn a moment, Peraz stood and embraced her sister in a tight hold, mindful of their kemenikes.\"Sister! I though you intended to stay in the Abigreth?\"\n\nIt was then that Peraz finally noticed the buzz in the room and a yell caused her to turn towards the high table, where a woman struggled to lift the seat of a Brass, and she was looking right at her. Recognising the woman as the king's sister, she decided not to disrespect her hosts.\n\n\"My apologies, Sister. I'll be back in a moment.\"\n\nLeaving her sister, she walked to the table. Hyper aware of the attention she had been brought she made sure to play the part of the Dragon of Falsa with a confident stride and head held high. Upon reaching the chair, she bowed her head respectfully to Gitten Maith and grasped the chair along with Gitten and her men, helping hoist it up."
}
] | 341 | 3,420 |
504 | 2021-10-13 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "**Cyprien de Lysse | Conservatory of the Maith Mansion**\n\nLie down? Cyprien was willing to play the seneschal's game, but there was a limit to what he would tolerate. He had followed Asgarov expecting to discuss serious matters, not to indulge in more islander frivolity. \nHe took the pipe from the seneschal's hands, or rather, he seized it.\n\n\"If you are using this to test my worth, the only thing you will test is my patience. Speak your mind, seneschal.\"\n\nStill, he did as Silas had instructed and took a sip from the pipe. Asgarov's simpering voice came back to taunt him:\n\"This is more a test of trust than anything else, my Lord. As I said, I do not discuss business with uninteresti—\" \n\nThe voice of the seneschal faded away as his rearing overtaken by the sound of rushing blood. He had been right: Cyprien should've taken a seat. It was not the case that his legs would fail him, but that they would cease to exist altogether. His his head and limbs were plunged in some invisible water, moving slow but seemingly supported by nothing at all. And then, bliss. \n\nThe numbness quickly gave way to something more interesting, something golden. It was if he was falling, like in a dream, but there was no sickness or anxiety to it. It was shining, shimmering, twinkling happiness. He was suspended, but then, as the Senschal had told him, he began to tip to one side.\n\nJust as he began to fall, Asgarov was already there, hands on his shoulders to keep him upright. From the ether, there was a muffled and honest laugh in his ear. A hand reached out and removed the pipe from his hand and sit it on one of the desks beside him. A light hand traced across his shoulder, the fingers rimming the fine fabric across the back of his collar. \n\n\"We should really be going,\" Words from the seneschal rverberated in Cyprien's head. \"There are grevious matters to discuss.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Senschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens\n\nSilas practically led the lord from the conservatory, one hand on his lower back and the other opening doors and beckoning away servants. He brought him back through the darkened hallway, into the poppy room, and then out through the great brass double doors. When they exited the gardens were alive with revelry, and although they were outside the mirth itself seemed to radiate a kind of fire like warmth. There were Islanders smoking poppy all around them, lounging languorously in the great outdoor baths and laughing as the two of them passed by. Smoke poured from their smiling mouths and took off in the wind, the smoke twisting and curling like the silken scarf of some exotic dancer. Beyond the pools stretched the forest of Banyan trees, dark and twisting. Jars of fireflies hung from the branches, pulsing in globes made of teal glass.\n\n\"Never forget that you are safe inside these walls,\" Silas paused, looking to the man. For as small an amount as he smoked, there was no denying that it had a potent effect. He shouldn't have had him smoke the redrocks. His eyes were bright red. \"You are under my protection and _this_?\" He motioned around, \"Is _my_ estate. Is there any place you'd prefer to talk, my Lord? I do recall you and yours receiving a tour, but there are many places that outsiders are not privy to.\" \n\nThe Seneschal scoffed, and glimpsed the Lady Kolgrim from the corner of his eye. She was talking to the Dumagne boy. He gave her a glance, brief enough to be confused as a mistake, and continued walking. He would let her stew over that tonight.\n\n\"Still, it is a good night to walk. Surely you have questions that can be answered on a leisurely stroll. Or are all of them so dire as to require a private place?\" \n\nA smile returned to his lips, \"For instance...\" Silas produced a letter from his pocket, sealed with the black wax of de Burgh, \"Who currently rules over Iron Gate?\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "**Cyprien de Lysse | The Water Gardens**\n\nThe initial euphora had given way to a more subdued haziness, and that feeling would've morphed into something else had the drug not kept his humours chained when the seneschal revealed the letter.\nHe turned his head around, but smokers surrounded them on all sides.\n\n\"Surely you wouldn't want to discuss such matters with so many ears around. You may trust these people, but I do not. Why do you have a letter with De Burgh's seal? Why show it to me?\"\n\nCyprien was proud, but he knew that Northwind had the upper hand. If De Burgh had cut a deal with the islanders, then many of his fears would be confirmed, and the war may as well be a foregone conclusion."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Senschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Water Gardens\n\n\"And why not?\" The Seneschal handed the letter over to him. The seal was broken, both of them could see it now. \n\n\"You act as if we are still in the Grey Hills. If this de Burgh was say, _Araedian_, then perhaps our dear party-goers might have some cause for alarm. But they seem to have no care for us. We discuss news happening on the other end of the world,\" Silas glanced over where a group of men were rolling a keg of rum down the stairs. \n\n\"And I show it to you out of good faith. You sailed here on a prayer because you know we understand what is coming. The King will use this very same letter at this meeting tomorrow, to prove to your more stubborn countrymen that the threat is real. If it was not for Caderyn...\" \n\nThe Seneschal shrugged, \"Well, I would rather not consider what might have happened to you if the Regent Protector had been slain by Kelwynd in that swamp.\" \n\nAs they continued walking, they exited the press and moved back to the ballroom floor, up the double stairs, \"But I repeat: who _is_ this man?\" A pale hand reached out and flicked the top of the letter, \"The King was impressed with his candor.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "**Cyprien de Lysse | Water Gardens**\n\n\"He is a tyrant and a demagogue, like all those who claim rule to that accursed land. Fiery rethoric is his lifeblood and that of his empire.\nUnfortunately, the guillible throng of those steppes is quite fond of such speeches, and have amassed in numbers uncounted to ravage our lands... The lands of prince Caderyn.\"\n\nIt was a relief to know that no deal had been sealed with De Burgh, apparently. Now however, curiosity devoured him. He had to know the contents of that letter. Perhaps a clue to De Burgh's plan, one that might've gone unnoticed to the islanders. Glancing at Silas, he unfolded the letter.\n\n```To the King of the Southern Isles,\n\nReceive this letter as confirmation of what you've likely surmised my intentions to be. Hearing of the festivities you have planned have inclined me to believe we have reconcilable interests. Your unmatched reputation as a man of business causes me to be comfortable extending this offer of mutual benefit, where I receive your machines of war and you receive their spoils.\n\nI require southern craftsmen to construct me three trebuchets branded with my sigil. Spare every liberty in birthing these horrors, craft them with extreme prejudice and with full knowledge that their purpose is to irrevocably destroy. Moreso, I require one of them to be a truly hulking monstrosity - a beast of proportions never before seen. Once my armies have received confirmation of your acceptance, instructions of delivery will be hastily provided.```\n\"Siege engines,\" Whispered Cyprien. He'd known that this would be Northwind's largest invasion since the bygone days of the Empire, but reading it from his ennemy's own handwriting made it so much more dreadfully real. If these were allowed to be built, De Burgh would have a way to deal headfront with his greatest logistical obstacle: the walled cities of Pemberlum.\n\n\"Have you built any of these yet?\" He asked Silas."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nDeeper into the Gardens, the Maith Mansion\n\n\n_\"Seige engines._\" \n\nWhen Cyprien whispered those two magic words, Silas could not help but titter. His second question didn't not stem the flow,\n\n_\"A few,\"_ Silas lied between laughs. There were plans and outlines for construction, but the things were truly monstrous. Bradai had told him they would not take long to build, but the wood would have to be cut and shaped ahead of time. They had not built any, but Cyprien didn't know that. \"The King has gone so far as to test them father inland, where the teak is good for building ships. They are in an undisclosed location.\" He stopped himself from going any further.\n\n\"But it seems that for all of his eloquence, he lacks spies. He seems not to know that we've hitched our cart of a horse of royal blood,\" Silas extended a hand for the letter back. \"These trebuchets will be ours instead. The King had mentioned using them from the Leviathans, if any islands prove stubborn against the rightful Queen, but I have my doubts.\"\n\nSilas knew he was not the only one with doubts. He could see that the letter had almost made the Lord the Islander's loyalties. _Good,_ he remembered the King saying, _Let 'im wonder. We will not be pieces on 'is board._ \n\nAs they moved deeper into the wood, the path grew narrower and narrower still. The trees grew larger and their branches seemed to shade them from the rest of the party. The drooping vines seemed to eat the noise like a collection of mossy, verdant tapestries. All that remained were Silas, Cyprien, a swarm of fireflies that hung on every surface. \n\n\"I assume he will build his own anyways, but you have scouts enough to know yourself, I trust.\""
},
{
"author": "one_snek",
"message": "**Cyprien de Lysse | Water Gardens**\n\n\"I have,\" Lied Cyprien. Scout reports had turned out to be contradictory. The most reliable information came from their vassals of House Koern, but even they were unsure as to the full numbers and location of the Northwind army.\n\nMore worrying still, Asgarov had made casual mention of using the weapons against Terreme cities, which under no circustance could be allowed to happen. Cyprien had sided with Caderyn out of principle, as he would've done with Carney or any heir of the royal bloodline. He would like to see them restored, but not at any cost. Not at the cost of civil war. \nAll the more so since it was the regency at stake, not the crown itself. And said crown could have its very existence challenged if De Burgh was were to prevail in the upcoming war.\n\n\"So you plan on using De Burgh's weapons for your own ends. Fair enough. I'm happy as long as they don't reach the tyrant.\nBut that cannot be the only reason why we are here. House de Lysse has already pledged its support to prince Caderyn, so I assume there is something else you want from us. Something we can afford to give in these times, I hope.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nDeeper into the Gardens, the Maith Mansion\n\nWhen Cyprien asked it there was further payment required, Silas shook his head.\n\n\"My King is simple. All he requires is payment once the war is over and the promise of friendship. The King is good to his debtors, and better to his friends. Of course...\" Silas turned around the trunk of one of the trees, and found what he was looking for. \n\nThere was a simple tea table with a board of Ibbish Sliding Knights. He walked away from the Lord and took a seat at the table, \"While the majority of the repayment will be done through communications with the crown, vassals will be taxed accordingly.\"\n\nSilas crossed one leg over the other and let his blue slippered foot bob lazily, \"There is nothing my King loves more than to hash out these kinds of agreements. If he was not currently prosecuting some violent partygoers, he would sit with you and discuss levies and rates of return until the sun comes up. He said that although he has never been to the Grey Hills, he _is_ aware that you have inland ports. I can only assume that you will give his grace a more than honorable deal?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nWaters outside Tardide, the Southern Isles\n\nIt was one of the largest poppy farms in these waters, a plantation defended by an entire garrison of house Maith troops, wooden walls taller than two men, and constant patrols to ensure no scags even made it close enough to shore to bleed on the beach. It was more than just a plantation, it was a symbol of House Maith's power in these waters. A monument to the strength and control held over the isles by their rightful king. \nOn the windward side of the wall, two men patrolled in the dark. Haral and Yaral had been stationed on this farm for two years now, and every night was the same. The plantation was built up against a natural rock formation, with three great wooden walls protecting the rest of the grounds. Guards worked in patrols of two, with several patrols on each wall, walking back and forth to ensure that every foot of wall had eyes perched atop it. Not that they needed them, there hadn't even been an attempted attack since before Haral and Yaral were assigned here. The two men stopped, spears in their hands, staring out into the darkness of night. They couldn't see anything but for the torchlight in Yaral's hand, and the lighthouse shining above the plantation, guiding the ships to harbor. \n\n\"Why do we always get the windward side?\" Haral spoke, breaking the silence between the two. \"It just ain't fair, night's already cold enough without the bloody wind chillin my bones.\"\n\n\"Shut yer trap.\" Yaral spoke gruffyly, keeping his eyes focused on the dark expanse before them. \"It ain't even cold, we're in the bloody isles.\"\n\n\"How come I'm shiverin then?\" Haral held out an arm, pulling back his sleeve to show his bare flesh. \"Look, I got bumps on me skin from the chill!\" \n\n\"I think yer just scared.\" Yaral chuckled, waving away his comrade's foolishness. \"You terrified of scags coming in the night, eh? Don't worry, they might mistake you for a fattened hen in the dark.\"\n\n\"Shut up Yaral.\" Haral shook his head, pulling his sleeve back down and humphing to himself in displeasure with his friend's antics. \"We don't even get scags out here.\" \n\nThere was silence between them for a few moments after that exchange, neither looking at the other. \n\n\"What about the Hanged Men?\" Yaral spoke up finally. His tone was more serious than before, and he seemed to peer out into the inky blackness with more ferocity, or perhaps fear. \n\n\"They wouldn't... Would they?\" Haral shivered again, his eyes darting back and forth in the light of the torch. \"I mean, they're scags, they couldn't take a place like this... Right?' \n\nYaral shrugged \"Maybe, they say that the Hanged Men are already dead, that their leader is a wraith who lights the very seas afire, and commands a livyatan come from the grave.\" \n\nHaral's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, staring at his comrade with terror painted across his face. \"Then it's true then? The Hanged Captain? He's real? The... The Tide Barer returned?\" \n\nYaral turned to his comrade, stone faced, and put a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth, and laughed. \n\"Haral you bloody idiot! You should have seen yerself!\"\n\nHaral's face contorted into a mixture of surprise and anger as he realized what had just happened, knocking aside Yaral's hand from his shoulder. \"Wait... You were foolin with me?\"\n\nYaral kept laughing, nearling doubling over in his fit of good humor. \"Of course I was! Wraiths and fiery oceans? Its tall tales my friend, the Hanged Captain is a my-\"\n\nHis laughter was punctuated with a crossbow bolt flying through his throat, turning throating laughter into bloody gurgling as he slumped to the ground, his death throes splattering blood onto Haral's boots. \n\n\"W-wha-\" Haral had barely any time to feel the blade in his back. It went in and out in one quick motion, and Haral felt himself falling. His body lay across the ramparts, looking towards the ocean with the last of his strength.\n\nAnd in his last moments, Haral saw the ocean burn.\n\nHours later, Herein Farensun sat in the heart of the manor that had once been the beating heart of the plantation. The room still had a few bloodstains in the corners from the fighting, but his men had removed most of the remains, allowing him to use it as a temporary command post. The map stretched out on the table in front of him showed the entirety of the isles, with the waters around Tardide being dotted with red x's. Herin grabbed a quill from an inkwell and made yet another mark on the parchment. \nHerin leaned back in his chair, and let his thoughts drift towards the future. War was approaching, and not just in the Isles. He had heard talk of rallying forces in Northwind and turmoil in Terresol, and rumors that Maith himself had a role to play in both. Part of him felt dwarfed by the size of it all. Maith's empire faced down empires in Araedia and toppled thrones for sport, by comparison the Hanged Raiders were little more than gnats. But that was how it needed to be, was it not? Let Maith play his game of kings and queens, let Northwind and Terresol burn each other to the ground, none of them would notice until the flames had already consumed them. \n\nThey had been raiding Maith for weeks, every plantation, garrison or outpost in the area had been burned and looted by the Raiders, carving a path to their final target. The Dwyer Shipyards, surrounded by the wrecks of scags and raiders who failed where Herin would succeed. A challenge to Maith, one he could not refuse. \nIt was an obvious thing for anyone to see that the next target was the Dwyer Shipyard, and so Maith had two options.\n\nThe first was to ignore the threats and allow the local garrison to deal with it. It had worked in the past, but Maith was too smart to leave these things up to chance. Herin had waved the red flag, challenged his power directly, if the Dwyer Shipyards fell, then Maith looked weak, unable to defend his territory. It could cause a schism in the Isles, perhaps even splinter the great houses. Maith would not risk such a thing, and so he had only one option left to him. \nSending a fleet to defend the Shipyards would allow Maith to show his power and send a message to anyone who might threaten him, ensuring that his allies knew to be loyal. A show of force against a subversive element was what men like Maith lived for, but it came with a risk. If the show of force failed, then he would appear even weaker than he would by simply doing nothing. And nothing kills an empire faster than weakness. All of Maith's enemies would descend on him at once, and Herin would rally them all beneath his banner. \n\nStepping out from the manor door, Herin looked at his men assembled before him. They had taken a number of prisoners in the raid, and upon Herin's orders they were to be assembled in the poppy fields, bound so that they could not run. In another time, he might have sold these men as slaves, but those were the actions of a simple raider, now they would best serve as a message. \nHis first mate approached him, saluting. \n\"Sir, it's ready.\"\n\nHerin looked at the fields, he could smell the foul liquor burning in his nostrils. His men had poured barrel after barrel of the cheapest liquor on the fields, and the prisoners they had left in there. It was time to send Maith a message he could not ignore. \nHerin struck a match and tossed it into the field of green and purple. \n\nAs the ships sailed away from the plantation, the flames from the fields still burned. Massive pillars of fire sending smoke into the sky for all to see. It would attract attention, the kind Maith could not ignore. \nHerin had waved the red flag, now it was time to see if the bull would charge."
}
] | 405 | 4,536 |
126.2 | 2021-12-30 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Westward Keel, Tonate Proper \n\nValkrin had watched the girl crawl across the floor after the rat, and remembered his days catching rats to feed himself and his crew. \"Watch where you put your shit-covered hands, girl.\" Mathias piped up, but quieted down when Valkrin motioned for him to stay silent. \n\n\"You're a rat catcher, are ya? Let's see your permits then.\" The Ambereye extended his hand and waited for the girl's business license."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Mouse\nThe Westward Keel, Tonate Proper\n\nMouse rubbed the bump on her head as she peaked up at the men before her from sunken eyes, one was familiar with a striking face, but she couldn't remember where she had seen him from. The market perhaps? He looked important, maybe she had sold some rats to him. Important looking men had all kinds of need for hungry little beasts desperate enough to tear into a person's flesh.\n\n\"Permits?\" She repeated in a quiet voice,\"For catchin' wee bastards like tha'?\"\n\nShe patted her pockets for a moment before she stood and shrugged,\"I jus' 'membered, sir. I cannae read to know if I gots one.\" The end was punctuated by a nervous hiccup and her dark face reddened."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Westward Keel, Tonate Proper \n\n\"Aye, permits for catchin' wee bastards. Only man in Tonate that doesn't need a permit for that is me, and catchin' wee bastards is what I do best.\" Valkrin stood, walked over to the barmaid and asked for a cleaver. \"Now, there's more than one way to skin a rat,\" He chuckled at his own joke, \"You can come with us to the Irons, check the registry for your name. Or, you can lay your hands on the bar and Mathias here will give you the punishment for thieving.\"\n\nThe entire tavern stared at their shoes, interrupting the Kingslayer, even to save a poor girl's hands, would lead to yours laying on the ground next to hers."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Mouse\nThe Westward Keel, Tonate Proper\n\n\"It's no' thievin' if I dinna catch it!\" She argued and hid her hands behind her back.\"I'll come wi' you to the ir'ns, sir, but I needs me hands.\"\n\nMouse wondered how she would live without a hand. She'd not be able to work in rat catching and what was left of her family wouldn't support her. It would be a very hard life.\n\n\"I'm no a rat, honest.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Westward Keel, Tonate Proper \n\n\"It's thievin' if I say it's thievin',\" Valkrin growled. Turning to Mathias he grunted and beckoned for the cuffs. \n\n\"I won't put these on you yet, but test me, and I'll drag you in chains the whole way.\""
}
] | 111 | 631 |
367.75 | 2022-01-11 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - The Stilts, the Red Squirrel Tavern\n\nIt had been busy in the tavern, but nothing Ameia couldn't swerve around. Or she thought so until someone else appeared in her path to the door. She reacted a little too late, not even really being able to see who it was before face planting into what felt like a door and stumbling back. \n\nShe heard it before she noticed the pouch gone missing; the unmistakable sound of the coins hitting the floor. Next to the sound of metal on metal, there was nothing that the ears in the tavern were so keen on hearing, and she knew it. If it wasn't for the hand stabilizing her she might've fallen, but she paid no mind to whoever it was that uttered the apology. Instead her head snapped back to the table she was just at. \nAnd it was clear she hadn't been the only one who heard it, because both men were already looking at her. The one she had just robbed had pushed his chair back so hard it almost fell. His expression didn't leave a doubt that Ameia was in a lot of trouble. There was about a split second of time for her to come up with something that wouldn't end up with her being beaten into a bloody mess. \n\n\"It was their plan! They made me do it!\" The panic that had been on her face for a moment had been replaced with an almost pleading look. Her finger was pointed directly at Fabian, who she now looked at. Her dark eyes didn't seem to apologize at all. She tried to keep her posture as she realized she might have just a big of a problem if she got out of here. But that was for later, as it seemed that her quick improvisation had been enough to convince the victims.\n\n\"Ye try t' steal from me, ye slack-jawed rogue?\" \nThe men almost spat at the knight as he took a step closer, quite clearly not intending on talking it out. Slowly the tables around them started to fall quiet at whatever was going on. They weren't the centre of attention yet, but it wouldn't be long before they were."
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "** | Fabian Ambrose | **\n\nTonate Proper, The Stilts, Red Squirrel Tavern.\n\nFabian furrowed his eyebrows as the woman looked to the men behind her, and took a moment for him to understand what had just unfolded, and despite what the woman had just said, Fabian used the stabilizing hand on her arm to quickly move her behind him, interposing between her and the man, and having the side effect of putting him between the man and the purse, which was now closer to Ameia.\n\n\"Trust me, sir, this a grave misunderstanding. If I were to steal from you, why would I choose such a poor-looking fellow.\" He exclaimed with a raised eyebrow, gesturing as if to back up his point. He had no worries about if the man attacked him, he could easily dispatch him, even in a fistfight, his worry was more for the rest of the tavern, and the possibility of them jumping to the man's defence. \"You dropped your coin purse, she was just picking it up for you when I ran into her, a grave misunderstanding.\""
},
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - The Stilts, the Red Squirrel tavern\n\n\"Who are ye callin' poor-lookin', ye nasty swindler!\" The man raised his voice even more while stepping towards Fabian. His money seemed less important than the words of the knight, as the attention had fully swayed from Ameia. And he wasn't the only one. His friend from the table had gotten up as well, standing right behind him as they eyed up their new foe.\n\nMeanwhile, Ameia stood still for a moment. To say she was confused was the least. She had expected him to start denying it, either panicking or distancing himself from her. She didn't quite expect him to put himself between her and the now bloodthirsty men. It had thrown her whole idea of pinning the blame and slipping away off the table. Not to mention her act, she couldn't hold back the first sound of laughter before clutching her hands in front of her mouth. Who was this man...?\nNo matter who he was, it wasn't looking too good for them. It only took a quick look around for her to feel that they were getting more and more attention. A lot of unwanted eyes were set on them. The tension was building up. Ameia had seen it before, in the same place, and she knew the moment the first fist went flying there was no stopping. Everyone jumped at the chance of a good brawl. \n\nSo when the man in front of Fabian shifted his wait to lunge forward, lifting his fist, she didn't waste a second. Ameia jumped towards the pouch, grabbing it as she heard a first fist hitting someone and the room burst out in voices. She wasn't sure who got hit, or what was happening, but that didn't keep her from executing her plan. She yanked the pouch open and an abundance of coins went flying to the floor, followed by her yelling which somehow made it above the already existing noise.\n\"What ye grabs be yours!\"\n\nAnd chaos broke loose.\n\nEveryone scrambled to their feet and almost threw themselves on the floor where the fighting had just started. Exactly as she had hoped. Ameia regained herself and yanked on the nearest piece of clothing of the man she just accused a moment ago. It was stupid to think she could drag him along, but the tug was surprisingly hard to ignore.\n\"Run, now!\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nTonate Proper, The Stilts, Red Squirrel Tavren.\n\n\"Nothing wrong with being poor, I am in a sense, poorer- but it has made you especially ugly.\" He said as he spread out his arms, giving the man opportunity to punch, as he lunged forward, Fabian let the blow hit him. He had slightly underestimated the man's stopping power and looked up with a bloody nose and a grin, the next punch aimed for his gut- Then she yelled.\n\nHe Barely noticed as the man hit the armoured plate, possibly breaking his hand by, for all intents and purposes, punching metal. People were swarming the area and Fabian stumbled back from the sheer amount of them, only for his cloak to be tugged. He didn't question it as he let the woman drag him a lot- following at a rushed speed for what he hoped was the doors.\n\n\"Do you spend all your nights starting stampedes miss!?\" He said over the yelling, almost honestly asking. So the thief hadn't ran? He assumed she pushed the blame on him for her escape, yet she may have just saved him a beating. As they ran, he made sure to push anyone out of the way- aa some of the patrons threatened to send them to the floor as they rushed by, trying to get in on the action with the coins \"It doesn't look like 'classical' fun!\""
}
] | 372 | 1,471 |
265.25 | 2022-01-12 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - The Stilts, the Red Squirrel tavern\n\n\"Do you spend all your nights starting fights in places you don't know?!\" Ameia yelled in return when she heard the words. Alright, so the man was following her. Good.\nIt took no time for her to get to the door, swiftly evading everyone in her path like she did, indeed, spend all her nights in this kind of chaos.\nOnce she reached the door she paused to look back, one hand still holding up her skirt from running. He seemed to be fine- surprisingly.\n\"And I wasn't having fun, I was working!\" She continued before stepping outside, like always she made sure the coast was clear before moving to a darker spot next to the tavern. The chance of someone else deciding to get them outside was always there. Not to mind if the innkeeper or alewife had spotted them, those were the ones you really needed to look out for. \n\nHer heart was thumping in her chest, a stupid smile one her face as she got of the adrenaline rush she treasured so much. It wasn't until she harshly turned around that a frown appeared.\n\"What was that for! Couldn't you watch where you were walking?\" Ameia didn't seem to mind the fact the man had already proven to be a fighter, because the irritation was clearly visible on her face. She had just wasted her time dealing with two men she despised for nothing. Almost nothing. In her right hand she was still holding the pouch, which she quickly opened to look inside. There was maybe a third left of what had originally been in there. If she was lucky."
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nTonate Proper, The Stilts\n\nOnce outside, the sharp night air hitting Fabians skin, he slowly stopped, only to be pulled in one direction by the thief, still having a hand on his blade as he looked for any danger seeking fellows- but for the moment, none came, so he shifted his attention to the thief. As he looked back, her words had flown off him like water, blinking a few times. He had Paler skin, a dribble of crimson trailing down from his nose, his hair was, at the moment, seemingly unkempt, and icy blue eyes studied her for any threatening movements or attempts to steal his available meagre funds.\n\n\"I apologize, I didn't mean to run into you, but perhaps if you weren't thieving, those men wouldn't have been so eager to tear you limb from limb,\" He grumbled back, wincing as he brought two finger's up to his nose and found them covered with crimson when pulled away. He didn't have anything against thieves, most who were, did it out of necessity. But he also didn't exactly enjoy it. \"Speaking of- why did you stay? You shifted the blame to me to... Escape. So why stay?\""
},
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - The Stilts\n\nNow that she was outside and no longer put on spot she actually got to take a good look at who was in front of her. He had to be an outsider. Not only did he miss the tanned skin that every hard worker in the Isles got- no matter the skin tone you were born with- but next to every sentence gave it away. Ameia put the pouch away and made sure it was deep inside of one of her many pockets\n\"You're one to talk. Being in a place like this and having something to say about what I do.\" She said, crossing her arms while taking a defensive stance. She took pride in what she did, partly. It wasn't like most of the people there had come across the money fair either. \n\nThe next question hit right where it was supposed to. She immediately opened her mouth to reply just as quickly as she had until that point, but it took a moment.\n\"Aye... I didn't expect you to just do nothing. People tend to start to defend themselves, a few tears can do wonders.\" There was no real answer, but she didn't let room for him to speak. \"Who are you anyway? There normally aren't many foreigners like you outside the walls. Let me guess, hanging around after the festival?\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nHe gave a slight chuckle at her words taking out a piece of cloth tucked away, wiping his face to clean, slightly smearing the blood before going over it again. Giving her a raised eyebrow when she called him a foreigner, shrugging. He didn't mind but was slightly ashamed it was so- obvious. The same applied for the calling out of him being there in the first place.\n\n\"I... Was looking for work.\" He grumbled, looking back at the tavern before starting to walk in the opposite direction, cloak billowing in the late afternoon breeze. \"Fabian Ambrose... I came here for the melee, ended up helping capture assassins, and got a nice reward for it... I assume you are from here?\" He muttered, stopping and waiting for her to join him, not wanting to stick around the area for much longer."
}
] | 267.5 | 1,061 |
312.5 | 2022-01-13 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - the Stilts\n\nThere was a moment of doubt when Fabian started to walk. Ameia didn't know him, and she had just tried to get him beaten up by blaming a crime on him. Should she know better than to join him? Probably. But like most of the time her curiosity won, and she quickly joined him. He was an outsider anyway- she knew these streets like the back of her hand. She would be fine.\n\n\"Sounds like the Isles. Welcome!\" Ameia exclaimed in a half joking manner, \"Which poor bastard did you save?\"\nWhile talking her eyes kept shifting between the makeshift houses they passed, thanks to the fading light of the sunset most smaller alleys, mostly just gaps between the houses, looked like black holes.\n\"Aye. Been here for most of my life by now, I live close to here. I'm Ameia.\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nTonate Proper, The Stilts\n\n\"Uhhh... I don't quite know, I suppose the King? It was the folk at the ball- the Skaggerlies were the culprits- I think?\" He said with a chuckle, hand still resting in the pommel of his blade, giving glances behind them, cloak billowing. \"I... I don't remember it, to be honest,\" He said with a Shrug, before nodding and glancing at her. \"Then I will walk you home, you saved me from being stripped to nothing or worse, so it's the least I could do.\"\n\nAs he walked, he continued to clean his face, blood still slowly trickling from his nose, falling back and letting her lead. For being a sell-sword, he had impressive equipment. The Breastplate under his cloak was- high end, the blade on his hip seemed to be commissioned- maybe a hand me down? As her eyes shifted, she found Fabian picked up on it and brought his icy eyes to bear on the shadows, watching them carefully. \"I come from the North, so the south has proven to be an interesting experience, to say the least. But since I got an offer I dare not refuse, the isle's might be my home for the foreseeable future.\""
},
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - the Stilts\n\nIt seemed like she would almost trip over her own feet once she realised exactly which assassination he meant. \n\"You were one of them that saved Bradai?\" The way her head snapped back and her face tensed up made very clear she wasn't in favour of what happened. Ofcourse she had heard of it, despite not being there. Everyone had heard of it at this point. Ameia had thought it was stupid to even try something at such a crowded event, but ever since the ships had left the harbour she had heard more and more rumours about how the Skaggerlies weren't the only ones that had it out for the Maith family. \nAs she bit through the slight anger that had made its way up, she grinned.\n\"Do you think I need your protection?\" She now fully turned back, walking backwards a few steps while dramatically putting her hand against her forehead as if fainting, continuing in what was supposed to be some fancy, mainland, noble tone, \"Oh no, my Lord, whatever shall this Lady have to do when she gets mud all over her golden laid, silver lined, dress?\"\nThough the gesture was nice, she was used to this walk, and with the darkness as her cover she could move around almost unseen. Besides, they only needed to cross a few more lines of huts before they got to grounds where she could consider herself safe, yet she didn't decline either.\n\n\"You're from the North?\" Just as fast as the earlier annoyance had come, it seemed to make place for interest. \"You're a long way from home. How North?\"\n\nAmeia couldn't hide her eagerness, she didn't get to speak to a lot of people from her past home, they were so far apart that there were few who travelled to the Isles. Time after time she proved that there was something that this island couldn't satisfy in her.\n\n\"An offer that was too good to refuse, or one with nasty consequences in doing so?\" She had turned around again earlier, and continued to walk on. She seemed to feel no shame or secrecy at all about asking anything. \"Now I'm curious who you've found to give you such an offer.\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\nTonate Proper - The Stilts\n\n\"Well- more the others than me...\" *He said with a shrug of his shoulders. Looking away for a moment as they walked past the homes, still on alert for other assailants, giving a thoughtful glance at her.* \"Do you disapprove? Trust me, I won't do anything, just protected order where I could, since if anything happened, innocents may have died.\" He said simply and concisely before seeming to flush at her second portrayal, stumbling over his words for a moment. \"T-that's not what I mean. It always helps to have another person with you is all...\" He mumbled, slightly amused at the accurate portrayal, although concerned he had insulted her. Quickly distracted by her mention of the north- which brought him back to that normal composure.\n\n\"The Witherland's... Ashfield to be exact. It has been- a long journey.\" He muttered, looking down to his sword for a moment, before giving her a small smirk paired with a raised eyebrow. \"Why, planning a trip to the cozy north?- oh and it's just a job offer, so both. I had no money after coming here, I was relying on finding work...\" He paused for a moment, although seeming to watch her carefully, white hair falling in curls over his face- his hair was oddly styled for someone who looked like a knight. \"A member of Clan Drase, although it's more an offer to see if I am right for what he's looking for..\""
}
] | 301.5 | 1,250 |
1,682 | 2022-01-15 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "hobbit_viking77",
"message": "Tiny Vik\nMaith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nEight days. Eight days had passed since Vik came to the Isles. Eight days of revelry, eight days of torture, and eight days of conflict for the Tiny one. On one hand, the victims of the court were murderers, and slavers, however something tugged at him. The court proceedings themselves were the source of the problem. He had to remind himself that even though Bradai had built this nation from freed slaves, it was still a far cry from the perfect nation he wished to build, even though the mortar and brick of each was the same. He had to admire the Islanders in a way, they had built a system around their Tide's Bearer Creed, which was the other side of the same coin as his Pilgrimage, so he didn't interfere with the trial, or the whippings, choosing to instead see an example of what his future might hold.\n\nTiddlywinks and him watched the whippings every day, they also saw parts of the de-handing, and the second proclamation of war, all from the Maith Mansion itself. Tiny Vik was actually surprised at the convenience. With the threat of the Northern \"Barbarians,\" And the priority the foreign diplomats held, the only real security he had to deal with were the Sapphire Seneschal's Wards placed throughout the halls. He didn't recognize the design, so he made a note to visit Azarya and get an account of their take on magic. Despite the obvious skill it took to craft these defenses, it was a simple matter to bypass them once you knew they were there, yet it gave Vik multiple opportunities to admire the craftsmanship in the glyphs. Silas was certainly expecting someone, thankfully it wasn't Vik.\n\nDusk passed on the eighth day, and the Golden Faced man had begun to grow impatient. He had to admit he had expected some kind of messenger to send for him regarding the King's meetings, expecting to be among them. *No matter,* He thought as he skipped towards a window, *I can always make my own meeting.*\n** **\n\nSecurity was tight around the King since the lockdown, even a week after the initial threat. Guards on every door, and, unfortunately, Vik entered many empty rooms in search of the King. He almost gave up hope, when he spied the door to the King's study. It didn't pop out as unusual at first glance, however after the sun set he noticed the guards at the door scratching their ears as each servant passed, and the servant seemed to soften their footsteps outside the door. Curious, Vik made his way to a wall adjacent to the room that had no guards stationed, only a patrol. Once the black-clad guards passed by, Vik produced a small piece of glowing chalk. He approached the wall, and drew a small oval barely 4 feet tall. The wall within the circle pulsed with green light, before fading away to reveal a door. Vik turned the knob and stepped through, the door fading away as quickly as it appeared once it closed behind the dwarf.\n\nThe King's study was a wonder in and of itself. He had visited Lords before, and many of them had shelves of their favorite books, but Bradai's study truly felt like a library curated by the man himself. When he entered there was very little light. A single candle remained, even though there was obvious evidence of multiple candles having burned in the office over years, thick walls of wax forming with the help of heat and gravity at the corners of the mantle, desk, and various shelves. Vik glanced around, waving his hand to extinguish the last candle flame that persisted.\n** **\n\nBradai was hunched over his desk, snoring quietly, his red wiry beard following the flow of air with each inhale and exhale. Vik waddled over to one side. In the darkness he would almost call the scarred man \"Cute.\" His eyes flitted behind his eyelids as he painted various dreams to take part in. Vik giggled quietly at the scenario, tiptoeing closer to one of the greatest kings on this side of the planet. He reached out a hand at the sleeping face, closing his fingers slowly. He could end it right here. The Isles, the Invasion, his dream of the Southern Federation against the Mainland. He could snuff everything out in the time it would take for Bradai to have a bad dream. He sighed, relaxing his hand, he doubted it would satisfy him. Instead Vik peered over his shoulder at the book Bradai had been reading, A great and thick tome about the trade of rice over long distances. The smaller man waddled to the opposite side of the desk, plopping himself in a cushioned chair, and waited.\n\nTime passed, and the sky grew darker as any trace of the sun vanished completely. Vik sat there for another hour to make sure he could be as dramatic as possible. Then, with a lift of his hand, he slammed the book closed in front of the sleeping king with a loud *SMACK*!\n\nThe Pirate King had been dreaming.\n** **\n\nIn his dream, was at his desk, in the library, where he had fallen asleep. Silas and Ilona were standing side by side, as they were wont to do when they needed something from him. The chairs were there as well, the ones that he had moved to the breakfast parlor after Ilona had been sent away. She was there now though, talking to him, although she looked older than he remembered. Silas was talking to him as well, but he was younger. He looked the same, except he had that mustache he had grown after they won the war. The room was bathed in sunlight, and when Bradai looked up to see if the curtains were drawn, he realized they were not there at all, and that he was in the past. The gardens were sparse, the trees stunted, the bookshelves empty. He stood from his spot behind the desk. \n\"We are moving in,\" Bradai said, and picked the ledgers up off of his desk. His knees hurt. He was just as old as he'd ever been. \n\"_We_ are,\" Ilona said. Silas gave him the odd side glance, raising an eyebrow. \n\"And me?\" He asked. His body was old, but his voice was like that of a child. \n\"You're going to war,\" Ilona said, curtly, and turned away. Then she dropped to her knees, layed down on the carpet, and died. There was blood on her face, and on his fists, and in his rings, and on his cheek. He brought up a thumb and wiped it away, and set the mirror down on his table. Men, boys, were standing before his desk. He was not sure where they had come from. They were like the skulls behind his throne. The sun was gone, and there was a storm to take its place. The doors were thrown open and his library was blown to pieces. The pages of his books swirled around him in the wind, but he could not hear the gales in his ears. One of the men was tall, dark, with long black hair tied up into thick braids. His body had pink scars and tattoos the color of the sea. It was the Tides Barer. His eyes were milky white, cloudy and pale. \n** **\n\nHis long arm extended and his gnarled fist closed in upon itself until just a skeletal finger, knotted and crooked like a reed, stood erect before him in accusation. When the Tides Barer spoke, it spoke in his father's voice:\n\"Fer me,\" The Tides Barer laughed a dry, wheezing laugh. \"Fer me. Ye've given me vhese young souls,\" And Bradai could see that it was true. They were dead. All dead. Even the Tides Barer, whose face was sick and fetid. His face sagged over his eyes, his jaw hung open and his skin had hung off of it like a poorly made mask, heavy with dark blood and rot. The pit of his mouth beneath shone in the darkness like a black eye, and it's teeth chattered dryly: \"You were not vhere, to break th' shackles, my boy. We must all do our part. Yer 'atchet is blunt. Sharpen it and 'old it fast to ye, to send more souls down into the depth to continue our war. Our timeless war. Drag yerself deeper, my boy, and drown in the blood. Earn yer name.\"\n\"I will not be a slave, not for ye,\" Bradai said, but the word \"Slave\" Sounded like \"Son\" On his tongue, and then he felt the blood pour out of his mouth. He had bit down hard. He felt his teeth pass his lips, like bobbing bodies in the river. His father had struck him.\n\"Then ye will be the whipping boy!\" Byron-Pat cried and brought his hand down again for another strike.\n** **\n\nThe resounding thud of a leatherbound book slamming shut awoke him from his dream. In that moment, the entire affair with Ilona and the skulls and the ghostly Tides Barer all became a distant memory and in an instant the Pirate King could not recall exactly what had made him so uneasy. His body felt numb, and for a moment all he could do was open his eyes. The library was bathed in a pale moonlight, and every color in his magnificent library had been turned to grey. The air was cool but there was a warm and floral breeze coming in from one of the tall doors that had been left ajar. For some reason, his first thought was to reprimand Ilona, but she was gone. He smacked his lips. His mouth was dry. \nWhen he straightened his back and sat at the table, he realized he was not alone. \n\"FUCK—\" The Pirate King shouted, and in an instant reached under his desk to remove a large knife, about the size of a dirk, to defend himself. \"—king...\" His voice soften as his eyes caught up with the rest of him, \" 'ells...\" He petered off, resting the knife on the top of the desk. He was relieved, but not amused. No smile came over his face.\n\"Well,\" The Pirate King said. He knew who Tiny Vik was. He did not know _what_ Tiny Vik was. He did not intend to start harboring any Fae who refused to leave. \n\"Do you take some pleasure in sneaking up on me?\" The Pirate King asked, rubbing sleep out from one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. When he stopper, his fingers curled around the hilt of the knife. \"Does it amuse you to see me sleeping? To fucking scare me? A trained ape, to shout and clap for you? I 'ave 'ad enuff uff clapping and shouting for one festival, fank you.\" \nA single giggle escaped Vik after the startling display from the Pirate King rising from a dream, and he brought up a hand quickly to cover his mouth with his palm to stifle it.\n\n\"Such hostility,\" He began, \"I simply woke you. You're the one making such a fuss about it.\"\n** **\n\n\"By the way, *Hello.*\" Vik said after clearing his throat, \"I must say you're a lot nicer looking than your coin profile.\"\n\nVik rolled an Isles Coin he held up for comparison across his knuckles, slowly before dropping it down his sleeve. He then kicked out his feet, one foot over the other, wiggling his toes under his pink bunny slippers, and reclined against the back of the cushion with his hands behind his head.\n\n\"Speaking of, *Loved* The festival. I have one of my own back in Akno, and I'm definitely stealing an idea or two from you.\" He said, with another giggle.\n\nThe Pirate King looked at Tiny Vik through tired eyes, \"And 'oo will _you_ be whipping in the town square, I wonder?\" His voice was dull and bored, but there was a hint of a smile upon his lips. \"My people do not need to look at vheir coins to see me. I grace vhem wiff my presence often enuff.\" The was a brief pause as Bradai leaned forward to get a better look at the man across from him. The golden face looked back at him, the eyes and mouth full of shadow. The holes seemed to exude darkness. It unnerved him. \"And I do not 'ide be'ind a mask,\" He added, continuing: \"I 'ave no patience for smalltalk.\" \n\n\"To be fair, dear king, I am not *Your* People,\" Vik also leaned forward, \"And trust me, I am not hiding behind anything.\"\n\n\"Seriously, not even an offer of tea? Such manners.\" Vik pulled his haversack around to his lap before continuing, \"Fine then, I came with a simple proposal that threatens to complicate itself. You and I both have interests coming to a head in Terresol, the way I see it , this leaves us with three very clear options: We can leave each other alone, We might even be able to work together, or if you really wish, we can stand on opposite sides of the field.\"\n** **\n\nThe Pirate King was not moved. \"I do not wish for anyfing but peace. I'm tired,\" He shrugged. \"Should we fight, forever and ever, you and me? No. Caderyn Vortigern is tha best choice, and 'e 'as an heir. A good friend uff mine, to 'old my interests close to 'is 'eart after I put little Fleur in Sol. My—\" _daughter,_ he wanted to say, \"Heir will be fighting alongside 'im. If she wins, she gets to come back. If you stand in the way uff vhat, she _will_ destroy you. You should mark vhat well,\" He was tired, yes, but there was a flicker of something pleased back there, deep in the grey of his eyes. \"Make me a better claim vhen peace, please.\"\n\n\"Oh how scary.\" Vik wiggled his hands dramatically, \"Your ship full of Azaryan Heirs, fighting for a Terreme exile, to support Islander Interests. You've quite the collection of people from all nations Bradai. Regardless, I don't think you and he have forever to spend fighting me, my friend, though that would be fun.\"\n\nVik began to pick at one of his nails, \"Besides, you misunderstood me. I'm not here, begging for peace on my hands and knees like your fantasy of 'Mainland' rulers. I'm here with a gift...\"\n\nVik pulled his oaken box from his bag, placing it on the desk.\n\n\"...And a warning: Your petty little invasion will not stop me. I have shown the people a taste of what is to come and putting your puppet in place will not be as simple as you wish to frame it.\" He coughed once, readjusting himself in his seat. \"But I am not here to make you my enemy, just as I am not here to bend the knee. If you want taxes, we can negotiate a term and percentage, if you want trade, all the better. However in return you will allow any who wish to remain free of Vortigern rule the opportunity to *Peacefully* Cede. Maybe then we can be friends, my sweet, I do have a curiosity about that husband of yours.\"\n** **\n\nThe Pirate King was not moved, \"Vhat is not 'ow it works. 'e is no puppet, just my friend. As much as you Mainlanders would love it to be so, I do not control Caderyn or his niece, the Queen. No.\" The comment about his \"Husband\" He ignored completely, as if Vik had not even said it in the first place. His face remained implacable. \n\n\"Did you know vhat Wisdom Serafina offered me the same offer as you, just now? For me to name my price, to involve myself in your ports,\" The Pirate King pursed his lips, \"But I will tell you what I told 'er: Only when my men are in your lands, vhen I shall give you my numbers. You will feel differently about my conditions after I've burnt your grain and sunk your ships.\"\n\nA brief silence hung between them before Bradai let out a single bark of a laugh. \n\n\"I joke,\" The Pirate King grinned, \"I will need your grain and ships, of course. I would never burn vhem. But...\" The Pirate King reached under his desk and grunted, lifting a stack of leather business ledgers onto his desk, atop a treatise on the transportation of rice. The books fell beside the oaken box with a resounding thud. The Pirate King brought his thumb up to his mouth, ran the pad of it across his tongue, and began to flip the thick pages of parchment. \n\n\"A deal wiff my company...\" He began, \"\"Is only good as long as I remain alive and my Isles are secure. And I will only ever remain alive if I 'ave allies to watch my back and keep me safe, aye? I need peace, and order. When my heir comes into my power, the Mainland _will_ attack. Vhey will seek to destroy everyfing I've made. Would you join vhem?\" \n\n\"I came here to make a pal Your Majesty and I didn't mean to imply that was my offer as simple as it was. I wanted you to name your preferred price as the businessman with more experience I don't want to waste your time haggling.\" Vik curiously thumbed at one of the ledgers that fell in front of him fascinated at peeking at the order behind the curtain of the \"Chaotic\" Isles.\n** **\n\n\"And what kind of friend would I be if I helped gang up on you? In fact, what kind of friend wouldn't rush to the aid of someone they care about?\" Vik snapped the leather cover he was playing with shut, \"From a certain point of view, you could gain a lot from this. The grateful lands that take up your deal would naturally grow as allies, and you wouldn't have to invade them and put them under a ruler they had problems with. You would be gaining an ally, have a foothold for your invasion, and quell potential rebellions all with one stone.\"\nBradai looked at him gravely, with eyes as grey as slate. \n\"You do not understand,\" He said. \"When I die, what will 'appen? Vhere will be no funeral. Vhere will be no crying and mourning period. Araedia will call it's banners, from the mountains to the Little Bridges. Every single one uff vhem, from the serfs to tha Kings will put down vhier shovels and scepters alike. Terresol will join, as will the Ibbish, because the Pantheon will demand it and the Lords will take the opportunities granted to vhem,\" These were old thoughts, that much was obvious. The words seemed repeated, rehearsed, but not often given voice to. These words were the _truth._ \"And when my loyal _lords and ladies_ 'ear vhem coming, what will vhey do vhen? Vhey'll try and take 'ostages, rescue vheir stolen daughters and destroy my city in the process. Vhey'll try and steal from my treasury, to do what I did to tha Mad King, because my Islanders are cruel in vheir ambitions. Fires will break out. Fhousands will die before the Mainlanders touch down on the Big Isle.\"\n** **\n\nHe grew silent after that. He had to stop himself. \" 'oo vhen, will support _you?_ When vhere are enemies on every side, wiff nowhere to go but the lawless seas? Where would you rush to, to save me? I am dead. I do not need friends when I am dead. I befriended Anyanka Durkhan and Astoria 'as brought me nuffink but 'eartbreak and woe. It will fall the moment she passes, unless her son is ready, and I do not like 'is chances as of yet. The world will be dark for all of us, and so we _must_ see the bigger picture. A united Terresol is a force to be reckoned wiff. Vhat is what everyone wants, it seems.\" \nAgain, he grew silent. But there was something in his slate grey eyes, a speckle of silvery blue that flickered enticingly. \"But if _you_ would like, what I _would_ like, you will 'ave to wait. Friendships take time, I'm afraid.\" With a glance, the Pirate King reopened his ledger and flipped back to where Vik had slammed it shut. \n\"My price is patience and trust. People want two fings from me. Eivher vhey want my goods or vhey want my guidance, but it does not work vhat way. It is a package, vhey are in a sack togevher. You must take bofh, or none at all. Wisdom Serafina rejected my offer and it will prove to be very unwise indeed. Shall you find common cause wiff 'er?\" \n\"Trust me, Bradai, I don't require just one of your goods or your guidance, I simply see no reason why we should use blood and steel to carve a line in Terresol between us, when it can all be handled in a civilized manner.\" Vik tapped at his chin thoughtfully, \"No, I have no intention of finding common cause with the idiots in charge of the Pantheon. They worship a ball of light, and neglect the human soul, I would see their blight cured.\"\n** **\n\n\"I want to trust you, Bradai, but I will not trust the Vortigerns without cause. I can be patient until you take Sol, I can even play pretend in your idea of a 'United,' Terresol. As long as I have security against your friend waging another war with my people in *My* Gardens.\" He began to stop before something crossed his mind, \"Actually Your Kingliness, besides a future for the Isles and your friend on the throne, I'm afraid I don't know what *You* Would like.\"\n\nThe King's eyes narrowed, \"You should not trust me. My goal is not the destruction of the Panfeon.\" He stood from his desk and over to the drink cart in the corner of the room. When he knelt down to unlatch the wicker doors, he placed a hand on the side of his hip and groaned under his breath. He was tired. He would need a drink for this. \n\"I will sell you out for a barrel of mealy rice. I will,\" The Pirate King, then seeming so old, let out a raspy honest laugh. He grabbed a glass decanter of dark brown rum from inside the drinking cart and removed the glass stopper. He poured into one of the silver goblets on the cart's glass surface and took the goblet in hand. He took a small sip and closed his eyes. \"I need you to understand the terms of our agreement.\"\n** **\n\nThe Pirate King moved slowly across the room and sat down at his desk chair, a large scoping wicker seat with cushions on the arms, back and bottom. \"You say you will pretend. Vhat is good. But I need you to pretend...\" The Pirate King paused to emphasize his point, \"Forever, aye? The Panfheon is strengfh, do you understand? You are...\" He lifted his hand and sought for an answer. Silas had told him something about mages in Terresol, spying on the Dumagne bastard. Was this one of them? He was from the south, that was much clear. Even if he wasn't, he still was, in a sense. Mages were mages, even if they didn't all know each other. _That mask,_ he thought, and couldn't help but chuckle. \"You are very droll,\" The Pirate King said, finally. Then he cleared his throat. \n\n\"But if I wanted droll, I'd get a fucking jester.\" \n\nWith a grunt, he leaned forward and placed the chalice upon his desk. \"I joke,\" He said, with no emotion. \"But seriously? What are you? Tha Panfeon it's an institution. You are...\" He shrugged a shoulder and raised a few fingers to poke the sleep out of an eye. \"A mask? You want to take down the Panfeon, you 'ave to kill many, many men. Even more knights. You'll take cities and burn vheir most beautiful buildings down tha ground, but vhat will only make vhem angrier. Vhey'll come bubbling up from 'oles in tha ground like angry wasps, buzzing and stinging. Do you know 'ow many men vhey 'ave to kill to stop your rebellion? Just one.\"\n\nThe Pirate King placed his hands beneath the ledger on his desk and began to point out words with a finger.\n** **\n\n\"Rice, rum, wood,\" He flipped to another page and continued to guide Vik's eyes up and down the parchment sheets, \"Ships, sugar, cotton, salt,\" He flipped the book around, \"I make a profit on vhese fings. Now, tell me where you see \"Whims and wishes\" Marked upon my ledgers. I act as a King _should_ act. I 'ave no dreams. I do not want anyfing. My existence is a fucking fhorn in the paw of a lion. I 'ave made myself useful, and vhats the only reason I'm allowed to be left alive, do you understand me? So I'm _fucking_ burrowing in. Wriggling.\" Bradai leaned forward and picked up the chalice, bringing it to his lips and sucking down the rum inside. \"If you are 'esitent to pick up a sword, your people are fucking terrified. You should fink about vhat, go to war, and when eventually we do meet again, perhaps you shall know my price, as opposed to asking me to form an opinion on a...\" The Pirate King paused and raised an eyebrow, \"Are you in bed wiff de Burgh?\"\n\n\"'I want peace and order, but I'll burn your rice; Trust is my price, but do not trust me; You must look at the bigger picture, but I am focused on only half of that.'\" Vik had lowered his voice an octave to imitate his quotes. Reaching into one of his sleeves and producing a ripe banana, he peeled it as he continued.\n\n\"You are very silly, and you contradict yourself sometimes.\" He bit into the banana, a chunk disappeared as he pulled it from the shadow, and his words began to sound muffled as his tongue moved around the fruit. \"You're only half right, though, the Pantheon is not strength, it is order, corrupt and vile order, but still order. Some people use order to construct a facsimile of strength, but one does not depend on the other.\" He paused to swallow, \"Feyshore believed it to be strength too, and now they're scattered into the Nobles that do nothing but count coins, the mercenaries who became knights, and the Amorothi who worship ancestors and magic.\"\n** **\n\nVik giggled to himself as he put the unfinished plantain back up his left sleeve when de Burgh was brought up, and he thought about that for a second. *\"Why would he ask that? Unless de Burgh is moving south soon, instead of waiting for the war to pass.\"* His last report said there were still pockets of rebellion in Northwind, and he assumed de Burgh would spend a few years crushing them before setting his sights south, obviously that would not be the case.\n\n\"Hardly in any case you're thinking. De Burgh is a bull, and all bulls can be trained, but the tamer is far from being in bed with them.\" Vik giggled again, \"You are very binary, Bradai. You run a country like a business so you can measure your wealth with numbers and papers. Because of this, you apply it to other men as well.\"\n\nVik briefly pinched the air in front of him as if he was admiring an invisible insect, and he began to mime writing out something. When he spoke again, his voice was lacking a small percentage of his usual cheer.\n\n\"But I am not a man, I'm not even an idea. I ***Am***. Do not mistake my preference of peace for hesitation, Wise One, and when weeds threaten my garden, I am the first to pick up a blade. How many would they have to kill? Hundreds of Thousands, Millions, Marin itself. How many do I have to kill? Less than a thousand. Belief and structure are not my enemies, neither is the Sun, my enemies are those that would take advantage of the weak and downtrodden. I will kill any who use faith as an excuse for slavery. Put any fancy word you want in your ledgers, the Caste is slavery that they sell you into before you're even born. If you are a Thorn, then I am a Spear. Your existence is a nuisance, my existence is a threat.\" He took a deep breath, and after exhaling slowly, he had returned to his regular tone.\n\n\"I joke,\" Vik quoted Bradai again, and giggled.\n** **\n\n\"I can pretend for a forever, as long as the Vortigerns spend that forever staying out of my affairs. Fuck it, why not have Akno be the first to support the new Lord Regent? If the Grey Hills were to fall, you'd need Akno's supply to last against the North, and the Rumored Conspiracy.\"\n\nThe Pirate King was not impressed. He looked annoyed. \n\n\"You do not know what 'appened wiff Feyshore,\" The city was a decades old smoking ruin, but the wound was fresh. He moved to say something again, but the words were caught in his throat. For in instant, every muscle tightened and his fists formed into tight balls, as hard as metal. \"You don't.\" The Pirate King scowled and brought the goblet to his lips, only to see that it was empty. A small brown puddle swirled at the bottom of the glass. \n\n\"Hmph,\" Was all he had to say then. He was thinking of Ilona. \n\n\"Change, _real change_, takes time,\" He had told his daughter that, in this very room, and he found himself repeating it now. \"A ruler is never as beloved as vhey fink vhey are. You'll be taking jobs, lands, lives. You're a fhreat. You're a fhreat to Akno and Akno only, unless you want to carve out a larger piece off tha world for yourself before Araedia crosses over the ridge and crushes you.\" He placed his hands across his chest and leaned back into his chair, \"Hmph\"Ing again. His head began to shake, almost involuntarily. He disapproved of the whole affair.\n\n\"Align yourself wiff that true heir and tha Lord Regent. Talk to 'im, not to me. My whims and wishes are not a good basis on which I expect the Terresi to live. Do you understand my meaning? Vhey do not like me, and never will. But vhey will come to love 'im, should 'e do what the realm needs. Provide your men, make vhem useful, and you will be rewarded 'andsomely. But you will not defeat Terresol, not forever. And you will never beat tha Panfeon, not so long as you live. Even if you beat vhem out of Akno, you will never be safe,\"\n** **\n\nThe Pirate King shook his head, \"No. I 'ave made my bets and cast my lot. It is order vhat I want, not bloody change. I do not even wish to invite tha whraff uff than Panfeon upon you. Vhey'll destroy Akno and rip out your supporters root and stem, although I'm sure in time you'll anger vhem just the same. No,\" He repeated, \"Join the rightful Queen or die in your swamps, but Akno will suffer terribly if you fail. Fight wiff 'im in tha Grey 'ills. Cyprien de Lysse will need every 'and. No one can say vhey care about tha realm if vhey do not fight the coming battle.\"\n\nHe cleared his throat, \"I restate my offer. Join the rightful cause. Once it is all stable and orderly, you will get your just rewards. You can not trust me, but you can trust my promises.\" \n\nNow it was Vik's turn to not be impressed, however he was far from disappointed. Truly he had gained an impressive amount of knowledge from the greatest Spymaster in Marin. He now knew that de Burgh was moving, and that Bradai, or Caderyn rather, planned to stop them at the Sun Gate. It made sense on paper, but Vik and Derringer weren't exactly faithful the walls of Pemberlum could hold. No, this coming fight was not going to be decided at one siege. Air escaped his mask as if he was about to say something, but he thought against it. He had already struck a nerve against the Pirate King, and if he spent the next hour explaining why he wasn't exactly right, at best it would only anger Bradai, and at worst he'd make another enemy. Instead Vik giggled again.\n\n\"Thank you for the information, Bradai,\" His message had a hidden meaning of course, \"Please, enjoy the telescope, and I hope your Admiral appreciates the new coat I had made for her conquest. However I feel that now I owe you something else.\"\n\nHe pulled out a marble, but decided against handing it to someone with a court wizard like Silas.\n** **\n\n\"Water through the grapevines say that Serafina has found the lost bastard Cleos, or at least someone she tricked into thinking he's Cleos. Rumor has it she was spotted in a carriage with a boy of his description heading towards Sol.\" Vik hopped off the chair he'd taken, and relit the candles in the room with a snap as he waddled towards the door to the study. As he gripped the ajar portal, he stopped and thought for another second.\n\n\"'A ruler is never as beloved as they think they are,'\" He giggled, \"I do hope you warned your 'friend' with that message.\"\n\nWith that, Vik opened the door to the hall, surprising the two guards posted there. One drew a Dirk, and the other stepped back and lowered their crossbow at him. Frankly, Vik was growing tired of being threatened.\n\n\"Put that down, you look like a jester.\" Turning to the other one he continued, \"Your King's cup is empty.\"\n\nThe two looked into the study for their King's command.\n\nThe Pirate King did finally look amused. He crossed his hands over his chest and leaned back in his chair. \"Tell the little bastard vhat I enjoyed our talk and let 'em go,'' The two guards loosened up, and the one put his dirk back into its sheath, but just as they had fully relaxed, the Pirate King continued, snapping them back to attention, \"And tell 'im vhat if 'e's not in the Grey 'ills, 'e'll be the only man vhat didn't go. 'im and vhis _Cleos._ Vhey will remember 'oo was there.\"\n\nVik giggled.\n\n\"We'll see each other again, Bradai.\" He said as he turned away from the study, and skipped into the hall.\n\nWith that, the doors closed behind him, and the sliver of golden light grew smaller and smaller, and eventually reduced itself to nothing. The room was dark again, everything muddled blue and gray.\n** **\n\nFrom behind one of the cushioned recliners across the room, the Pirate King heard something move. From somewhere deep in the bowels of the mansion, in the tunnels that ran under them all, something creaked. _Ilona,_ he thought. He was holding his breath. \n\n\"Hmph,\" He cleared his throat. \"Whatever ghosts and...\" The Pirate King rose from his chair and placed a hand on his lower back to crack it, he groaned, \"_ghoulies_ 'ave come to visit me tonight, I am reading.\" \n\nIn return there was nothing but silence. Nothing but the sound of the waves. _Or the blood rushing through his ears,_ \n\nThe Pirate King set down his book on the corner of his desk and left the room. For the first time in a while, he did not want to be left alone."
},
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - the Stilts\n\nOfcourse she was hesitant to tell him her thoughts. Every person with the slightest bit of intelligence knew you had to be very careful when sharing opinions about house Maith and the fact that he, together with others or not, had already worked for Bradai only made her doubt her words more. 'Trust me' wasn't exactly enough to convince her otherwise.\n\"Innocent people? In the court of Bradai?\" The loud exhale through her nose made clear that she didn't consider that very possible. There might have been some nobles from outside the Isles that hadn't done anything wrong here, but you could hardly call them good.\nWhether or not he agreed, her attention immediately shifted to the other talk.\n\n\"You're from the Witherlands?!\" Gone was the Islander accent with which she had learned to speak the common tongue, and for the first time in a long period she spoke Northtongue in something that wasn't prayers. \"It's been ages since I spoke to someone from back there- I'm from Reapers Skull!\"\nAmeia couldn't care less that their homes were about as far apart as you could get within the land. \n\nBut Fabian kept switching up his words, according to her. He couldn't be too bad of a guy, he had taken her blaming him a bit too well for that, and she was inclined to trust him even more now that she finally had the chance to speak to a Northmen, but him mentioning Clan Drase was like a slap in the face.\n\"You'd better be careful with who you tell that around here.\" Her voice had gone flat again, knowing this was the point she was supposed to swiftly cut off from this man. Yet she didn't. \"If you don't care about someone like me disapproving, you will when you join them.\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nTonote Proper - The Stilts \n\nHe frowned as she seemed to teeter between trusting and untrusting. He hadn't been in the southern isles for long, perhaps a week or two. He noted the distrust of the court- which he assumed was common for most people in the lower castes.. Even himself.\n\n\"I- well I suppose. But it was more a knee-jerk reaction that I actively chose. And oh, reapers skull... I haven't been there in quite a while..\" He paused for a moment, still poking forward.* \"I thought you were from the aisle..\" He said with a raised eyebrow, obviously a little off Keter at the blatant lie, he couldn't blame her, but it still was- odd for her just to switch like that. He slowly stopped though when the topic of clan Drase popped up.\n\n\"I have been on this isle for less than a month, I didn't know someone like you would disapprove of them.\" He seemed unbothered by her subtle threat, although she might notice him frown a bit deeper after it. \"I need work, without it my reasoning for coming here was pointless. But I have- no knowledge of the isles, so I suppose that may be important when choosing an employer.\""
},
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - the Stilts\n\n\"I never said I was from here- I said I lived here, this is my home\" She corrected him, lying came easy to her, but she had no intent on lying to Fabian yet and was very keen on the words she picked, \"I haven't seen the place since I was a child. But I can't imagine it's changed much from the blurry memories I still have.\" \nAs he slowed down, she did as well, turning to face him. Most of the tensed up behaviour she had earlier had disappeared, they were closing in on her house and she considered these streets as safe for her as she could be in the Stilts. \n\nShe kept her mouth shut for once, seeming to ponder something as she once again took a good look at the man. Ameia liked the fact that she could sketch at least some kind of idea based on people's appearance, but the things Fabian had said and how he looked didn't really add up. She didn't know his status, and it could be that what he was wearing was just new, but he seemed unfit for where they were. His armour was just a bit too sturdy, his sword almost a showoff, the cloak couldn't have been cheap either. The only thing that fit was the blood that had started drying up on his chin and his messy hair.\n\n\"Someone like me?\" She crossed her arms. Without the slight grin that seemed stuck on her face she'd almost look mad, but it was more a taunt than anything else, \"Everyone needs work, but the Isles aren't like the mainland. 'Royal' houses didn't exist until half a lifetime ago. The Privateers and the others that serve the Maiths like to think they're pirates- what kind of pirate takes orders from someone that thinks they have a right to rule everyone?\"\nThe last part came out almost like a sneer, but it was the result of the passion with which the words were spoken. It was almost as if she had been there when it happened. Whether it was true or not depended on what you believed, but for Ameia these thoughts meant everything. Her family had made sure of that."
},
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "Mykolas-Reed Lanterns\nThe Isle of Lanterns, dock by the Lighthouse Keep\n\nMykolas stayed near the center of the dock as they walked, keeping far away from the edge. He didn't really trust the thin waterlogged boards to hold them, and the rippling darkness under his feet made him feel queasy. He didn't object, though. *He* Was the one who asked to be here. Tokiel, his personal guard, lead him to the end where a man with a fat gut and a brown beard chewed on a cigar. He peeked their way and immediately shouted, \n\"TOKIEL! Why you old mutt, am I glad t'see you still alive!\"\nThe two embraced while Mykolas awkwardly stood at Tokiel's side. As they began to chatter, Mykolas studied the boat currently docked. He'd never actually seen a boat up close before, only pictures and blueprints. It was a small caravel, he knew, hewn from dark teak. The boat rocked back and forth in the water in the same way a bored donkey swayed on its feet. He was afraid of what might happen if the ship bumped the dock. Would it throw them off? Break the rotted wood and plunge them into the water? \n\"An' who's this jumpy lil falla?\" The dockhand said. \"He yers?\" He reached over to ruffle Mykolas's hair but Tokiel stopped him. \n\"No,\" He said firmly. \"This is Mykolas-Reed.\" The man just stared at him, so Tokiel added: \"Your lord.\" \nThe dockhand did a double take at Mykolas. \"Well, I- I beg yer pardon, my... My lord,\" He stuttered, more in surprise than reverence. He looked back to Tokiel and whispered, as though Mykolas wouldn't hear, \"Fer true? I didn' think the Lanterns boy was real.\"\n\n*Not real?* Mykolas thought. Was he serious? He knew it was strange for a lord's son to be as secluded as he'd been, but he never thought that people might think he didn't even *Exist.*\n\"We're here to disperse letters,\" Tokiel said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. \"One to each lord. News of Mykolas-Argil's death.\"\n\"Yea... Yea, fuckin' awful news, that is,\" The dockhand said, accepting the bundle of papers. \"Bu' don't you worry. I'll give these t'the next crews out.\" \n\"You have our thanks,\" Tokiel said. He glanced at Mykolas, who could feel his nausea mounting. \"That's all for the time being.\"\n\"Right,\" Said the dockhand. \"You all, you eh, be safe now.\" His eyes lingered on the boy. \n\"You also,\" Mykolas said with a curt nod. He and Tokiel turned away, and Mykolas was relieved when they finally reached solid ground again. \n\"You did well,\" Tokiel said, but Mykolas didn't think so. \n\"He called me jumpy.\"\n\"You *Were* Jumpy,\" Tokiel admonished. \"What were you so afraid of?\"\n\"The dock,\" Mykolas said. \"It was badly made.\"\n\"Badly made.\" Tokiel shook his head as he gathered his patience. \"Mykolas, it's a dock. They're all like that. You must get used to it.\" \n\"Wha' if I fall in?\"\n\"I'll pull you back out.\" \n\"Wha' if I drown first?\"\n\"You won't,\" Tokiel said. \"It takes a while to drown.\" When Mykolas didn't seem convinced, Tokiel added: \"But we should teach you how to swim. I can't think of a lord who can't swim.\" \n*I'm standing in front of you,* Mykolas thought.\n\nThe letters, now on various journeys to the major lords and ladies of the islands, were all in the clumsy writ of a child and all read the same: \n```My lord father Mykolas-Argil Lanterns is dead. He was murdered by skags. As his son, I have taken his place as lord. The Isle of Lanterns is now under my protection. \nWith respects,\nMykolas-Reed Lanterns, Lord of the Isle of Lanterns```"
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nThe Irons, Tonate Proper \n\nAfter a few hours, they'd found that the girl had no licensure to practice her business. Admittedly, there were no licensed 'rat-catchers' in the city. \n\n\"We'll give you your papers, but you'll be providing your services to the Guard free of charge, a little thank you to me for not skinning you alive.\" Valkrin's eye never left the piece of paper he stared at, but never seemed to move over it. It was getting late, and there were a multitude of things he'd rather be doing, none of which contained his actual job."
}
] | 422 | 10,092 |
302.5 | 2022-01-16 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "Mykolas-Reed Lanterns\nThe Isle of Lanterns - the Lighthouse Keep\n\nMykolas laid awake late into the night. It was strange to be sleeping in his parents' bed, and as he listened to the distant noise of the sea from outside, his mind raced. Of all the things that would have had cause to keep him awake - the strangeness of his new quarters, his father's death, his mother's madness - the thing which kept him up now was the image of the caravel from the dock. For years he'd studied ships on paper and seen them sailing through the bay from the safety of his window. But to be near one, close enough to touch it, was another matter entirely. In his mind he recreated its image and the sensation he had. It was awe and fear and curiosity, all tangled together in his gut at once. \n*I want to board it,* He thought to himself, and in his imagination, he did. His footsteps echoed on the deck, a splinter prodded at his hand as he ran it along the railing, the wind parted his hair and blew salt in his face. In his imagination, he stood bravely at the bow. There wasn't a drop of uncertainty in the whole of his being. The sails dropped and suddenly they lurched forward towards the broad horizon. The Isle of Lanterns became a white speck behind him, but strangely, he couldn't will his mind to stop picturing it. It remained ever on the horizon, always in reach."
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nTonate Proper, The Stilts.\n\nFabian felt his like curl into a slight smirk, shaking his head and rubbing his face- which had just started to regain its light stubble, a darker colour oddly despite his white hair. He shrugged, starting to walk again, pulling his cloak closer to his body. \"I suppose I should have listened closer... I haven't been home in a few years- for obvious reasons..\" He was still very tense, but she might tell it was simply due to habit than actual fear, his paces were slow though as if he were hesitant to walk at all.\n\nHe was also was examining her, this thief was an enigma to him. One moment stealing, and blaming theft on him, the next sacrificing half her prize to rescue him. Being warm and funny, to serious and grim. He cocked one dark eyebrow, that smirk still on his lips.\n\n\"Then why haven't you left me standing on my lonesome Ameia? It can't be my natural charm, as I am bloodied and frankly caught unprepared.\" He lightly joked, although catching that glint of seriousness in her eye, looking down the road, keeping the ice blue iris's from meeting her's. \"Perhaps, but I don't see pirates fighting in the streets. At the very least they all seem to agree to not openly play their- \"High-born\" Games.\""
},
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Ameia Morrow\nTonate Proper - the Stilts\n\n\"For obvious reasons? You got cold feet?\" She joked, working either literally or figuratively. It wasn't unthinkable for people to leave the land due to the horrible weather- Ameia sometimes missed the snow, but never more than she craved the sun-, but it wouldn't surprise her either if he had left after some kind of accident. Maybe she was wrong, maybe it was just work.\n\n\"You're giving me ideas. Don't flatter yourself too much, I just don't come across Witherlanders often.\" \nFabian had said exactly what was going on in the back of her mind, she should have left him standing on his lonesome, if not at the tavern then when he mentioned Bradai. If someone saw her walking with him and a week later he turned out to be part of clan Drase she'd be dead. \n\n\n\"There's a reason you don't see many people in the street that dare to cross Maith. Ever since he got to power he's been exterminating every real pirate that's left.\" She left a moment of silence linger as she thought about what would be the best way to handle this, \"If you do decide to join them, it would be better that you forgot we met.\"\nShe stopped, they were getting close to the house, she wasn't going to take him there.\n\"We're almost there.\""
},
{
"author": "destinywraith114",
"message": "**| Fabian Ambrose |**\n\nTonate Proper - The Stilts\n\nHe chuckled and gave her a glance, lips still in that confident smirk, his hands smoothing out his cloak. \"Frostbite is a hell of a thing.\" He replied, his eyes fixated on her face. He wondered what she was thinking about, he understood her hesitance, but even from the brief interaction he had come to like this thief, she was an interesting person.\n\n \"Maybe... But I would like to avoid that... I doubt I can just forget someone who made that sort of entrance.\" He looked to her and smiled at her, still not realizing the blood dribbling down his chin was still there- the locks of white hair falling in front of his face, which prompted him to push them out of the way. \"I don't know if I will...\" He took a sharp breath as he kept icy-blue eyes now focused on hers, a sort of intense stare enhanced by that colour, he put out a hand for a shake, he would try to kiss her hand, but he had a feeling Ameia would find that quite amusing- or even insulting. \"I must admit- I would find it quite unacceptable if we forgot each other existed, I'm sure we could figure something out to have another talk sometime.\" \n\nFabian was deathly serious, not only had Ameia possibly saved his life, she was from his homeland, and that was important to him. Even if he didn't seem to openly show it."
}
] | 303 | 1,210 |
142.5 | 2022-02-06 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\nValkrin patted the sides of his overcoat, and produced a flask from his left pocket. \"Afraid it's rum, not wine.\" He'd never been fond of wines, most were too sweet. \n\n\"However there should be a man at the docks today, old friend of mine from my days in Terresol, should have what you're looking for. I'll send a lad for it.\" He pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them to a boy, sending him off to fetch the wine. \n\n\"Was thinking of spending some time in the courtyard, if you'd care to join me.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\nShe accepted the flask with a bright smile, happily taking a sip of rum. She had grown quite fond of wine, perhaps in part because she now had access to the more luxurious varieties, but she wasn't too terribly picky about her alcohol. Her evenings, in particular, were usually spent in a slight buzz of some alcohol. \n\nLicking the last drops of rum from her lips, she replied, \"I'd like that. Both of those things.\" Their words flew back and forth in their native tongue, both finding a bit of comfort in the steady cadence of their homeland."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\nThe courtyard of the estate was not large by any means, made less so by the few rows of perfectly manicured hedges and scarlet hibiscus trees that were kept in secret by Valkrin himself when he had the time. There were a few servants in the estate that were missing fingers as a result of picking a flower for themselves when they believed the Ambereye wouldn't notice. \n\n\"You're happier today than you usually are in my presence, has something happened?\" Valkrin said as he sat in a large armchair, resting his head on the back and letting the sun and the salt air wake his old bones."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\n\"I suppose I *Should* Be bullying you more,\" She agreed, \"But today has just been... Better. Better than I've felt in a long time.\" She turned her back to him, looking up at the hibiscus trees and breathing in their sweet scent. \n\n\"I feel more stable... Less afraid. If the curse was going to come, as it comes for everyone around me, it should have by now. I've even started thinking about sending for Mireli... Though perhaps that's just a pipe dream.\"\n\nShe turned to face him again. \"I think part of it is just the island sun thawing me out.\""
}
] | 145 | 570 |
138.5 | 2022-02-07 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\n\"Curses only come to those who believe they will, and your daughter is welcome here. I can send for a man to collect her, or you can arrange it yourself, there's not a man in Terresol who'd turn down Farensun gold.\" This was mostly true, the only ones who'd say no worked for the crown, and they had enough trouble to deal with without worrying about the Kingslayer's wrath. \n\n\"The island sun thaws us all eventually. Either way, I enjoy this side of you, much better than you calling me evil at every chance.\" He smirked, pulling a cigar out of the case in his pocket and striking a match on his boot. The aroma of Terreme tobacco filling the air with every puff. \n\n\"I haven't seen Mireli in years, just a lass the last time. I do hope the Crown hasn't told her too many stories.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\n\"Stories, no. Histories and accounts, yes,\" She replied, a slight edge to her voice. No doubt Mireli had heard of who killed Vronti. She doubted that would go over well if she brought Mireli here. And, of course, he had insulted her belief in curses. If he had lost as much as she had and had seen the work of the seers in the caravans, he would most certainly believe that curses could befall anyone, belief or no belief."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\nValkrin waived his hand, \"Either way, there's only two people who know the real history, and one's dead.\" After a few more puffs he sat upright, placing his elbows on his knees and admiring the hibiscus trees in front of him. \n\n\"And to think I almost became a florist.\" He muttered, watching a gull land on the ground. \"What do you think of the garden, Ms. Tanner? No one will ever believe you, but I did all this myself.\" Valkrin smiled, gesturing to the hedges and flowers."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\nShe looked at the hibiscus tree in front of her and reached out, cupping the delicate petals of a flower in her hand for a moment. \n\n\"I suppose every thorn has its rose,\" She replied. Pausing briefly, she finally turned and sat in a nearby chair, shaded by the trees around them. \"It is lovely,\" She continued, \"One of my favorite places, really.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\n\"I made it as a place for solitude, where I don't have to be Valkrin Farensun, and for short whiles I can be Valkrin Draghi again. Years ago I'd have laughed at the idea, but with each season I find myself out here more and more.\" He sighed as he removed his overcoat, the shade protecting him well enough from the harsh sun. \n\n\"Are you hungry? I can have something brought out, almost anything really.\" Valkrin's flask was almost empty, and he called for a servant to come and refill it. The rum was beginning to take hold, and for the first time in a while he actually felt good."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\n\"I am,\" She replied. After going so long without food in the Witherlands and standing on the precipice of starvation, she wasn't one to turn down food when offered. Especially not when it was good, fine food to indulge in!\n\nShe watched as Valkrin summoned yet another servant, who quickly scurried off to get a meal for them. The other servant filled Valkrin's flask; Cat waited until he had finished to finally ask, \"How did you become a Farensun, anyway?\""
}
] | 129 | 831 |
162.142857 | 2022-02-08 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\n\"Years ago, before there was a Pirate King, there was a man named Faren Sunn.\" Valkrin began, staring off into the distance, \"Faren was the greatest of us, could outrun any ship, run any blockade. He found me after my Susanna was murdered, standing in a cellar, a pool of other men's blood at my feet. Offered to help find those responsible, so long as I'd stay on with his crew and help 'persuade' others to give up their goods.\" \n\nValkrin stood, and looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath. \"Those bastards burned my wife and child alive, all because I told their father I wouldn't murder his rival. So I hung their corpses from my bowsprit til their bones rotted away. Ol' Faren died before that, and I took his name as mine, so his legend won't die until mine does.\" \n\nHe sat back down and turned to face her, \"That's how I became a Farensun, Ms. Tanner.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\nShe gazed at him in silence for a few moments, not quite sure what to say. Pity? He likely wouldn't want that. Hell, she seldom told the story of Alofen's death to avoid the pitiful looks and the hollow, \"I'm sorry to hear that\"S. No, not pity. Understanding though, perhaps. Empathy. He had lost a wife and child; she had lost a husband and an unborn baby. Both to senseless killing, though his was certainly more personal than hers. \n\nAnd here she had thought he was free of curses. That he had never known the loss she had. \n\nThere was a flicker of something in her dark eyes as she finally cleared her throat and murmured, \"That is quite the story...\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\n\"Nothing like the stories they tell of me in the bars and docks, eh? That I just murder and take what I want because I enjoy it.\" His attention snapped to the young woman carrying in a tray of small cuts of meats and cheeses, along with small loaves of bread. \n\nValkrin placed his cigar in an ashtray beside the chair, and began to eat one of the loaves. Maith had sent a baker to him recently, and he'd never quite get used to food this good."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFareunsun Estate, Redwall District\n\nHer mind flickered back to that day in the brothel, when he had handed her the knife and told her to kill the owner. She had been so close to it, yet she chose not to. Two people, both faced with a great loss, yet she put down the blade and he picked it up. She still remembered how, when he had joined her outside, there were still spatters of blood on his clothes. Not much—he had tried to clean up some—but she still saw. \n\nShe was grateful for the distraction of the arriving food, quickly digging in and enjoying the decadent meats and cheeses. It gave her more time to think about her response. \n\n\"I suppose, if you're going for legendary, you want them to tell those stories,\" She finally said, then took another bite of cheese."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District\n\n\"They can tell whatever stories they damn well please, but the ones now keep most folk from bothering me,\" He said as he swallowed, \"And that's fine in my eyes.\" \n\nThe boy that Valkrin had sent to the docks returned with two bottles in hand, and gave them both to the Ambereye. \"Said the rest will come tonight after dark, sir.\" The young boy backed away and ran off to get back to his other tasks. Valkrin popped the cork on one of the bottles and filled a glass for Catarina. \n\n\"Those stories are also how I get a whole crate of Terreme wine, when I only paid for one bottle.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFareunsun Estate, Redwall District\n\nShe took the glass and raised it in a toast, a slight smile on her lips. \"Can't say that's a bad thing,\" She replied. It wasn't theft if it was given to him, after all. Even if it was given primarily out of fear... \n\nShe took a sip from her glass and watched him for a few moments before asking, \"So what's the plan? I can't imagine you can keep doing this forever, and you just said yourself you don't murder and take what you want because you enjoy it.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Redwall District \n\nValkrin reclined into his chair and re-lit his cigar. \"Honestly, I'd like to return to Falsa. The Dumagnes favor me, after avenging their father, and I'm sure the Vortigerns can be persuaded to pardon me. It's been forty years since I stood in the valley I was born in, and that's where I'd like my story to end. Not at the end of some kid's blade as he tried to make a name for himself.\"\n\nAfter a bit of silence, he sat back up, \"There's still many years until that happens though.\""
}
] | 154 | 1,135 |
373 | 2022-02-13 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nSome Alleyway, Tonate Proper, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake gauged Cecilia's distance from him, noticing that she was clearly apprehensive regarding something about him, but was much too stoic or intelligent to actually say why. The privateer's placement of his hand upon the pommel of one of his weapons was pretty much instinctive, as if it were an unconscious reflex conditioned into him by his environment. Her tone of voice, though, was just as nonchalant as he was, although his mention of having heard her seemed to draw a brief reaction of impressed surprise. Galt-Drake paid no further mind to that, though, and listened to Cecilia as she spoke, keeping his focus mostly on the woman's own movements and preparing for the possibility of her trying to pull a fast one on him. As Cecilia spoke, Galt-Drake found himself stifling a chuckle, since he found her response to be quite the amusing one. Upon hearing a followup question from the Shifter about his victim, Galt-Drake took one last look at the brutalized corpse before shifting his gaze back to Cecilia.\n\nGalt-Drake then bluntly answered, \"He was probably one of the biggest open dissenters against King Bradaí. I couldn't convince him to just shut the hell up about it all and sign up for the navy somewhere, so I did the next best thing: Shut him up for good, by force. It's alright, though. Nobody will miss this bitter old cunt. He was a Scag, and we all know Scags are just a buncha brain-dead, shite-flingin' monkeys not worth a damn. That answer yer question, ma'am?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyannah \nTonate Proper\n\nShe was sure glad she hadn't crossed his path during the time when she was constantly trying to assassinate King Bradai. He was now another name added to her imaginary list of people to avoid when she felt the need to go on another murder spree. Perhaps she should keep those to the mainland, seeing how it was much easier to get away with murder compared to the isles. Her eyes crinkled as she held back a grin towards his reasoning for the brutal killing, and instead raised her brow. \n\n\"Remind me to not get on your bad side.\" Her eyes slowly gazed over the man, doing her best to figure out whether or not she was endangering herself by remaining near him. From her observation however, it seemed unlikely unless she was to attack first. His muscles hadn't flexed since resting his hand against the handle of his sword and unlike her, he wasn't eyeing her like a potential target. As a way to show she wasn't planning to attack, Cecilia kept her arms folded across her chest and dropped her shoulders, placing her into a relaxed stance. \n\n\"So what do you do with the body? Do you leave it there for someone to find or do you take it back to Bradai?\" It was genuine question built from Cecilia's curiosity. Usually when she was finished with a body, she would eat it. Something she doubt this man would do."
},
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nSome Alleyway, Tonate Proper, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake continued to visually scan Cecilia as she stood and spoke, keeping both eyes trained on her movements. Once his explanation was done with, and Cecilia reacted, Galt-Drake found himself scoffing lightly at her initial quip. As Cecilia did some looking of her own, she'd rather easily find that Galt-Drake had no intention of murdering her. Not yet, at least. Cecilia would have to give him a reason for him to take the time to try killing her, and she has yet to give him any. As such, Cecilia's choice of staying relatively near Galt-Drake and even relaxing her stance as a sign of non-aggression was actually a rather sound one. Galt-Drake kept his hand on the pommel of the same weapon, but he seemed even more calm in turn, now even more clearly not eyeing Cecilia as a possible kill. Again, though, not yet. A particularly scary aspect of Galt-Drake is his ability to accelerate from zero to one-hundred immediately. One moment, the young privateer prodigy could be as calm as possible, and then hack someone's head off in the very next. Cecilia's next question, though, actually seemed to be a thought-provoking one, if only for a moment.\n\nAll the same, Galt-Drake answered, \"That's a good question, actually. I've got a couple options, but me usual procedure is to just let the mangled torso rot in the alleyway. I'll present the limbs and whatnot to Bradaí later, as proof of me actually killing him. Why do ye ask? Are ye one of those freaks who likes a bit o' the long-pig on the side? Ye don't look like an Isles tribal. Too soft-lookin', despite the scars, mainlander. Either way, I don't judge. If ye wanna take more time smellin' the bloody thing, then I won't stop ye. I've got limbs to show to the King. Do with the scraps what ye will.\""
}
] | 369 | 1,119 |
306.666667 | 2022-02-21 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper\n\nIt had been a delightfully slow day at the Maith Mansion. He had woken up alone in the tower of the Seneschal, had his morning swim in the royal harbor, enjoyed a modest breakfast of crispy bacon and eggy rice with blackened peppers, and had conducted and adjourned an early council meeting. Everything, at least for the moment, was relatively peaceful. The festival was long over and his sister had gone with the majority of the war fleet north, taking the Vortigerns and many of his more troublesome scag sympathizers with her. Even his court, which was open for the first time since the Skaggerly trial, was bereft of it's usual problems. The wives, save for one, would not be in attendance. The Guild of Stonemasons and the Guild of Wharfmasters were placated. No bards or jesters were slotted to \"Entertain\" Him. Perhaps that was why he brought the common girl in first. \n\nThe Pirate King watched as they brought her in. She was not slotted to be brought before the court at all. Valkrin Farensun, his captain of the city watch, had found her capturing rats in a tavern and selling them to his own men for... Whatever reason. He did not know and he did not _want_ to know. Valkrin kept a tight ship, of that he was certain, but some of his men were less scrupulous than others. But she was doing as much in an area where vendors were not permitted, and other reports had said she was cutting them open and serving them roasted. After careful consideration, Bradai concluded that he would rather give out fields of free rice to the poor before he allowed the roasted rat to be the food of Tonate Proper. \n\nWhen his wife, Lella-Long Lanterns, was comfortably reclined beside him and his desk had been properly positioned before his throne, the common girl was brought in. After she was announced and his ledgers were set before him to record the interaction, the Pirate King placed his spectacles upon his crooked nose and asked:\n\n\"Do you fink it's funny, vhat your name is Mouse and you catch rats?\""
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Mouse\nThe Court of Skulls\n\n\"M'name's no 'mouse',\" Mouse said with a furrowed brow,\"Like yer name's no 'yer majesty' but yer still called it, er... Yer majesty.\"\n\nHer eyes flickered from the king to his wife in attendance and then back to the king. She pushed down a smile at how funny the king always looked beside his wives, a pigeon amongst peacocks.\n\n\"N' I do *Not* Sell tainteded meat, I dunno vhere 'e got vhat from.\" She said, jutting a thumb accusatorially at the crier as the manacles on her wrists jangled. She hoped he wouldn't notice the missing premolars in her smile."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nSome Alleyway, Tonate Proper, Southern Isles\n\nHer clawed finger began to change as the sharpened bone withdrew into her nail bed, shifting back to its original shape associated with her current form. The shifter brought her wrist to her lips and snaked out her tongue to run across her healed flesh, as if to clean the blood from her skin before it had a chance to dry. Listening to him question further on her healing abilities, her smirk returned with a shrug of her shoulders. \n\n\"Just slightly.\" She wasn't about to give away all her tricks, especially with the way he was looking towards her in a calculating manner. She simply wanted to prove to him that she was far different compared to a human. \"So yeah, never compare me to a human again or else our conversations will not be as pleasant as this one.\" \n\nShe knew it was unwise to threaten the man before her, however the shifter was never one to think of consequences of her actions. And with that, Cecilia began creeping backwards from Galt-Drake with small strides, not trusting to turn her back towards him as she went to leave his presence for the time being. \n\n\"I'll be seeing you shortly.\" With both her lips tugging outwards into a cheshire grin, the shifter waved her hand quickly in front of her face once she had acquired a safe distance and pivoted in her step to sprint away."
}
] | 297 | 920 |
316.666667 | 2022-02-25 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Iver\n\nA brothel in the Southern Isles\n\n\nIver pulled on his shirt, his nimble fingers sliding the buttons into place. He rolled his head back and forth, sighing as the pop of his vertebrae echoed in his temples. Groaning, he paused and closed his amber eyes, the air hissing past his teeth.\n\n\nDelicate fingers reached up to rub the base of his head and neck, a sigh escaping the woman behind him.\n\n\n\"You don't 'ave to go, you know...\" The voice whispered in his ear.\n\n\n\"I do.\" He responded shortly, finishing the buttons on his shirt and standing up. \"...Sorry.\" He managed to mumble as he walked over to his boots that were haphazardly near the tainted window. \n\n\n\"...I don't get you anymore, Iver...\" The woman whined, laying back down on the bed and pulling the sheet over her nudity. Harumphing, she watched him with a pout. \"When we were younger, you'd be wild, untamed, we 'ad *Fun*... And now you...\" She sighed. \"Well, I guess you don't look like you've aged... But the way that you—\"\n\n\n\"I've aged.\" He cut her off, his eyes focusing on her as he turned around. \"Just not the same way you all do.\"\n\n\nThe woman grumbled, sitting up and holding the sheet to her ample bosom. \"*You all*... What do you mean by that?\" She scooted to the edge of the bed and reached upward, her hand resting on his cheek. \"Sometimes I think... You *Did* Die those years ago, and I've been fucking a ghost once a year or so.\"\n\n\n-\n\nIver rolled his eyes, reaching up to pull the hand from his face. He held her hand gently but firmly, looking at her. \"I was not the same man. No. I'm not. I died, I did, in a way..\" He answered mysteriously. \"But I don't think you should be questioning something you would never understand.\" He nodded, letting go and finishing his clothing before heading toward the chamber door. \"So long, Violet.\" He whispered lowly, before ducking his head and leaving the brothel.\n\n\nHe marched slowly and methodically, since walking on land wasn't always the easiest for him anymore. He could play it off as sea-legs getting the best of him if someone asked, but they had *No* Idea how true that statement was. He made his way through the streets, making it to the visage of the coastline only about 60 yards away. It was like a tether, from his chest to the sea, pulling him back into its embrace. He was a part of it, and it was a part of him. His guide and guardian, and he, its rebellious child. \n\n\nA subtle nod toward the ocean distracted him and he stumbled, stopping where he was to catch himself and reorient his legs on solid ground."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \n\nShe remained amused from her previous encounter with one of Bradai's men, learning that she would need to find out more information on Galt-Drake before he undoubtedly became a threat towards her. It wasn't that she feared him, if anything she had grown intrigued towards his carelessness regarding her nature and behavior. Then again, she always had the tendency to be drawn to things that could do her a lot of harm. \n\nCecilia had decided to remain above ground, away from the tunnels as she left the seedier parts of Tonate Proper and moved along wandering aimlessly through the isles. She allowed her feet to lead the way, having nothing planned on her mind besides avoiding anyone who looked remotely similar to a mainlander and those she already knew. The shifter simply wanted to enjoy the little time she received in the fresh air with the intoxicating smell of the ocean breeze the further she grew to the coast line. It was far more superior to the smell of copper from the dried blood that would coat the surfaces of the dungeons she had grown accustomed to living in and the decaying scent of rotting corpses as they marinated the dirt covered floors before someone finally decided to dump them into an unmarked grave. \n\nA movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention as she brought herself out from her dissociated mind and noticed a man struggling to walk. Deciding she had nothing better to do, Cecilia began making her way towards him. Each step that drew her closer, the shifter was able to recognise he seemed drawn towards something in the direction of the ocean. Perking her curiosity, she continued to bring herself closer towards him. \n\n\"Are you ok?\" She didn't exactly care about his wellbeing but knew it was the easiest way to start a conversation without being to fuck off."
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Iver\n\nThe coast of the Tonate Proper, Southern Isles\n\n\nAs Iver tried to reorient his feet, he was approached with... Concern. A woman's voice, not one he had heard before, approached him from his left. He turned his head but not his body, remaining still and his feet directed toward the ocean.\n\n\nAs he set his gaze upon her, it would be noticed that in his face, there set an odd pair of eyes. They weren't like others, the pupils thin lines, and the iris a bright shade of yellow. They were akin to a cat's eyes, or perhaps a shark's. \"Aye,\" His rough voice replied. \"Just sea-legs getting the best of me.\" He had the isles accent, but it was certainly more refined and articulate than most who lived here, giving him a strange sense of nobility, although he dressed quite common.\n\n\nHe didn't seem a social type, and being approached out of the blue was not a part of the plan he had for the day, but Iver told himself that there was no harm in conversing with a new person, perhaps the ocean had a plan for this. He took a deep breath, feeling the salt cling to his lips. \"Been with the sea for months at a time, it can make you forget how to be steady when nothing moves or tilts beneath you.\" He gave her a curt smile, although some would say that with his eyes the way they were he seemed more predatory than kind."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe coast of the Tonate Proper, Southern Isles\n\nShe didn't believe the man for a second when he spoke, providing an excuse for the way he struggled as he walked. The woman was pretty well versed in bullshit herself. Infact, it was almost all she ever spoke when she didn't find herself threatening other people. Fortunately for him, she didn't find any interest in pressing further into his lie as her current distraction was towards his unique set of eyes. It was unlike something she had previously seen. Was he human?\n\nAs a brow kept upwards to give the man a look of doubt, the shifter did her best to be discreet with her inhales through her nostrils in an attempt to make sense of his scent. It didn't smell all that human. However, Cecilia chalked it up to the fact that his body had an overwhelming scent of the ocean which would have made sense if he was a sailor that spent months at a time at sea. \n\n\"Why are your eyes weird like that?\" It was blunt, but the shifter was never one for manners, that was obvious. Her left brow raised in curiosity as she waited for his answer whilst her eyes scanned cautiously over him."
},
{
"author": "faeryfire",
"message": "Mouse\nThe Court of Skulls\n\nMouse's eyes widened as the king spoke, every sentence seemed to make them wider until she thought they may pop out of her head.\n\n\"Ye're givin' me a job?\" She asked in a meek little voice. Quietly, she swallowed a bubbling sob and smiled a toothy, brilliant grin before bowing low to her king.\n\n\"Fhank yew, yer 'ighness. But vhould y'no rather someone more... Grand?\" She asked. She wanted this job, hell she was getting her hopes up over it! But a little streetseller had no business being elevated to a royal Ratcatcher."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Court of Skulls\n\nWhen the girl fell to her knee and bowed her head, the Pirate King stood from his throne. \n\n\"Let vhis be a lesson to you all, for you _murmurers_ and _snickerers._ Look.\" The Pirate King looked up at the balcony, where they were all looking back at him anxiously. \n\n\" 'ard work is rewarded in my court. 'oo told vhis girl to catch rats? To save you all tha trouble? No one. Not me. My city 'as produced good men and women, and vhey should be recognized.\" \n\nWhen she spoke up from her place on his floor, to question his decision, his face grew stern.\n\n\"Grander?\" He looked annoyed but from behind his beard, he was smiling. She was Tonati, of that much he was certain. \n\n\"No,\" Was all he said in reply, and sat down. \"Dismissed.\"\n\nThe guards at either side escorted her out of the court."
}
] | 279.5 | 1,900 |
361 | 2022-02-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Iver\n\nThe coast of the Tonate Proper, Southern Isles\n\n\nHe was never approached so off-handedly before, but he didn't seem surprised when she asked him about his eyes. He wondered if she was slow, like the mind of a child, with how curious and open she was, but looking at her showed that perhaps she was simply bold. He blinked slowly, staring at her with his odd eyes.\n\n\n\"I woke up with 'em one day.\" He said. \"It makes me no different though.\" With a nod, he reached into his pocket to pull out a kerchief, in which he dabbed his brow. \"Doctors called it an illness. I can't see well, now. Fortunately, though I can still make out the stars...\" He nodded. \"It must've been from some odd fish I ate 'n all. There are mysteries out in these seas...\" He nodded promptly, looking wistfully out toward the ocean. \"I 'spose I'm a part of the mystery now... Aye?\" He glanced back at her, smiling slowly again. Be it lie or truth, what he said didn't matter. The ocean's secrets weren't his to tell, they were his to keep. And his devotion was quite convincing.\n\n\n\"Say, I wouldn't confront just any old sailor about his ailments, you know. There comes a lot less kind than me.\" He warned, tucking his kerchief back in his raw leather coat. \"Unless you fancy a swim,\" Iver added, a little warier now. \"With rocks tied to the ankles 'n such.\""
},
{
"author": "morguemann",
"message": "**Ciron Searle\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper**\n\nCiron had met many people in their life. They'd seen faces of most nobles that not even their closest aides had. It was an odd thing to be able to touch vulnerability like that, even at the cost it came. They were used to the staring, the gawking and the puzzled looks. The way they seemed to float between man and woman was troubling for some and a fascination of others. \n\nHe could tell Bradai was less than impressed, sins of the flesh couldn't be the problem for the Lord of Tonate proper, Ciron suspected he wasn't fond of brothels. Despite the many that had occupied the Emerald row. It wasn't much of a reach, they could be particularly troublesome places in the wrong hands. \n\n\"Brothels are necessary, *Are they not?*\" They retorted. \"It's a profitable trade. Good to tax.\" Ciron looked him in the eyes, an unwavering stare. \"I own a handful. Served as head Passionate in more. I've served in the trade longer than I've owned it~\" They mused, the smirk returning, though it was more mischievous than anything. It was a game to make people uncomfortable, to be the object of such polarity in a royal court. The passionate was sure he could hear the faint gasps and hard glares that gouged into the back of their head. The Pirate king and the brothel was all that mattered but there was no rule saying they couldn't have a little fun while they were at it.\n\n.\n\"It's the oldest profession. I keep my creatures of the night safe. My passionates. My whores. I look after them. I pay them enough to feed families. Why deny that, your Grace?\" He asked in return. As much as they rarely served as company these days, with all the travelling. Ciron was still aware of their roots. It had been a long journey to get to earrings of true gold and stones that glittered in the sun. It was common knowledge that whores were often left shunned and abused and Ciron, as disingenuous as he was, had always felt a sense of loyalty to his flock. An instinctual protection of people who had grown up in dire circumstances or less. Ciron understood its value. Their body and company was a small cost to avoid the hunger pains and squalid poverty he had been born into. Still, loyalty was important in the business of keeping secrets, of spreading rumours. Ciron was keen to keep those they employed on side, by coin or *Otherwise*."
},
{
"author": "babyratprincess",
"message": "Lament de Coochie\nMaith Manor\n\nCountess Lament de Coochie floated down the corridors of the Maith mansion with two prunes clutched betwixt her claws. She smiled gummily at the staff that passed, her gelatinous cartilage teeth gleaming in the candlelight. The Pirate King had personally invited her to his chambers so that he could sample her wares. In her excitement, she had forgone the satchel that she would normally transport her prunes in, and elected to house them in her sweaty palms. She hoped that the salt of her sweat, coupled with the 16 day journey it took her to reach her destination, would add a pleasant brine to the prunes that the Pirate King Bradai Maith would very much enjoy.\n\nThus, she found herself waiting anxiously outside his door. Her breaths came out in a quick succession of rapid wheezes and she smiled widely. \n\n\"Let me in!\" She shouted, holding up the poster."
}
] | 326 | 1,083 |
234 | 2022-03-16 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "**Jules-Minnow Lanterns\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper**\n\nThe mood of the court had noticeably soured as the pantheist took his leave. Southerners had a way of fucking up even a good day, apparently. Yet that didn't dampen the fire in Jules's gut as she stood awaiting her name. \n\n\"Now, from the Isle of Lanterns,\" Announced the crier, \"The Iron Poet, Jules-Minnow Lanterns!\"\n\nShe strode confidently down the central isle towards the Pirate King. Lean and light-footed, Jules-Minnow carried herself with the swagger of someone who could handle herself - and knew it from experience. \n\nShe stopped just before the steps and dropped to one knee. Her long braid lightly brushed against the floor as she bowed her head. \n\n\"Yer majesty.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper\n\nMany of his best and bravest had left with his sister on the voyage north, but there were still many Captains in his Isles. He kept the younger ones, primarily. Those that had not yet joined up with his fleets or were still making their meagre fortunes beyond his seas, doing Gods know what. This, he could see, was one of them. She was salty enough, composed enough, spritely enough, respectful enough. But for good measure, he kept her on her knee for a second longer than usual.\n\n\"Rise,\" The Pirate King said, and when she did, she could see that he was smiling. He wanted to say something, but he knew better than to speak first. His Queen, one of fifteen, said something first. \n\nLella-Long Lanterns had similarly long, dark hair that framed her round, comely face and draped over her reclined figure like a shimmering black blanket. Her skin, unlike her husband's or her sister's, was pale and showed only a few freckles, just beneath her eyes. She was inscrutable, and quiet, as always. \n\n\"I didn't think yew'd come,\" Said Lella-Long Lanterns, audible only because the entire court was silent. She scanned her sister up and down before adding, \" 'ow is our brother?\""
},
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "**Jules-Minnow Lanterns\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper**\n\nJules stood only once instructed. She knew the Pirate King's reputation as a stickler for propriety, and she also knew the weight of her ask. Chin up, gaze sharp, she regarded her sister with measured respect. The two hadn't spoken since Jules had left for the sea and Lella had left for Bradai's bed. Yet by Jules's measure, little had changed in her sister: she was still lovely Lella, always in charge, even when sitting beside a king. \n\nJules, on the other hand, had changed drastically. Where the two had once looked nearly identical as children, they couldn't be mistaken now. Jules's hair had gone wavy from salt, bleached by the sun, and her skin was blotchy from peeling. Perhaps the one thing they still shared was their eyes, keenly dark with their own thoughts \n\n\"Not good, sister,\" Jules said, nodding her head towards Bradai. \"It's what I come t'talk about.\""
}
] | 226 | 702 |
438 | 2022-03-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "**Captain Jules-Minnow Lanterns\nCourt of Skulls, Tonate Proper**\n\nJules seemed unaffected by their reaction. In fact, Lella had done just as Jules had hoped: she'd revealed her own sisterly prejudice with her outburst. \"I don't come t'claim 'is birthright, Lella,\" She said right away, squashing the accusation with the disgust of crushing a roach underfoot. \"I don' want our brother dead an' I'd much rather see him as Lord than me. Bu' we're sittin' here like asses expectin' our kid brother to fix a whole island in crisis an' keep our mother an' our younger sisters an' every other person on that island safe, all while 'e's got numbered days. An' while I want t'think he could do it, he just ain't shown us any reason t'think that 'e knows how.\" \n\nShe knew she was on the edge of Bradai's patience so she quickly moved onto the ask. \n\n\"This is m'request. I ask ya to take Mykolas as yer ward, Yer Majesty. Keep 'im safe. Teach 'im. Let me lead the Isle a' Lanterns in his stead, get it stable again, make it safe. Then, if'n he makes it t'fourteen an' you think 'im fit to lead, I'll step aside fer him. Mykolas-Reed will come back with experience an' knowledge to an island that ain't a mess.\"\n\nShe said all of this with true earnesty. Mykolas didn't know how to command people and he didn't know how to fight off invaders. But besides all of that, the boy had never had a chance to live. She pitied him every time she saw him. He reminded her of a mouse, and maybe if he spent time at Tonate Proper he could learn to be a man. But Jules also believed in her mother's prophecy, which is what gave her the confidence for the next part of her ask:\n\n\"Bu' if our mother's right an' Mykolas-Reed dies at thirteen, I ask tha' you name me lord. I'm second oldest, second only t'Lella who's busy here in yer court. I'm a proven leader, a proven fighter, an' I love that island fiercely. An' if you 'ave any reason t'think there was foul play in his death, or if y'think I've done a bad job, ye've still got the authority t'give it to someone else.\"\n\nJules knelt again and bowed her head. She knew it was a lot to ask of the Pirate-King - to personally take on a ward, especially one with a death sentence. She wasn't sure anything like this had ever been done before. But it was the best way she could imagine to keep her claim to the island clean. She braced for ridicule or dismissal."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King Bradai Maith\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper\n\n\"I do not fink you'd kill 'im,\" The Pirate King began, \"The punishment for kinslaying is _terrible._\" He rolled his eyes, as to emphasize the damnation that would come from both above and below. \"And it would be _much_ worse vhen giving the Isle of Lanterns to a trusted associate, believe me. It would mean... Well, my wife is 'ere, and I would not spoil such a fine day wiff such terrible talk.\" \n\nThe Pirate King looked down at Captain Jules-Millow with a wide grin, his three golden teeth on full display as he leaned forward behind his desk. \"No. Not in my Isles, any'ow.\" He narrowed his eyes, inspecting her closely. \n\n\"Hnnh,\" He groaned, and leaned back in his chair with a heavy thump. \"My concern is vhat 'e might kill _you._ I would, if I was 'im. 'e 'as 'is favher's men, I do not doubt. You call 'im weak and well, sure maybe you're right. But I find it's often the weakest men vhat'll go and 'ire some big man, maybe an unscrupulous member of your very crew, to come in the middle of tha night and bash in your little 'ead wiff a mace or a—\" His hand spun upon its wrist, summoning up the right word, \"Well, it would not be pretty, whatever vhey decided to use. And vhen what, aye? Vhen I've got cut out little Mykolas' eyes, 'is tongue, 'is fingers, 'ang 'im from my 'arbor.\" The King shook his head solemnly, \"It would make me sick. I just might puke again. But vhat is sometimes tha price uff peace, eh?\"\n\n\"And you all love me,\" He continued, \"Or maybe you love peace. So why would I choose? Mykolas or you, your favher's wishes or good old fashioned security and fate? Vhere is no way to choose wiffout setting a precedent, aye? So 'ere's what I want. I want 'im here, Captain Jules-Minnow. I want Mykolas in my court, and you want you bofh to talk wiff me. Your family 'as served me well and now I am involved in your succession. Vhere will be compromises aye, but I did not become King by making poor compromises.\"\n\n\"Will vhat suit? Or 'ave you any objections to my request?\""
},
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "**Captain Jules-Minnow Lanterns\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper**\n\nJules lifted her head. It wasn't what she wanted, but perhaps she could still make this work in her favor. *If* Mykolas would even come, she doubted he could prove himself in any meaningful way. \"Nay, no objection,\" She said. \"I thank ya for the time an' wisdom, Yer Majesty.\" \n\nShe stood again and gave a wordless nod to her sister before turning on her heel and making her way swiftly out of the court. He did have a point, but it wasn't Mykolas she feared would send a killer."
}
] | 558 | 1,314 |
448.333333 | 2022-03-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Maren\n\nCourt of Bradai Maith, Tonate Proper\n\n\nThe next person to speak to the king was almost looked over, but she held her hand upward to make sure the people in charge of the impressive line of commoners coming to speak their piece noticed the insignificant child. \n\n\nMaren stepped forward as some chuckles went through the crowd. What could a mere child want from the King of the Southern Isles? She wore the same dress she was brought in, it was a fine light blue, and the fabric was more expensive, but the ends were dirty, and her feet were bare. She had pulled off her shawl to reveal her shoulders, covered in raised Oldtongue symbols scarred into her from a young age. She was northern, emaciated, and pale. She bowed lowly, her hair falling from her shoulders to curtain her round face. \n\n\n\"Da king of the south.\" She murmured. Realizing she couldn't be heard, she raised her head. \"Uh... Hallo, King!\" She said confidently, and the crowd chuckled once more. \"I have come from no home, and no hope, and I have come to talk to the King who is... You're a good king!\" She fidgeted, looking around at the whispering crowd. \"Uh... Uhm... Because you take care of your people like a real papa! You don't be better, you are all good together.\" She wasn't certain if she was making sense, but she knitted her fingers to prove the point. \n\n\n\"I have come from... A bad place with no kings. And coming from... That place, I don't know how to talk or act for you. I'm sorry. B-but... A lot of people say I'm special! And I want to help... You. And Puck, and your... Your friend, there! I wanna help them too!\" She pointed at Silas. Perhaps he would remember her from the ball. \"I have tasted your... Your surf... Surfer... Sufferin'! I feel your hurt, you're made... Mads... Madness. And I can... I can try and help, see?\" She pointed to her scars.\n\n\nThe crowd had continued muttering, but few were left laughing. \n\n\"...Because I need your help. I was told it's called a tr.. Trade.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Court of Skulls\n\nHe was just about to get up and leave for his midday lunch when a little girl wandered onto the floor of his court and became a petitioner. One the servants that had been summoned to move his desk away from his throne took a step back, unsure as whether or not to proceed with his orders. \n\n\"Just a drink, vhen,\" The King said softly, and the servant nodded before heading back behind the dais. They returned a moment later with a goblet of chilled rum. The girl looked simple and poor, not unlike the urchins that ran around his city, but her accent was not that of the Isles. It was not uncommon for escaped slaves to come to his city and request audience. More often than not, he met with them when he could, because all slaves were brothers. But very rarely did a _child_ ever demand an audience. \n\nWhen she spoke, she spoke to him directly and then to Silas, whose veneer of utter boredom shattered when she showed his scars and talked of his suffering. If he was interested in what the girl was saying he did not show it, only propping himself upon his elbow slightly when she mentioned Puckgordon, his apprentice. \n\nHis court was laughing, and as usual, he was in no mood to laugh. \n\n\"Oi!\" The King shouted, \"I'll 'ave no laughing!\" His face turned sour, \"Snickering and _cackling_ at a little girl, aye? Aye?!\" \n\nWhen they calmed down, the King set the goblet on the desk and grabbed his quill. This was all out of order.\n\n\"Firstly, I must know your name,\" The King said, \"And I must know your reason for coming, and 'ow you got 'ere. I do not do business wiff little girls like yourself, aye, but if you want my 'elp I must 'ear you out. So, state your name, where you're from, why you're 'ere. If only because I must 'ave it in my ledgers. If you do not, I must send you back to wherever you came from.\""
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Maren\n\nCourt of Bradai Maith, Tonate Proper\n\n\nMaren swallowed her nerves as Bradai defended her, the chucklers weaved into the crowd were shut up subsequently after the King's holler. She felt those nerves starting to emerge again as he told her what she had to declare.\n\n\n\"....Uhm... Before I say anything, King! I want you to know I never got to make a choose before!\" She held her hands together tightly. \"My name is Maren. I don't have no other name. I was... I'm from *Way* Over there.\" She pointed North. \"Over water and ground. And snow.\" She said, unsure of what to call the Witherlands. \"Where people are scared to go.\" She nodded. \"I was freed from a hole by my brother Enoch, before I drowned in it by the water. My father put me there cause I dropped... I dropped his meal.\" She felt her lip tremble, but she shook her head and looked at Bradai with glassy eyes. \"But I was brought here by... By... The sk... The Skaggerlies. But I didn't have no choosing. He said I was good luck. My father had made me into a vessel.\" She dragged her fingers over her scars again, her bottom lip pushed out with fear of what would happen to her. \n\n\n\"He said I was good luck, but he was hurted cause of what he done. I'm special, but I'm not good luck. He never loved me, no one ever loved me. But he bringed me here. He never hurt me, but he didn't let me go. I'm sorry, King, if you don't want to help me, will you still let me go?\" She was on the verge of tears. \"Even if I wanna help, I wanna be free... More than anything... Want someone to loved me.\""
}
] | 457 | 1,345 |
371.333333 | 2022-03-31 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "justlux.",
"message": "Neama Morrow\nTonate Proper\n\nThe child stayed put despite Asher's words, turning back to look up at the woman behind him. \n\"It's alright, Ilo. You can go now.\"\nWithout as much as a word the kid snuck past Asher to get to the door, disappearing as fast as he had shown up and closing the door behind him. Only then did Neama look towards Asher.\n\nShe had been waiting for him for a while now. The only sign of her being there earlier was the small wooden table that, together with two chairs, seemed to be the only furniture in the barren room. A stack of letters were spread across the wood. Now Neama stood in front of Asher, hands clasped in front of her brown skirt. Like most of the time her clothing blended with the surroundings. If it wasn't for the heavy jewelry she couldn't be distinguished from anyone else on the streets. \n\"I hope you'll forgive me. You can be quite a hard man to reach.\" Her voice started off serious, but shortly after a soft smile appeared on her face, \"As you were last time. How have you been?\"\n\n\nKeeping up to her image she started off like they've known each other for longer. Neama had found that keeping the people you worked with close was as important as anything. She had mastered radiating the just and honest appearance, but there wasn't any way to fully convince people she worked with. There would always be distrust. Rightfully so."
},
{
"author": "uncertainty01",
"message": "Asher Tillabid\nTonate Proper\n\nAsher shook his head lightly as his parrying dagger found it's way back into the little sheath on his belt. Almost every conversation felt a game, how much information could a person slip out of him? Seldom was there an exception and Neama tended to be the biggest of them, to the eyes of the ferryman made her dangerous; perhaps longing for the light hearted banter he was starved of or perhaps from her humble disarming personality Asher's face slipped in a small smile, feeling as though he was falling for what must've been another lure already. \n\n\"I'm- I'm well, busy much like yourself I presume?\" The ferryman had a hard time finding a rhythm in conversation that deviated from his usual inhospitable nature and that much would be the easiest thing to read and further exploit for a person like Neama. \"If I was easy to find I'm not sure you'd have sought me out again admittedly.\"\nAsher commented wanting to reign the conversation back into a something he had some better control over quickly, albeit clear what his attempt was and likely in vain.\n\nGiven the little exchange so far and having some time to already adjust Asher's hands lifted his eyepatch up to his sun bleached hair, the once long dark curls having faded to a dirty blonde long ago. Unknowingly Asher gave her another advantage, being able to see both his eyes and the ways the moved about her features in assessment, noting her jewelry longer than anything else until finally landing on the set of chairs."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Court of Skulls, Tonate Proper\n\nWhen he looked at the rum in chalice, he realized had no stomach for it any longer. He had sympathy for children, but this girl had spoiled his appetite. The mess with the Skaggerlies he could understand. It was to his understanding that they made deals with slavers, so what was one child slave abord their ship? She had mentioned belonging to one of the men, probably the one he had imprisoned. He had busied himself with writing down all the information in his ledger, but after only a short while, he quickly came to terms with the fact that he didn't know what she was talking about. A vessel? Good luck? \n\nWhen she mentioned just wanting to be loved, he could not help but wrinkle his nose. There was not much more of _that_ kind of talk that he could endure. \n\n\"I do not know 'ow I can 'elp you. I can give you a few warm meals and a bed until someone collects you, vhen put you in tha way uff a good orphanage so no one presses you into bondage, but vhis is no inn, and I do not take in every poor soul vhat wanders fhrough my doors. I'm sorry, but no, I can not 'elp—\"\n\n_\"Your Majesty...\"_ No one had noticed Silas Asgarov rise from his chaise lounge and make his way halfway to the King's throne. He had taken a knee, and his long dark hair cascaded down his shoulders and to hang in loose curls like a black veil. He exposed his pale palms in a show of submission, and his fingers curled slightly as if in prayer. \n\n\"...Allow for me to inspect the girl. I have reason to suspect she may be of interest.\"\n\nThe King grunted again, for he did not like being interrupted, and bid his Seneschal to stand, \"Fine, I grant your request.\"\n\nThere was something else in his eyes now, when he looked at the girl. It was more than pity.\n\n\"Go now, little Marin, make yourself scarce. You will stay wiff us for as long as my Seneschal sees fit to keep you in 'is...\" He had to stop himself from saying _collection._ \"Family,\" He said instead."
}
] | 324 | 1,114 |
533 | 2022-04-22 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "Ollie \nThe Headquarters of His Majesty's Trading Company\n\nThe Headquarter's of His Majesty's Trading Company was, perhaps, the most opulent place in Tonate Proper. The Maith Mansion was beautiful, he had to admit, but there was a certain beauty within the walls of the Headquarters that surmounted that of even the King's royal keep. \n\nThe Headquarters of His Majesty's Trading Company was a simple, square three story building with brown walls and a clay shingled roof, not unlike the other buildings in the Iron's District. It stood beside the Guild of the Wharfmasters, which in all accounts was a better maintained and more attractive building, but inside was no more than a collection of longtables, a smattering of chairs and piles of unorganized ledgers, complete with dust and cobwebs. Everything inside the Headquarters His Majesty's Trading Company was made of fine maroon leather or dark wood, and it all stank intoxicatingly of rum, ink, sugar, pepper and tobacco smoke. It was a place of _business,_ where good men came to do dirty work for the sake of the Kingdom of the Southern Isles. \n\nOllie's office, which on the second floor of the Headquarters of His Majesty's Trading Company was a sparse little thing. His name was placard onto the door in silver lettering. The space was messy, not only because was he always coming and going so quickly as to place his ledgers and books anywhere he could set them down, but also because the information enclosed within those ledgers and books was often so secretive that no one was allowed to come in and fix up the place. Once a maid had mistakenly wandered in to his second floor office and began to dust the unruly piles. Ollie had to have her eyes gouged. She had died in the process, and then he had to put her feet in cement and sink her offshore. \n\n_\"But vhat's why you read tha door,\"_ Bradai had said. _\"You always read the door, Ollie.\"_ \n\nHe supposed there was some truth to that. \n\nThere was a knock.\n\nThe door opened slightly ajar allowing only for a voice, and no peering eyes, to pass the doorframe. \n\n\"Mykolas-Reed Lanters 'as arrived in tha Whistlefish. E' awaits yer arrival in the 'angedman's 'arbour.\" \n\n\"So he does,\" Said Ollie McAllister, \"Bring a carriage around, and we'll meet him.\"\n\n\"Aye, ser,\" The voice said, and was gone."
},
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "**Mykolas-Reed Lanterns\nTonate Proper, the Irons**\n\nAs they approached the gates leading into the city, Tokiel squeezed his shoulder. \"Don't be frightened,\" He urged. \"This treatment is only for criminals.\"\n\nIt took Mykolas a moment to realize what his guardian was talking about. Above them, swaying from atop the red walls and partially concealed by clusters of seagulls, dozens of skeletons were slumped inside cages and dangling by chains. One body was especially fresh and dripping. Gulls were gathered on its shoulders and inside its abdomen, stripping off flesh and fighting over the ribbons. They'd already taken the most tender morsels off the skull and were now focused on the arms and thighs. Mykolas was startled to realize the sight didn't bother him at all. *Maybe it's because none of them have faces,* He thought as they passed.\n\nOnce through the gates, Tokiel kept his arm firmly looped around Mykolas's shoulders. He steered them through breaks in the crowd, trying to protect Mykolas from being jostled as much as possible. It was a noble but fruitless effort. Only two, maybe three hundred people lived on the Isle of Lanterns and Mykolas figured there must have been at least that many on the one boulevard alone.\n\nFinally they escaped through a side street that lead them to a large brick square. They were surrounded by some of the most impressive architecture Mykolas had seen yet - huge, multi-floored structures with gabled roofs and dormers and bright glass windows. They went to a bench to sit and await their chaperone. Tokiel set their belongings protectively between his feet.\n\n\"Mykolas,\" He said, \"Until the moment we step foot again on the Whistlefish, you're not to leave my side.\"\n\"Uh-huh, I know.\"\n\"Stop and listen to me,\" Tokiel scolded. \"There are dangers here, in places you wouldn't expect. I've sworn to protect you, but I can't hope to do that if you don't follow my directions. Do you understand?\"\nMykolas paused to make certain Tokiel was done. \"I understan', Tokiel.\"\n\"You remember what you're to tell the Pirate King?\"\n\"Yea, I 'member.\" But his mind was elsewhere. There was a group of people passing through the square dressed in long black coats that swept behind them like feathers. He couldn't help but think they looked like big black roosters. \n\nWhen the carriage arrived, pulled by two mules, Mykolas was fascinated. He'd only seen donkeys before, and these were certainly not donkeys. They were too big, long-limbed, and their fur was flat rather than shaggy. He assumed that these creatures must be horses, an animal he'd only ever seen in books.\n\"This must be them,\" Tokiel said, standing. Mykolas stood as well, fully attentive as the carriage rolled to a stop before them."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "Ollie\nThe Irons District, off the Hangman's Harbour, Tonate Proper\n\nThe carriage was a simple thing, a rounded roof covered a wooden wagon that sported woven wicker windows and a wooden door that opened directly onto the street. The entire thing was painted in the colors of House Maith, the wooden a dark black and the wicker a cool teal. On the back flapped a banner of the House Maith, the poppyflower on proud display. At once, the driver pulled back on the reigns and brought the carriage to a stop. The mules tugged against their restraints feebly before whinnying and eventually stopping, although not without an unhappy twist of their long, brown necks. One of them looked at Tokiel, flapping it's long lips in his direction in an exhale.\n\nWhen the door opened, a young man emerged. He was red of hair. It was a bright, orangey red and not the rusty copper of the Tonati. He was babyfaced, with a light dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks. He gave a youthful smile as he dismounted from the carriage. His hair was close cut but messy on the top, with a flourish of rogue hairs that could only be an unintentional cowlick. His skin was pale, and that was enough to mark him for a man belonging to the King, but for emphasis, he also wore a dark black overcoat, emblazoned with the teal poppyflower on it's breast. \n\nThe young man took only a few strides to meet the pair. \"Lord Lanterns,\" He said, and gave a brief bow of the head in respect. The effort seemed rehearsed, but nonetheless genuine. \"The King has put aside a lodging for your stay in Tonate Proper.\" His tone implied a follow-up sentence, once that silently said: _\"And we should not keep him waiting, don't you think?\"_\n\nThe door to the carriage lay open, a dark refuge from the bright and airy harborside. \n\nWith a hand, Ollie ushered them both in."
}
] | 532 | 1,599 |
203.666667 | 2022-05-05 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Breakfast Balcony, the Maith Mansion\n\n _Men like us._ \n\n\"Mmn,\" Was what the King said in response, and a few moments later in between bites of orange, \"Aye.\" \n\nHe rolled his head on his shoulders, groaning as his neck popped, once, twice, and three times when he placed his palm against his chin and forced it down. Then he sighed and relaxed into the chair, removing his rings one by one. They formed a gaudy little pile beside his place setting, the gemstones and pearls glimmering in the sunlight.\n\nThe Pirate King stood a long, sharp knife and began carving apart a pamelo he plucked from the middle of the table. It was clear he had done it any times before, the way he gripped in his rough hand and twisted it as he lopped off pieces with the blade. When Valkrin took out the bottle of wine, Bradai dropped the fruit and the knife. There was something in his eyes then, something suspicious, something funny.\n\n_\"Your_ vineyard?\" The Pirate King snatched the bottle of wine by the neck and twisted it around in the sunlight, watching the bubble rise and fall in the bottle through one squinting eye, as if to appraise it's quality. \"Well aren't you a proper Terreme Lordling, eh? Inviting me to your vineyard for a walk around tha place?\" He said with a smile. \n\n\" 'ave you tried it?\" The King unfastened the stopper and passed the open bottle back across the table."
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nBalcony, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Have I tried it?\" Valkrin scoffed, picking up the bottle and pouring a glass. After finishing it, he passed the bottle back across the table. \n\n\"Poison is a coward's weapon, Maith. Besides, my days of regicide are long over, ended with Kelwynd.\" \n\nHe shifted around in his chair, with nowhere comfortable to fit his tall frame. \"I know the feeling, spent a few years wondering if Queen Lane sent anyone after my head. Can't imagine it's any easier as a king.\""
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Breakfast Balcony, The Maith Mansion\n\nThe Pirate King inspected Valkrin closely as he drank the wine, and then the pair sat in complete silence until he had to make a decision: either Valkrin was telling the truth or it was slow acting poison. He had poisoned before, and he did not relish being poisoned again, but there were many reason why he thought he might be able to trust Valkrin's wine. He ran the city watch well enough, he had sworn his swords and the swords of his crews to him during the war, he had no ambitions to be a King or to make anyone else King of the Isles. \n\n\"I wish I 'ad not dismissed my royal taster,\" The King said, before shrugging and pouring himself a glass. He spun it around, watching it pool around the rim, before taking a sip and letting it rest on his tongue. \n\n\"Hmmph,\" He pursed his lips and nodded, \"It _is_ a good wine. Tell your vintner vhat I like it and I'll take a cask whenever vhey can send it.\"\n\nThen something funny occurred to him and he laughed. \n\n\"Farensun wine casks in Maith wine cellars. Are we still vhe terrible pirates vhey say we are?\" Bradai set the cup of wine down and began to tear apart the flesh of the pomelo with his fingers, feeding himself chunks of juicy pink. He swallowed hard, sighing as he did. \"A merchant and a watchman, per'aps.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nBalcony, Maith Mansion\n\n\"We're far off from the villains in those stories, aye. Almost feels like all the true pirates are gone, the end of an era.\" He picked up a fruit he'd never seen before, took a bite, and promptly spit it out into a napkin. \"What the fuck is that? It's horrible.\" \n\nValkrin poured some beer into his glass and washed the taste out, picking up a slice of ham instead. \"I'll have a few casks delivered to you by tomorrow night. First one at market price, the other two are a gift.\" \n\n*A merchant and a watchman.*"
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Pirate King, Bradai Maith\nThe Breakfast Balcony, the Maith Mansion\n\n\"Yeah,\" Bradai said, \"I fear not. Tha Lanterns'll tell you anuvher story. Just vhis monff passed a group of pirates lay waste to vheir isle, robbing 'omes, taking slaves and raping women. Vhey killed vheir favher in tha process. And now vhey're in the middle uff a crisis uff succession. It's between a cursed little boy and 'is sister, Jules-Minnow, the _Iron Poet.\"_ Bradai shrugged, \"The Poet 'as asked me to settle the dispute, and I need your 'elp for it.\" \n\nThe Pirate King poured himself a cup of beer as well, \"Vhat's a kumquat, by the way. Too tart to eat on it's own. Squeeze it in rum or tea. Beer if you like. I ravher like vhem.\""
},
{
"author": "cas7572",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nBalcony, Maith Mansion\n\n\"Did these pirates fly any colors? Any idea of their heading?\" Most Scag crews knew to stay well away from the Isles or keep their raids to a minimum. \n\nValkrin pondered a moment, trying to think of any major Scag crews that might be near the Isles, but none came to mind. \"And what exactly do you need my help with?\""
}
] | 173.5 | 1,222 |
532 | 2022-06-18 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Herin had been staying in Tonate for a few days now, staying at different inns each night, rotating through the city with one eye over his shoulder like a hunted animal. Ever since Tam, he felt like someone was watching him, he knew it was probably just paranoia, he couldn't shake the feeling that as soon as he stopped jumping at every shadow, something was going to step out of them. He tried to push away the feelings by focusing on his mission, analyzing the city. Even that task had become troublesome though, as Herin found himself overwhelmed by the sheer magnanimity of it all. How do you understand the impacts of things like sewers and waste disposal when all your life you've lived in shanty-towns where people poured buckets of human waste out their windows at night? Whatever insights Herin had hoped to glean into the mind of Bradai Maith were obscured by the sheer alien nature of Tonate. It had begun to dawn on Herin that Tonate was something unlike the rest of the isles, a separate entity living within the heart of the nation. It truly was a reflection of its ruler in that sense, a gaudy, pompous monument to power, lording its power over the rest of the lands. Its great red walls, dotted with the corpses of scags, seemed to scream out for attention. Herin could not deny that it was a beautiful city, but it screamed of desperation. A monument to power built to house the ego of its paranoid ruler.\n\nAnd yet, Herin had not found that sentiment popular among the people of Tonate. He didn't go around asking people if they wanted Maith dead, he had been more subtle than that at least, but in his conversations at taverns and markets, he found that most people supported Maith, or at least found him preferable to the alternative. Oh there were certainly people who thought Maith had his flaws, yet compared to the idea of scags, Maith was practically a saint. And as far as Herin's own ploy at sainthood went, any news of his attacks in the Tardide waters was slow to reach Tonate. A few merchants he talked to had heard rumors of burned plantations and scag pirates with a crimson flag, but it seemed Maith was hard at work suppressing news of his actions. In Tonate it seemed, Maith reigned supreme, the people knew what he wanted them to know and thought what he wanted them to think. If it was anyone other than Maith, Herin would want to shake their hand for exercising such control, but that power in the hands of a man like Bradai Maith only served to anger Herin. If he had to burn Maith's sheltered paradise to the ground to break his hold on Tonate, Herin would do it with glee.\n\nHerin's inner ranting was pushed aside as he found himself at his destination, a seedy Tavern in the stilts by the name of the Red Squirrel. He had heard of this place from his contacts, smugglers and pirates who operated right beneath Maith's nose. The whole of the stilts seemed to be the one place Maith couldn't control, a blighted growth right in the heart of his carefully curated paradise. Of course, that didn't mean Maith had no presence here, he had eyes and ears in every part of this city, though apparently the stilts didn't count as part of the Tonate proper. *Typical* Herin thought, *If you can't control it, toss it out like a chamber pot*. It did seem like all the waste from the city ended up in the stilts though, beggars and paupers lined the alleys, begging for coins from the people who were only a few coins away from being in the exact same state as they were. It surprised Herin, but wading through the scum of the stilts, he felt more at home than he had since arriving in Tonate.\n\nA brawny fellow working the door at the Red Squirrel gave Herin a look, but let him in without issue. Herin doubted he'd have trouble getting in, he didn't seem to vary much from their usual clientele. The whole tavern was filled with men who stretched the definition of the word, pirates and smugglers, killers and thieves, Herin recognized the tattoos as markings of crews he'd done business with before. He wondered how many would recognize him if he had his mask on. Yet out of all the patrons, only one caught his attention, a woman seemingly drinking alone. In a place like this, that meant something, though Herin was unsure of what exactly that something was. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to talk to her, his goal was not to attract attention, after all, yet this entire trip was an ill-informed idea in the first place, so compounding his own stupidity didn't seem too bad an idea. Then again, this wasn't the first tavern Herin had visited today, so every idea seemed at least plausible to him at this point. As Herin sat down across from the woman, his every instinct seemed to say this was a mistake, yet all he did was smirk and motion for the bartender to bring him a drink. \n\"Interesting place to come for a drink, eh?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\nWary side glances were casted towards the young woman from the moment she had entered the tavern. She was far from welcomed inside the establishment but fortunately no one was willing to risk confronting the ill-tempered shifter in fear she may react in a way she had previously that left many temporarily and a few permanently disabled. So she sat by herself, drinking an ale that did nothing to satisfy her through intoxication but instead, was used as an aid to avoid looking suspicious while gathering her own intel when eavesdropping on the conversations around her. She had her own reasons for wanting to collect information on those traveling through the isles, listening to the discussions they have with their companions or those haggling for knowledge and secrets. \nHer feet rested comfortably against the surface of the chair pulled out beside her while slouching against the backrest of the chair she was sitting on. The olive tunic dress she wore, belted at her waist, had smears of dried blood stained on the cuffs from her recent endeavours that involved a couple of handsy men who were visiting from the mainland who kept themselves isolated enough to not be missed by anyone but each other. As she paid attention to a couple of smugglers who were quietly conversing about a trade involving a group of captured women turned slaves, surprise caught her when a man she'd never laid eyes on previously took the seat opposite of her. \nHer head slowly craned towards Herin and observed him momentarily while eyeing him down. Throwing her feet onto the floor beneath the table, she placed both her arms against the surface and leaned in with her head cocked. Cecilia painted a feigned smile on her lips as she stared towards the man in an uncomfortable manner. \n\n\"And who the fuck are you?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Two things about this woman immediately jumped out to Herin, both of which a wiser man would consider bright red flags that said \"Walk away\". The first was the blood stains around her cuffs. They weren't exactly well disguised, which either meant this woman was an inexperienced killer who didn't know how to dispose of evidence, or she just didn't care who knew what she had done. Either way, that made her unpredictable, and unpredictable was dangerous. The second red flag was the way she moved. When she leaned over the table, her head slightly tilted and a forced smile that more resembled baring fangs on her lips, Herin was struck by how much she resembled Nostrom. It was animalistic, in a sense, the same movements a wolf or a bird of prey might make. Herin began to feel more than a bit uncomfortable, but he refused to let it show on his face, keeping his charade of serene confidence up as he met the gaze of this woman. \n\n\"A visitor to this great city.\" He chuckled, taking a sip of his ale to hide the falseness of the laugh. \"Name's Perun, came all the way from Tardide. Honestly feeling a bit let down, stories made this place seem a bit grander.\" \n\nHerin made a show of looking around the room before turning back to Cecilia, raising a curious eyebrow as he returned her gaze. \"I might ask you the same question, what brings a lady like you to the stilts, eh? You were drinking alone before I came along, so I doubt it's the company, eh?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah\nThe Stilts\n \nAs the man across from her began introducing himself, she took less notice of the way his facial features expressed himself and instead kept her eyes pierced towards him as the corners of her lips lowered from its smile, wondering if he would break his facade through a wavering tone in his voice or a hint of a stutter. She practically grew up through lies and deceit and knew the game well. \n \n\"Interesting name.\" Cecilia retrieved her arms from the table as she regained her composure and rested her spine against the backrest of the chair. He had a pair on her, that she could admit to herself as he continued to speak to her. Others in the tavern eyed them cautiously, waiting for the shifter to break character. She did not however, instead, Cecilia kept an expressionless demeanor when questioned for her reasoning to be in a tavern like this alone. \"Well *Perun*\" It was a unique name, one she had never heard of before. Though it shouldn't be a surprise considering the names of the past men and women she had met in her life. \"It's not usually wise asking a stranger their business in a type of place like this. I understand it might feel alright to do so because I am a woman, but the same rules apply.\"\n \nA mere second after the words left her lips, Cecilia's attitude quickly changed as a mischievous smile grew on her features. \"But maybe if you are fortunate, you'll find out my reasons for being here. Or unfortunate, I guess it depends on your take of how that ends. Since we are asking personal questions, Why is a visitor like you choosing this part of tonate to adventure through? That sounds a bit... Dumb\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Well it was no longer a question in Herin's mind, those bloodstains were a warning, not the sloppy mistake of a third-rate killer. You probably didn't last long in the stilts if you weren't good at disposing of bodies. Herin was sitting across the table from a very dangerous woman, but now he had a measure of her, somehow that steeled his nerves. \nIn a dangerous situation like this one, Herin had found that fear was usually more dangerous than the situation itself. He could not afford to feel fear now, and so he took another swig of ale and resolved he would not be made the prey this night. \n\"It's also not considered wise for a woman to drink alone in the stilts, I'm a newcomer and even I know that.\" He put a forearm on the table, leaning over in mock contemplation. \"Yet, by the way all the men in this tavern look at you, I doubt you care about that sort of danger.\" Herin could feel the eyes on them, all the fools in this tavern looked at Herin like he was a dead man walking. \n\nHerin leaned back in his chair, looking at the patrons staring at them before looking back to Cecilia. She could tell he wasn't telling the truth, she had the attitude of a cat in the process of hunting a mouse, pawing around the point before striking. Herin couldn't avoid her questions, but perhaps he could use her curiosity to her advantage. \n\"It seems to me we're both hiding things, so I propose a game. It's very popular where I come from. Ever hear of Liar's Pitchers?\" Herin motioned for the barkeep to come over. \"Six for the table, and pour them heavy, will you?\" \n\n\"The rules are simple, we each get three pitchers. Then, we ask each other questions. You either answer the question, or you drink a pitcher. First one to finish their drinks either pays for the table, or the next round, if the conversation is interesting.\" \nThe barkeep returned with the drinks, slamming down a tray of full pitchers between the two.\n\"So, how about it, eh?\""
}
] | 378 | 2,660 |
310.615385 | 2022-06-19 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah\nThe Stilts\n\nA soft chuckle escaped her, knowing she stood out like a sore thumb among the scavengers and thieves. It didn't bother her the slightest, similar to how she was able to ignore their glares. \"I guess you could say I enjoy the attention.\"\n\nWhen a game was mentioned, a thin brow was raised in question to what the man in front of her had planned. However the shifter remained in phased when he spoke of the rules. She found the whole idea a tad unfair for the man as he was at a significant disadvantage but wanted to see how this would play out. Nonetheless, she was more than happy to see how this would play out. \n\n\"Alright.\" She began while reaching for one of the pitchers, intrigued with the answers she may find about him. She had the coin and tolerance to draw this game of questioning out, the question that brushed her mind was if she would be truthful. \n\n\"I will begin since you so *Delightfully* Brought yourself to my table.\" The sarcasm in her voice was evident to even the most naive minds. \"Why are you at the stilts? No visitor comes here without an ulterior motive.\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Well at least she wasn't throwing him a curveball with that question. It was a basic one, but it cut to the heart of the issue, and would determine how they played the game. Lying was the obvious solution to the question, but it did have its consequences. If she knew he was lying, which seemed to be a plausible outcome, then she would have no reason to tell the truth either, and the whole exercise would be pointless. Telling her the truth wasn't an option either, for obvious reasons, and neither was taking a drink and avoiding such an easy question, at least it would be easy for someone with nothing to hide. \n\n\"I'm here on business, or more accurately, the prospect of business. I wanted to see how welcoming Tonate proper may be to my future ventures.\" A wry formed on his lips \"And of course to see it might be welcoming in... Other ways.\" Not a complete lie, in fact, it was completely truthful save for the last part, and even then, only partly false, just missing a few details. Herin could work with a game of half truths, in fact it might be more fun that way. \n\n\n\"Now I believe it's my turn. A simple one to start with, what's your name? I've told you mine but I still have yet to learn yours, seems a bit rude, eh?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n \nHis answer sounded logical enough to be the truth so she simply accepted it without doubt. Cecilia did pay attention to the way he worded his response and the lack in detail, already forming another question to follow but was forced to wait her turn when Perun returned with his own. It was a simple one to many, yet Cecilia caught herself stuck in a decision of which name to provide him. Many knew her by two names with one being widely known for her destructive acts and the bounty for her life in the mainland. He didn't seem the type to make an uncalculated move against her and many on the Isles were already aware of her presence so she didn't see the harm in being truthful. \n \n\"My name is Cecilia.\" Her nails tapped one after another against the side of her pitcher as her eyes drifted to their surroundings. Many had grown bored when they realized the shifter wasn't planning on harming the man accompanying her and took their attention away from the two. Returning her focus to Perun, she carefully eyed his body language when asking him her next question. She wouldn't be surprised if he drank. \"What ventures are these that you speak of?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n The name wasn't instantly familiar, but she said it with the tone that implied she had something of a reputation. He didn't have to wonder what she had a reputation for though, the bloodstains cleared up any confusion as to that. Her next question gave him a slight pause, it was a natural follow up, yet it was still slightly annoying to have someone insist upon knowing more about a purposefully vague topic. He almost considered taking a drink, but he wanted to avoid being the first one to skip a question. The best chance at getting answers was always before people started to drink heavily, ale always went down easier after the first few pitchers, and if he started skipping questions it would be an invitation for her to do the same. \n\n\"Land acquisition.\" He said simply, it was the truth after all. The men around them had mostly gone back to looking at their drinks, which meant they weren't expecting Herin to die, hopefully. It seemed as if he was past the point of immediate danger, though then again, depending on what questions he asked, that might change quickly.\n \"Now, I believe you never answered my original question, what brings you to a place like this all alone? And don't tell me it's for the drinks, I think they water down the ale with piss here.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n \nHer jaw tightened as a grin was concealed towards his obvious annoyance. She could see the hesitation to answer the question yet when he did manage to respond, Cecilia found herself disappointed. It gave away as much as the answer to her first question. If he wanted to play this way, Cecilia was more than happy to accommodate her answers to be just as vague as the ones he provided. \n \n\"Listening.\" She wondered how long the two would tip toe around each other's questions. If they continued this way throughout the entire rounds, neither of them would gain any beneficial answers from each other. \"You'll find a lot about someone and their motives or new gossip they've stumbled across when eavesdropping on their conversations. For example, it's an excellent way to find fun blackmail worthy material. What is the saying? Information is power? I'm pretty sure I've heard someone say that before at least.\"\n \nShe thought on her next question in silence for a couple seconds before finally taking her turn. \"So what do you do with yourself exactly? Surely acquiring land isn't your only way of living. You seem to have more of a personality than that.\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Herin hadn't expected such a... Honest answer from her. Gathering information at the Red Squirrel meant gathering information regarding more illicit businesses, and that meant she either was a criminal herself, or working against them. This woman was growing more and more interesting. He pondered her next question, perhaps one good turn deserved another, he would try honesty for a change, at least as much honesty as he could safely manage. \n\n\"I'll admit, land acquisition is a rather recent venture for me, normally my trade is the same as many of the men drinking here.\" He gestured to a few of their fellow patrons, the rough looking fellows with the tattoos that marked them as pirates. \"Yet you can only grow so large in that trade before you have to make a choice, set your sights higher or rot away under your own weight, so to speak.\" He took a small sip of his drink, seemingly thinking to himself before continuing. \"So, land acquisition seemed the next logical step.\" \n\nThat was about as close he could get to saying 'I'm planning on taking over the Isles with an army of scags' as he could get, and honestly he was a bit worried she might figure something out. If she really was the type of woman who paid attention to the type of things scags and pirates said in taverns, she might have heard of the Hanged Raiders, and if she put one and two together, well he doubted she'd know he was their leader, but she might think him an affiliate, which wasn't good either.\n\"My turn, you said you were listening for information here, so who are you gathering information for? Is this just a hobby for you, or is there something more to your eavesdropping?\" Herin wasn't sure of anything, but he knew about Maith's poppies, his eyes and ears across the isles. She didn't seem like one of them, but that was the entire point of hidden spies, wasn't it?"
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n \nShe was never the brightest person but it wasn't difficult to piece together what he meant. It was ballsy to say the least and made sense for him to make that move considering she had given away almost just as much. It also allowed him to peak her interest in him further, possibly diminishing her plan to take his life after they finished their conversation. After all, she wasn't simply allowing him to know as much as she had planned to give away in exchange for his own information, she was learning to not be as reckless. \n \nCecilia doubted he spoke of land acquisition as if he planned on acquiring the land through ethical tactics. The man did admit to living the same life as those who surrounded them. How he planned on doing so considering Bradai's reputation? It would be interesting to watch how it played out. When he followed her tactic with a follow up question from the previous, a smirk played on her lips as she decided to be the first to drink from her pitcher. The shifter downed the liquid inside with continuous large swigs until the last drop passed her lips before bringing it back down, all while maintaining eye contact with him.\n \n\"My turn.\" She didn't waste any time with her next question. \"Is Perun your real name?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n She had taken a drink instead of answering a question, Herin had to hide a smile, the game was afoot. Of course, sometimes silence spoke louder than words, and her refusal to answer gave him a fairly clear idea of who she was. If she was a criminal, spying for some organization, then she probably would have implied as such, same as he did with his answer, but her silence, combined with the cautious looks every man in the bar had been giving her, confirmed his suspicions, she was a spy. For who, he didn't know. The most likely candidate was Bradai Maith, though Araedia and Terresol were both still possibilities. He would have to see if he could nail down her allegiance. \n\nHe openly smiled at her next question, he was wondering if she'd question his name. He was about to respond before a thought crossed his mind, his real name was known to only a few, even within the leadership of the hanged raiders. 'Herin Farensun' wasn't an enemy of the crown, only the Hanged Captain was. Being truthful might offer an advantage as well, his family name would be quite familiar to someone in the service of Maith, and that could be useful. \n\"No, it isn't.\" He said simply, pausing for a second as if that was the entirety of his answer. \"To save you from wasting another question, I'll give you my real name, Herin Farensun, at your service.\" \nHe watched carefully for any signs of a reaction upon telling her his last name. If she was an agent of Maith, or Terresol now that he thought of it, that name might mean something to her. \n\n\"You know, the patrons here have been giving you strange looks all night.\" Herin mused, tapping his fingers on the table and looking around the tavern before returning his gaze to Cecilia. \"You mind explaining why that is? Men normally don't look at a woman like you the same way they look at a caged bear.\""
},
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "Lord Mykolas-Reed Lanterns\nMaith Manor, Tonate Proper \n\nMykolas wished Ollie could stay with them. He was having fun hearing him talk about the city and was fascinated by the luxury of ice. The man who'd interrupted— apparently the Seneschal — gave him the creeps. Still, having an idea of his importance, Mykolas stood from his chair and offered a bow of the head, like Tokiel had taught him, before shaking the Seneschal's hand. \n\n\"Not'tall,\" Said Mykolas as he shook Silas's hand. His father had always taught him to shake firmly, but Mykolas was afraid he might break Silas's thin bones if he squeezed too tightly. \"A'm Mykolas-Reed Lanterns, an' this is Tokiel-Brynn Andis, m'sword.\"\n\nHe hoped the Seneschal would allow him to take what was left of his glass of ice with him, but knowing adults, it'd probably be considered improper. Tokiel was already standing, luggage in hand, his own glass emptied and left on the table."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n \nHer brows rose in surprise when he revealed his real name. It was the last thing expected. She wondered what relation he had to Valkrin, though from the look of his age she had a suspicion. \"I'm guessing you're one of his bastards then. The man must really love spreading his seed.\" \n \nShe couldn't help the grin that stretched her cheeks, finding this new information more amusing to her than informative. She shook her head lightly from the humour she felt before releasing a delighted sigh before relaxing her posture as she sunk into the backrest of her chair. Her eyes trailed away from Herin and began to glide over the men in the tavern with them when Herin spoke his next question with the grin remaining on her lips. \n \n\"It could be one of two reasons,\" She began, returning her gaze on Herin. \"Either they're mad because a few of their friends happened to disappear after talking to me and they think I'm the cause of it. They are right but I'm not going to admit it to them, that ruins the fun. She looked to enjoy revealing this information by the grin that remained stained on her features. \"Or they're cautious because I happen to be a shifter with a temperament.\" \n \nThinking of her next question, her eyes remained on Herin. \"What would happen if people found out about your real identity? From what I've gathered, you're not exactly loyal to Bradai.\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Herin fell silent as she spoke, his mind racing to put together all the pieces. He maintained a poker face as best he could, but he had to take a sip of his drink to conceal the turmoil brewing inside his head. \nThe first thing he had learned was that this woman was most likely an agent of Maith. The way she spoke about his father, it was... More familiar than the way Tam or others had spoken about him, of course it could just be an attitude difference, but it seemed deeper than that. The way she looked him over, like she was looking for similarities. Herin wondered how much he reassembled the man. \n\nBut it was her answer to his question that truly took him off guard. He already knew that she was a killer, or at least suspected it, but a shifter? He had heard legends, tales of people who could turn into animals during the full moon, or was it when they drank virgin blood? He thought they were just stories though, tall tales like the fishermen who swore they saw Livyatans off the coast of the southernmost isles. Was it true that shifters could only be harmed by silver? He had a few silver coins on him, but he doubted that would work, and it was too late to back out now...\n\nHe took a deep breath and considered her question. \"I doubt anyone would recognize my name if you told them, well they might recognize my last name, but certainly not because of me. And in a place like this... Well i'd bet good money the only one loyal to Bradai Maith is you.\" He wasn't sure she was loyal to Maith, but the accusation might provoke an asnwer. Now for his question, it was a gamble that it would be worthwhile, but the way she talked about his father... This whole trip had been dominated by that man's shadow, he needed to know more. \"Answer me this, how do you know Valkrin Farensun?\" He said in a matter of fact voice, as if he knew for certain she had met the man, hopefully she did, he'd certainly look the fool if his assumption was wrong."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah\nThe Stilts\n \nThe mentioning of her being loyal to Bradai caused her to snicker, for if she were truly loyal, the man in front of her would have been digging himself a whole the further he spoke. Fortunately for Herin, she was simply under his 'protection'. Her position with Maith confused her, however she wasn't one to question it when it was her safety against the paladins at risk. \"I don't know too much about him, he isn't exactly someone who talks often about himself and I don't make a habit of prying into people's personal lives.\" \n \nShe eyed the pitcher in front of her for a split moment before returning her gaze to his. \"But I've fought with him a few times, and maybe against. I tend to lose track of each person I've tried to kill but I don't think he was one of them. He's a good man to banter with though. I guess you two are similar when it comes to a conversation.\" It made sense as to why he was yet to bore or anger her. \n \n\"What are your thoughts on Maith?\" She watched him carefully now. Eyeing even the smallest movements he could make in response to her question. Her gaze bore into his with intensity. Even though the tone of her voice sounded serious, her relaxed posture revealed it as an intimidation tactic. The more nervous someone was, the easier they gave their lies away."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov\nThe Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper\n\nWhen the boy shook his hand, Silas took it firmly in his own. While his skin was soft and he smelt of rose-water, there was a deceiving amount of wiry strength behind his grip. Even still, his grasp was gentle enough not to offend the little lord. Mykolas-Reed was less sickly than his sister had described. The King, doubtless, would like that. \n\n\"I know who you are, Lord Lanterns. We have been expecting you for some time. The King is just finishing up his breakfast. He's met with a few pirate captains and he should be—\" \n\nSilas dropped the boy's hand when he saw Tokiel begin to pick up luggage. \"Oh no, there's no need for that,\" He raised his free hand and snapped twice. Suddenly, there were servants in tow to take their luggage. \"Give these two adjoining rooms in the western wing, with view of the harbor.\" He had been told that Mykolas had just begun to sail. It would be good to put him in view of what remained of the King's fleet. \n\n\"Surely you both must be famished from your trek up along the river. Should we see if the King is still enjoying his breakfast?\""
}
] | 282 | 4,038 |
378.75 | 2022-06-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "mrcabbages",
"message": "Lord Mykolas-Reed Lanterns\nThe Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper \n\nTokiel looked immediately alarmed by the servant who came to take the bag from him, but apparently he realized it would be rude to refuse the service. He hesitated but reluctantly handed the bag over, offering a tense 'thank you' in return. \n\n\"Righ' now?\" Mykolas said, also alarmed. All of the anxiety over the meeting with the king suddenly welled up in him again. He'd been so distracted by the mules and the Rettyreeds and the ice that he'd almost forgotten the reason they were there to begin with. Suddenly it felt like everything was happening impossibly fast. He looked to Tokiel, who nodded back assuringly. \"Uh... I'd be hon'red to,\" He said, though his voice was not as certain as his words. \n\nTokiel handed his scabbard to the other servant, as well as the knife out of his boot. And though no one asked, he also lifted the hem of his shirt to show there were no other blades tucked into his belt or under his arms. The two then followed the Seneschal to the king's breakfast balcony, unsure what to expect."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n She snickered at the mention of her loyalty to Bradai. He smiled at that reaction, good, that meant they had some common ground at least. Her answer to his question was... Something else though. She knew his father? Truly knew him? Not like Tam and those fools at the other tavern who served under him and saw him as some fucking pillar of strength, she actually knew him, talked with him, it was... Unexpected. Part of him wanted to press her about that connection, but then he heard her question and his mind snapped back to attention. \n\nHe considered what he knew about her. She was a shifter, apparently, that was actually more believable the more Herin thought about it. True, up until this point he assumed shifters were as real as fairies and giants, but considering he had a monster of Northwind legend living in his basement, his acceptance for previously unbelievable occurrences had grown much higher. He still wasn't sure of her loyalties, she didn't seem loyal to Maith, so perhaps a forgein agent? Or maybe she was just leading him on, trying to get more information out of him before pouncing. Herin sighed, and reached for his drink. \n\nWhen he put it down, the flaggon was empty. Taking a drink avoided the question, true, but if she read between the lines, it was probably easy enough to guess that he didn't have a positive view of the man. But she couldn't be sure of anything, and if she really was a spy for Maith then hopefully that was enough to keep this little game going. Wiping the last remains of the drink off his mouth with his shirtsleeve, he considered his own question. The idea came to him quickly, it was actually quite obvious. \n\"I return the question, what do you think about our illustrious ruler?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah\nThe Stilts\n \nIt was obvious this man did not see Bradai as someone who belonged on a pedestal, having already told her his plans of 'land acquisition' which she knew better of. The shifter simply wanted to see if he would finally attempt his chance at lying to her so when he took a drink and avoided the question asked, Cecilia felt disappointed. She knew it would have been fair if she was to take another drink as he had done with the same question, yet instead she chose to answer. She didn't fear others finding out about her true feelings towards the Pirate King, considering they were widely known among his loyal subjects. So it didn't affect her in the slightest if Herin was to find out the truth. \n \n\"Honestly? I wouldn't mourne him if something were to suddenly happen that resulted in his death.\" She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders as she spoke before bringing her arms to rest across her chest. \"He has a constant branch lodged in his asshole and I personally think he is incredibly selfish. I don't have many good thoughts about him. He's smart though, I will give him that as he always happens to be two steps ahead of anyone planning against him.\" \n \nShe knew Herin would be smart enough to read the warning between the lines of her last comment about Maith. It was the truth from Cecilia's perspective as she was yet to come across someone who was able to outsmart the man. Now one question lingered in her mind as he had managed to avoid saying it directly. She understood why, considering they were seen as absolute filth and constantly rooted out by Bradai's men. From her previous visits, she had been witnessed to a routine checkup of this tavern for its tendency to serve unlawful men. \n \n\"You said you were like most men here. That could be anything from a murderer to a drunk so Im curious. What type of Pirate are you?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\nHe audibly chuckled at her description of Maith. He had hated the man from afar for so long, assigning him the worst traits he could think of, less like a man and more like some cunning, evil beast. So to hear him described as having a \"Branch lodged in his asshole\" Was, well, unexpected, yet not unenjoyable. As for being clever, well Herin had assumed the man wasn't a complete dolt, you didn't unify the isles and build a city like Tonate proper without being smarter than most. Herin could find many faults with Maith, but a lack of intelligence and drive were not among them. Of course, everyone else who had tried to take the throne from Maith was either an upjumped lord who detested the new status quo or a foreign force who thought that somehow a united isles would be easy prey. Every challenger to the throne had fought on Maith's terms, in his arena. Herin wasn't planning on making that mistake. Her question, then, was rather simply answered. \n\n\"That's a serious question\" He said after a short pause. \"The rest of the men here, all the others in the isles, they're all the same deep down. They're kill and they steal because they're too incompetent or lazy to do anything else. It's far easier to kill a man and take his fish than learn how to catch them yourself, after all.\" As Herin began to speak, he realized something that was rather frightening to him, he was being honest. \"But deep down, they all know they don't deserve any of it, they know they're worthless, stealing from their betters.\" If any of the other men in the tavern heard him, they didn't show it, all too engrossed in their own conversations to listen to Herin insult their profession. \"That's the difference between me and them, I do deserve it. Everything I take, everything I steal, I deserve all of it, it should be mine, and the fact that it wasn't already is an error I'm simply correcting. You asked what kind of pirate I am? The answer's simple, the best one.\""
}
] | 397 | 1,515 |
283.625 | 2022-06-21 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia lyanah\nThe stilts \n \nShe fought the urge to roll her eyes towards his response, were all pirates so egotistical? From the many she has met, Cecilia felt she could confidentially answer her question with a yes. The shifter rose from her slouched positioning and uncrossed her arms from her lap before reaching for one of the tankards and took a sip. It wasn't that she needed a drink, but more to hide the sly smile beneath the metal cup. \n \n\"I didn't realise that question would get such a rise out of you.\" Cecilia chuckled and brought the pitcher back to the table. As she looked towards him in a silent judgmental manner, she waited for him to continue the game which he failed to do. \"It's your turn by the way.\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n Her chuckle brought Herin back to reality. He didn't expect the question would get such a rise out of him either, he wasn't usually that... Open with his feelings. Maybe it was the ale, or maybe it was just something about this whole trip. He was right in the heart of his enemies stronghold, and he never felt more vulnerable, in more ways than one. Learning about his father, and now apparently himself, it was not what he expected from this trip. \n\nHe hadn't even asked his question, he was almost embarrassed, though he didn't let it show. Well, if he was to gain something from this, then perhaps he would explore a new line of questioning. \n\"How well would you say you know Bradai Maith?\" Herin asked, leaning back in his chair, re-asserting himself."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts \n \n\"Wouldn't you like to know?\" She teased. The shifter may as well have kept her hold on the pitcher with his next question as she brought it back to her lips and downed the rest of the contents inside. It wasn't that she feared answering his question, it was more due to her not knowing how to answer. Once she finished, she reached over to place the empty pitcher with her last one. As the alcohol began to settle into her system, Cecilia felt pleased with herself for her body's ability to soak it up without having an ounce of affect on her. If it hadn't been for her insanely high tolerance, she would have felt it by now. \n \n\"What did Bradai do to you for you to hate him so much?\" She questioned while keeping her fingers wrapped around the sides of the tankard, enjoying the coolness it provided. \"I mean, I could probably list off many reasons for someone to have such strong feelings against him but what is yours?\" \n \nThis one question she was genuinely interested in and wanted to know more of, so it would be a disappointment if he chose not to answer. Perhaps she could get it out of him when his inhibition has lowered from the alcohol, if the game lasted that long."
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n She avoided the question, which honestly surprised Herin. She had referred to him in such a casual manner before... Perhaps she was afraid of revealing too much. The relationship she seemed to have with Maith reminded him of something. When he was a child in karst, there was a feral cat that lived by the docks. It killed the rats that came to feed on the goods stored by the warehouse, and in return the dockworkers let it shelter in the building, but they never tried to pet it. Herin tried once, and got a bite on the hand for his trouble, something told him Cecilia was very much like that cat. She might enjoy the perks of living in Maith's graces, but she didn't seem the kind to let someone put a leash on her. \n\nHer question was a personal one, Herin's face darkened when she asked it. He was loath to discuss any more personal matters with her tonight, and reached for his drink, then stopped himself. Perhaps there was an opportunity provided to him here. \n\"I have a proposal for you, if it piques your interest. I'll answer that question, and whatever others you might have, provided you do something for me.\" He took a casual sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair and keeping one hand on the mug. \"I want you to deliver a message to Bradai Maith for me.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nThe Stilts \n \nAs she had expected, disappointment began to settle in when he reached for his drink. She was temporarily shocked at his sudden alter in persona as the mood surrounding him hrew dark. She had hit a nerve. Cecilia couldn't help but grow more curious towards his sudden change in behaviour, wanting to know what had resulted in his hatred for the Pirate King. Her brows furrowed as she watched him closely, reaching for his drink before halting in his movements to instead look towards her. When he casually began to sip his drink, the shifter wondered what thoughts were playing on the man's mind. Fortunately he didn't leave her in the dark for long when he brought up a request for the shifter in exchange for his answer. \n \n\"That's not how the game works.\" She spoke in a teasing tone, before an amused sigh escaped her. \"But I'll play along.\" Cecilia shifted her body so she was now leaning over the table, resting against on arms. When she went to speak, her voice had been lowered so any prying ears would be unable to listen in on the two. \"What do you want to tell him?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n \"True, I'm changing the rules a bit.\" Herein admitted, shrugging his shoulders. \"But I am a pirate, after all, we aren't known for playing by the rules.\" Herein stood up from the table, grabbing a napkin from the bar, along with a charcoal nub, and sat back down. \n\"It isn't a message in the traditional sense, more of a... Surprise gift.\" \nAs he spoke, he began to draw on the napkin with the charcoal, carefully marking the yellowed piece of cloth until he had drawn a strange symbol, but one anyone with knowledge of scags and current events would be familiar with, the symbol of the Hanged Raiders. \n\nHerin slid the napkin across the table, over to Cecilia, gesturing for her to take it. \n\"If you can, I want you to place this somewhere our king will find it. The closer to home the better really, perhaps in his bed, or on his throne. Somewhere he feels safe, really. Oh, and I don't want to state the obvious, but it'd be best if no one knew you put it there.\" It was almost immature, really, doing this. Herin had no way of actually reaching Maith in his home, not yet, but if Cecilia delivered his message, then Maith would think he could. It would send a message regardless, Maith thought he was untouchable buried inside his little stone fortress, but all he had done was construct an elaborate tomb for himself."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah\nThe Stilts\n\nShe watched with silent curiosity as her gaze followed Hern as he made his way from their table to gather a couple supplies before returning. When he began drawing, fine lines formed on the crease between her brows, having expected a note or a letter. She didn't understand what the symbol meant or what it was supposed to achieve. Cecilia never kept herself informed with politics or anything that didn't involve herself so it was safe to assume she remained unaware of the events that may follow if she were to complete his request. \n\nShe took the napkin from the table and folded it four ways before slipping it beneath the makeshift belt that held her tunic by her waist. She lacked any pockets and the only pouch that she had tied to her was filled with coins so beneath her belt was the next safest place she could store it while keeping it hidden. \n\nThe instructions he provided her revealed his further intentions to the shifter, understanding the fear Herin hoped to place on the pirate King. She had conflicting feelings on what she was to do with the information. Cecilia knew it wasn't the smartest idea and she would surely get caught. The shifter had barely escaped the eyes of his poppies when making her way to the stilts and his estate was one of the hardest to sneak around in, however the thought of messing around with Bradai was too good of a chance to miss. Just thinking about it caused a grin to form on her lips. \n\n\"Fine, I'll do this. Now tell me, what did he do for you to hate him so much?\""
},
{
"author": "beegcatfish",
"message": "Herin Farensun\nThe Stilts, Tonate Proper\n\n To be honest, Herin had doubted she would accept the deal at all. She still could just throw his message out as soon as he left, regardless of what he told her, but she hadn't lied so far, at least she seemed to have been honest with him. He took a long drink from his mug, then leaned forward, that brooding look in his eyes returned. \n\"Bradai Maith took everything from me.\" Part of him wanted to leave it there, he had answered the question, albeit vaguely, but he doubted that answer would convince her to deliver the message, so he continued on. \n\n\"For one solitary, blissful moment in time, I had found peace, a place in the world that felt like mine, and he destroyed it. Not personally of course, he doesn't even know I exist... And somehow that made it worse.\" Herin gritted his teeth, the images flashing through his mind. He had replayed that scene in his head for years, the boats burning, the black flag of House Maith raised above the smoldering wreckage of his home. \"I was nothing, just another nobody standing in the way of his vision, everything I held dear was destroyed because it was fucking *Inconvenient* To him. He has everything, a kingdom, wealth, a personal fucking harem of noble-born whores-\" *And my father* Herin thought for a moment, before casting the thought out of his mind. \"And he still decided what little I had was a threat. So you want to know why I hate Bradai Maith? Because he's a paranoid, greedy, sickly old corpse sitting in a golden tower, and he ruined me without even knowing my name. So I'm going to carve it into his flesh before I kill him.\" \nHerin leaned back in his chair, his anger seemingly subsided. He finished the rest of his mug, slamming it down on the table once it was empty. He looked almost tired, a tiredness behind his eyes that hadn't been there before. \"Any more questions?\""
}
] | 285 | 2,269 |
361 | 2022-08-25 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "gmacarthurr",
"message": "Shipsman Orwen Windrow | Onboard the \"Vesper \"\n\nHe stood firm on the bow of the ship, confident that his men behind him were fast and efficient in their duties bringing the ship into port. The sun roasted elder belched out his working calls, and the men called back rhythmically in their labor. The sound brought him great comfort. It was one of the welcome feelings that only sailors knew. \n\nAs he surveyed the coastline, He felt watched. Turning his head, he saw her. A red figure bobbing in the water, not far from the shore near the temple. Yet she was farther from shore than the rest of the throng that waited behind. \n\nSilently, he touched the hand of his lame arm to his breast, which took much effort and discomfort for him, and raised the other, open palm towards her. He was not a very religious man, no more than the superstitions every sailor held, yet he knew a visit to the tide bearers temple was well overdue. \n\nLetting his hands fall, he grunted a sigh of relief. His one arm was mostly useless, but he could still force it to do some things. He rolled his shoulder a bit, trying to work out the pain for the moment. It would subside, it always did. \n\nThe ship slowed as the crew hoisted the sails up into their place, and expertly pulled the long vessel up to one of the open Deepwater docks that protruded from the cities shoreline."
},
{
"author": "sweet_sleem",
"message": "Ollie\nThe Temple of the Tides, Tonate Proper\n\nHe bristled. \n\n\"I am a faithful servant of his Grace, yes,\" He cleared his throat and looked around at the group of priests, \"As are we _all,_\"\n\nHe believed in the Tides Barer the same way he believed in the sun or the waves. He was real, yes, but he could not save you. He had lived and he has died, and it was possible that a man was just a man and a whale was just a whale. In their own temples they could talk of treason, but not here, not behind the walls of Tonate Proper. \n\n\"At any rate, no. I am not here to worship,\" _you,_ he could have added, but held his tongue, \"The King sends his regards, but unless you would like to meet him at his estate, he is occupied with other royal matters. He does apologize, and he does recognize that he has been absent from these meetings before, but he extends his hospitality to you and yours, should you want to join him for dinner on the hill.\" \n\nA hollow gesture said with a polite smile. Just as the King was no fan of the priests, the priests were no fan of him. Whereas the Tides Barers of ages past were warlike and vengeful, Bradai Maith's rule had been mostly peaceful, more interested in trade than terror. \n\n\"If that suits _you_, of course,\" He leaned in at Tethys. Surely she should reject the offer and they both go about on their way."
},
{
"author": "bridge_4792",
"message": "***Tethys\nOutside the Temple of Tides***\n\nThe man on the ship's response, a small wave of an arm that seemed almost pained, brought a tiny smile to Tethys' lips before she turned away. No doubt the sailor would come to the Temple - the Tide had brought them in so surely it would finish returning them to the heart of the Tide-Bearer's temple. Nonetheless, she turned slightly back toward Ollie - her mirthful sea-glass green eyes only growing starry with amusement at the man's crumbling composure,\" Oh yes, we're all King Bradai's boys. Some are just closer to him than others; such as yourself, Kingsman.\" \n \nCrossing her arms over her breast as she listened to the invitation, the Leviathan Orphan's eyes flickering toward the rolling tropical hills just behind the city where the King likely sat in the shade of a large-leafed palm. Her bright grin faded somewhat in thought whilst her gaze shifted toward the temple. By now, several red-blue-green robed holyfolk had begun to slowly filter through its great columns - still clearly searching for *Something*. It was the perfect opportunity to escape.\n\n\" Well *Of course* I'd love to meet Bradai-\" Tethys all but swooned dramatically, focusing back on Ollie as she gestured toward the port they would no doubt have to mount to reach their destination,\"- for supper and productive conversation of course.\" And before the poor, unfortunate Kingsman could argue... The young woman had set off across the sand toward the pier, white sand clinging to her feet and calves as she left a trail of silvery droplets of water. The confidence with which she strode was that of an individual untethered by extensive consideration, not thoughtfulness; no it was the stride of one very much about to meet the King... Whether he liked it or not.\n \nThus, if Ollie kept up with the young woman, they would soon be mounting the creaking wooden stairs from the beach onto the bustling pier - all manner of folk wandered here, carrying cargo or navigating the chaos. They had mounted the pier not far from the landed *Vesper* - the Whale-Child's focused gaze flickering to the newly arrived ship and ultimately changing direction rather abruptly toward it instead. After navigating the chaotic tug-of-war to the base of the *Vesper's* Gangplan, the red-robed woman paused and raised a hand in greeting to the arriving sailors... As if the appointment with the King had been forgotten, but more than likely having expected poor Ollie to follow in her wake.\n \n\" The Tides brought you in friends! Welcome, welcome!\""
},
{
"author": "gmacarthurr",
"message": "Shipsman Orwen Windrow | Vesper Mooring\n\nAs the men disembarked the ship. They gave the expected reverence to the woman who greeted them. All knew her as the whale child, the obsession of the monks of the Temple of the tide bearer. Unlike the sailors around them from other vessels, these men disembarked their vessel and began to form a rough line to one side of the narrow plank connecting the ship to the pier. \n\nEach man in line seemed to wait, many wore no shoes and sported hard, calloused feet and hands from days at sea of hard labor. \n\nAfter a brief moment, what they were waiting for was made apparent when Orwen began his slow descent from the ship. His lame arm hung freely beside him, his one good foot stamped heavily against the wood. When he was firmly on the peir, the sailors scattered from their waiting and off in a dozen directions, whooping and carrying on the way sailors in port often did.\n\nOrwen turned to meet her, bending only slightly in a sign of respect. \n\"Miss'ress, you need no have come all de way from tha temple to 'ave met we\" His smile was warm, a contrast to his gruff, scarred and sun beaten face."
}
] | 316.5 | 1,444 |
304 | 2022-12-12 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nTonate Proper, Southern Isles**\n\nLike usual, the sun in Tonate Proper was plentiful and borderline obnoxious. Galt-Drake hated the tropical sunlight, except when he was out at sea. At least when one was on the waves, they could feel a stiff ocean breeze which would cool them from the agony of the midday sun. Today, though, the temperature was far cooler, and so the effects of the beaming sun were drastically reduced. Thus, Galt-Drake found himself walking out in the open in Tonate Proper, as opposed to slinking through alleyways. Unlike most Islanders, Galt-Drake could only tan to a degree, and was more vulnerable to sunburn due to his lighter skin. With the temperatures being so cool now, he could actually enjoy the city itself.\n\nAs Galt-Drake walked about Tonate Proper, inspecting the people and guards, he found himself straying near the gates. At this point, he was wandering without much of a goal in mind, so he figured he would just go where the winds took him. It was an off day for himself and his crews anyway, so why not enjoy it at his own pace? Galt-Drake walked out of the gates and a bit away from it, but his eyes caught wind of something: A sickly boy with a pet snake. Was this that Puckgordon lad Silas seemed to care so much about? Galt-Drake approached with his usual youthful, privateering swagger, for it was ingrained in his psyche to do so.\n\n\"What's a lad like yerself doin' all alone out in the sun here?\" Galt-Drake inquired of the boy, before commenting, \"Ye look like ye'll drop any damn second now!\""
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon Snæch \nTonate Proper\n\nPuck had his eyes closed, and opened one when he was unabashedly spoken to. He lifted his head up slowly, looking at the man who addressed him.\n\n\"Aye? Here's to hoping...\" He cracked half a smile as he stayed slouched in the chair that was brought out for him. \n\n\"Sun's supposed to heal me or some witch-fuckery now... Er... Sorcery...\" He weakly put it, tilting his head to the side like a weakened baby bird. \"What are *You* Doing?\" He asked back, the snake coiling around its master like a loose, shiny scarf."
},
{
"author": "seamusmcandrews",
"message": "**Galt-Drake Geare\nTonate Proper, Southern Isles**\n\nGalt-Drake quirked a brow characteristically at the boy's rather morbid, but somewhat silly and humorous, way of going about his obvious sickness. The lad even mentioned sorcery, through the use of the sun. To Galt-Drake, though, the sun providing greater mood boosts and health was no magic, but just the way nature worked. It was pretty known in the inner circles of Tonate Proper that Silas was quite the magic-man, but Galt-Drake doubted heavily that sunbathing was part of that. The privateer took particular notice of the snake, but was not unnerved by it in the slightest.\n\nGalt-Drake answered Puck, \"Oh, me? Just walking. It's an offday for me and me crew. Figured I'd enjoy it me own way. As fer yer... Witch-fuckery... Sunbathing ain't no sorcery I've heard of, lad. It's only healthy, and Silas is wise to have ye do it as part of yer healing. Yer just as wise for following it. Ye'd think more of the stinkin' bastards inhabiting this rotten heap of a city would do it, and take a bath in the lakes and rivers to boot.\"\n\nAfter a moment of inspection, Galt-Drake remembered the boy further, and in greater detail. He'd seen the lad skulking around the halls during the Skagerlly trial. The boy was sneaky, that could not be doubted. In Puck, Galt-Drake saw... Potential, perhaps?\n\nGalt-Drake inquired of Puck, \"Tell me, lad, what does Silas have ye do when yer actually healthy? Does he train ye? Teach ye anything? Or are ye simply left to sneak about unseen?\""
},
{
"author": "munchy_",
"message": "Puckgordon Snæch \nTonate Proper\n\nPuck looked the man up and down. How did this guy know *Silas*? The boy knew better than to expect Silas to leave him unstalked by a poppy or two in his weakened state, and so he expected that this fellow that had struck up conversation wasn't a part of any plan.\n\nHe sat up in his chair a little and rubbed the back of his neck, damp with sweat from the tropical humidity. \"I'm a ward of King Bradai.\" He stated plainly. \"From Melsoh...\" It would explain his pale blue eyes and alabaster complexion, and perhaps even his rather natural sneakiness. Although it seemed that Puckgordon was set apart from the natural Melsi or Taemish appearance by a mop of raven black hair, ...As dark as Silas's.\n\n \"I just do what they tell me to. Some reason or the other I...\" He sulked a little, \"I am of value. Couldn't tell you why, but I'm just around for... Whatever they need.\" He tilted his head to the other side now, staring up at Galt-Drake with curiosity, now.\n\n\"I obviously wasn't unseen if you've seen me, yeah? How do you know Silas? S'There something you want? Hate to break it to you, milord, you've better luck giving the request to that drunken bastard in the ditch over there.\""
}
] | 341 | 1,216 |
229.636364 | 2024-01-17 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "**Cecilia Lyanah\nTonate Proper, Valkrin's Estate** \n\nIn the past few weeks, Cecilia had been the most laziest she has ever felt. Not many people have managed to piss off or annoy the shifter during her times in the isles. It was a record for Cecilia, not being the cause of trouble in a while. In fact, it would have been a record regarding her addiction to death and sending others to it. Even though it was nice not having to watch over her shoulder every second, fearing some assassin or bounty hunter attempting at her life, Cecilia couldn't help but feel endless boredom. She needed the adrenaline, something to keep her excited and wanting more. It would explain her joy towards the punishment she faced during the council on the mainland. \n\nNether-less, Cecilia was bored. She enjoyed her time with Puck and witnessing his ruthless bloodthirsty nature. Other than that, there has been no entertainment. Even the tavern fights she involved herself in wasn't enough to keep her entertained. She needed more. Who else did she know in the isles that could potentially entertain her? It took a few moments of thinking before the realisation came. Val.\n\nShe felt like an idiot, not having thought of him earlier. Hell, she could probably spend her time on the isles with him whether he liked it or not. Not like she'd give him a choice, he'll simply have to deal with her presence. She didn't need any direction towards Valkrin's estate. She had spent enough time on the isles to know the location of almost everything and everyone. Unlike the mainland, The Isles was a lot easier to navigate. \n\nRather than shifting, Cecilia decided to take a nice stroll in her human form towards Val's estate, embracing the calm wind. The journey was short but satisfying in the sense that Cecilia was unbothered by a single person. She wore a simple grey tunic with the Maith house colours embroidered , a black cloak and black trousers with multiple stitches from recovered tears as she strolled towards the Valkrin Estate. As she was to enter, a couple of men covered in armour prevented her from passing the gates by stepping in her way and drawing their weapons. \n\nShe felt her shoulders drop in annoyance. Cecilia thought about her following actions and for the first time in her entire existence, thought about the possible outcome of her actions. She could easily overtake the men in front of her but then she would have to deal the the repercussions of doing so, potentially landing her in trouble. Or, she could find an alternate way that didn't involve injury or death. Deciding the latter, Cecilia first gave the name she was known by to no avail. They simply refused to allow her to enter. She could perhaps request they let Valkrin know of her presence, but she felt she was above that. Instead, she decided to meet her options half way.\n\nHer eyes were the first to change as they merged from their original muddy brown to a vibrant blue. Her jaw cracked as her human teeth sharpened into canines, widening while her face became slightly deformed in a mixture of wolf and human features. The men looked on in silence with widened eyes and dropped jaws, their weapons slacking by their sides as they allow her to enter, as if they had been warned previously about her existence. \n\nWith a grin, Cecilia felt a weird not having to murder or cause destruction in order to get her way and made her way past the foyer. *Vaaaaaaal, where are youuuuu? * She sang in her head."
},
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nThe familiar feeling of Cecilia's call nagged at the back of Valkrin's mind, like an itch behind the eyes. \n\n*Are you in my fucking house, Ceci?*\n\nShe'd taught him long ago of how shifters could communicate through thought, though it'd taken a few years to become thoroughly aware of when she was attempting to reach him. The captain was in the courtyard pruning his hibiscus trees when the shifter called out to him, and informed her of how to reach him. \n\n\"Might as well just get a damn key made for you, if you're just going to waltz in here unannounced\" He shouted as footsteps could be heard approaching him."
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "**Cecilia Lyanah**\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nHe didn't really need to shout as she found herself walking closer towards him, grinning from ear to ear. She made her way into the courtyard nonchelatnly, like she didn't have a care in the world. She always enjoyed her little interactions with the captain, feeling as if she could be herself without the worry of hiding her impulsive and sometimes cruel behaviour. She waited until she was close enough for the old man to hear before she replied. \n\n\"What? Did you expect me to send a letter to inform my arrival?\" She asked incredelously with a raised brow. \"I fly three times faster than pigeon. It would be here hours after my arrival so I thought fuck it, and here I am!\""
},
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\n\"You just woke up and decided to come pester me for no reason other than boredom?\" Valkrin sighed, sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the courtyard. This was one of his oldest friends, a term he used very loosely, and over the years he'd grown quite fond of the woman. \n\nValkrin called for food and wine to be brought to the pair, if she was going to stay, she might as well be fed. \n\n\"As you well know, a letter wouldn't have done any good.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\n\"Yeah, pretty much.\" She shrugged as she sat down in the chair opposite to him and crossed her legs, making herself comfortable. \"And exactly. So why bother?\" \n\nShe eyed over Valkrin features, aged by both the island's blistering sun mixed with the salted winds of the sea and the years he's lived. After a quick observation of the Captain, the shifter leaned back into the lounge chair and looked towards the sky in thought. \n\n\"I think I'm getting tired of running and having to watch my back every second.\""
},
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\nValkrin chuckled a bit at her last comment, taking a cigar from the case in his pocket and lighting it. \"You're not the only one but be careful, the longer you a stay in one place, the harder it gets to leave.\" He remembered his days of running from the Terreme Navy, after every escape he'd stay awake for days, waiting in case of attack. \n\n\"I guess it all depends on what you plan to do about it, stay in one place and settle, or continue running until even the gods couldn't find you.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nThe corner of her lips lowered at the thought of staying in one place. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the thought of not having to live in a daily survival mode, it was the realisation that hit when she struggled to remember how it felt living in peace. She simply couldn't. She hadn't felt peace since she was a child. \"That's the thing. I don't know what I would do with it.\" \n\nShe sat momentarily in silence, listening to the peaceful atmosphere around them. \"I've tried to settle down and simply live my life without fear but I always end up fucking it up before I can even experience it.\" She sighed heavily. \"It's like the moment I feel myself in a place where I can finally relax and feel like I belong, I instantly have to do something to fuck it up. Especially when it comes to my emotions getting the best of me.\""
},
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate Tonate Proper \n\nBetween puffs of the cigar, Valkrin sat up and poured himself some wine. \"Well that's easy\" He said, taking a long sip, \"Simply stop fucking things up.\" He laughed, then stood and continued pruning the hibiscus. \n\n\"There's room in the Isles for you, hell you could even stay here. There's more rooms in this place than I can count, and I'm sure Miss Tanner wouldn't mind company that isn't myself or the servants.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nHer eyes narrowed as they followed Valkrin, glaring playfully in response to his comment. Then a thought crossed her mind. \"Sure, when you stop aging.\" \n\nShe thought about his offer as she remained sitting, her body taking its moment to soften from the stress she's been dealing with. The poppies would most likely leave her alone if she were to remain here, but she couldn't remember whether or not she's met Miss Tanner before. \"Have I met this Miss Tanner?\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\n*A young Catarina sat shivering in the creek. She was 4? Maybe 5 years old? It was the tail end of summer, when the days were hot and nights were chilly, leaving the creek's water, which flowed down from the mountains high above, frigid. Welcome in the heat of the day, but chilly as day turned to evening. Her mother stood behind her, rag in one hand and a bar of lye soap in the other, scrubbing away a day's worth of play. *\n*\"You know,\" Cat's mother said, \"If your left ear is itching, someone is speaking evil of you. If the right ear is itching, it's a sign someone is speaking well of you.\" *\n*Cat's eyes widened with childlike wonder, still young enough to believe every word spoken by her mother, as she exclaimed, \"But mama, both my ears have been itching today!\"*\n*Her mother leaned around her, a bit of mirth appearing in her expression.*\n*\"Aye, I noticed,\" She responded. \"You know what that means?\"*\n*\"What?\" Little Cat asked incredulously.*\n*\"It means you ain't scrubbed your ears, you little twit!\"*\n\nCat smiled fondly at the memory as she scratched the back of her right ear for a moment, the bangles jangling softly about her wrist from the movement. She knew nothing of the guest that had come to visit Val, but she had heard the staff flitting about and chittering amongst themselves to prepare some food, so she took it upon herself, as the lady of the house, to be a good hostess. Besides, even after all these years, food had an incredible hold on her. Too many years not knowing where the next meal would come from.\n\nShe strode towards the courtyard, pilfering a tray of fruit from one of the servants to present to the guest herself, though she did sneak a few pieces off of it on the remainder of her walk. She entered the courtyard just as the pair spoke of her, and interrupted with, \"No, I don't believe we have met.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia lyanah \nFarensun Estate\n\nWhen she heard the female voice, the shifter turned her gaze towards a woman she did not recognise by scent or face. Not that it would matter much if she did, since she barely remembered the scent or faces of those who meant nothing to the shifter. \n\nCecilia lifted herself up so she was no longer lounging but sitting up straight. She did a quick observation of the woman that neared her before looking towards Val then back towards the woman holding the tray of fruit. The shifter stood and reached her hand out for the woman to shake, unsure on how to introduce herself properly but kept her behaviour in favour of the old man. \"It's probably a good thing we haven't met, I'm Cecilia.\" \n\n*Is she a lover or..?* She mentally questioned Val. She didn't see him as the romantic type but people continued to surprise her."
}
] | 161 | 2,526 |
106.666667 | 2024-01-19 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nCecilia smiled at Catarina, finding herself slightly intrigued by this woman with the way she presented herself. Though they had only just met, she sensed a something different in Catarina. She wasn't annoying for Cecilia as of yet, though they have only just met. \n\nCecilia nodded politely, still studying the other woman. There was an air of confidence, almost arrogance, in the way Catarina carried herself. She turned to Val. \n\n*She seems alright.* She wasn't much of a human person, but she would make the exception for Valkrin. *How did the two of you meet?* \n\nShe wasn't attempting to be kind, the Shifter was attempting to gather information about this woman."
},
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\n*That's a tale for another time.*\n\nValkrin continued to puff on his cigar as the trio spoke. \"Shifters are able to communicate through the mind Catarina, it's useful, but annoying at times.\" \n\nHe shifted his gaze to Cecilia, lazily turning his head as he did so, \"If you've got questions for her, ask her. I'm not your middleman.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate. \n\nVal's comment caused her to narrow her eyes in annoyance, before shifting her gaze towards Catarina. \n\n\"It's something I do without thinking,\" She explained with a shrug."
}
] | 101 | 320 |
148.875 | 2024-01-20 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nCat's eyes widened for a moment when Val revealed that Cecilia was a shifter, though she quickly corrected that and tried to keep her expression largely impassive. There were so many thoughts though! A shifter? Incredibly rare, these days. And weren't those things dangerous? There had been many a night where, sitting around a campfire, she had been told stories of shifters morphing into various beings to lure away children to their deaths! And then to know that shifters can communicate through the mind? A bit of a terrifying thought... \n\nShe did her best to hide this turmoil though, continuing to exude an air of calm arrogance. She was, after all, practically the queen of this little piece of the Isles.\n\n\"I've often thought such a skill would be useful,\" She said. \"He's got such a thick skull that sometimes I think that's the only way I could get through to him.\" She smirked a bit at that comment. \"Anyway, you have questions?\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate \n\nEven though Catarina did her best to hide her true emotions regarding the shifter in front of her, Cecilia caught it briefly. The slight racing of her heart also gave her away, but the shifter acted as if she hadn't noticed. Instead, she nodded. \n\n\"Interesting you say that.\" She chuckled. \"He's pretty skilled when it comes to blocking me out. There have been times where I haven't been able to crack through at all.\" \n\nWhen asked about the questions she had for her, or rather about her, Cecilia felt her smile widen. \"I do actually. I was wondering how the two of you met?\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estatate\n\n\"Ha,\" Cat replied, \"That's a story and a half. And we don't have all day. We met in Terresol several years ago now. Then in the Southern Isles somewhere that I needed to... Get away from. And he offered me that, so I wound up here.\"\n\n\"How did you two meet?\" She queried. \"I'm surprised to find out that he knows a shifter. It's not exactly... Common.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate\n\n\"That was kind of him.\" Even though it was a simple answer without many details, she was given enough to find more information regarding her background if she became curious enough.\n\nShe looked towards Val for a moment as she thought back to how they met. \"I can't remember exactly. But then again, the years merge together when you've been through enough.\" She turned back to Catarina with a small frown, playing for pity points. \"And it's no surprise about my kind since we were practically slaughtered to a point of near extinction.\""
},
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\n\"Catarina and I were first introduced a few months before I killed Vronti,\" Valkrin stated to Cecilia, turning his head toward Catarina, \"I believe Cecilia and I met after Vronti's death, though I was too rum-soaked in those years to remember.\""
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate\n\n*As they should have been,* Thought Cat, though after a moment of thought, she chided herself for such thinking. Val was associated with this shifter, and he seemed to think high enough of her. They couldn't all be child-killing monsters, could they? Though... She also was not naive enough to think that all, or even most, of Val's associates were what one would call \"Good\". Shades of grey, really. Could she even be called good? No, probably not. She was cursed, after all, and no good person bears a curse. \n\nShe was silent for a moment too long, lost in her own thoughts, but caught herself now and replied, \"The time really does blur... It's hard to remember what happened and when.\" She shook her head. \"It's hard to believe how long it's been.\" *Miri would be... 11? 12?* \n\nShe cleared her throat and forced a smile again. \"And, as much as this crotchety old man would have you believe otherwise, he does have a soft spot to him. He saved my life. Truly.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate\n\nShe waved her hand towards Val as val explained in his own way how they met. \"Something like that. I wouldn't be suprised if we met at a Tavern.\" \n\nWhen Catarina spoke, she nod her head in agreement to both of those statements. \"So, Val mentioned I may be able to reside here for a little while. That would alright with you, yes?\" She reall needed those Poppies off her ass."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate\n\nCat shrugged and replied, \"It's the Farensun Estate, not the Tanner estate. You don't need my permission to stay here. Any guest of Val is a guest of mine.\"\n\nTruth be told, she wasn't thrilled at the idea of a shifter staying at the estate and she didn't think she'd sleep very well tonight. Not until she knew a bit more about this woman? Creature? Thing? And could be reasonably certain that she wasn't going to be murdered in her sleep by it. Too many nightmarish tales of shifters from her childhood... But it wasn't her place to say no to a guest of Val's, and besides, it wasn't too likely that she'd be murdered in her sleep. There were guards everywhere, after all."
}
] | 135 | 1,191 |
111.333333 | 2024-01-21 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\n\"The matter is settled then, you'll stay here.\" He said to Cecilia, tapping the ashes of his cigar onto the ground. \n\n\"Continue at this rate and we'll be running an inn soon, Miss Tanner.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate \n\n\"Perfect!\" She clasped her hands together excitedly as she smiled happily at the thought. She could sense Catarina wasn't all that pleased with the idea but she could care less, she just needed the confirmation.\n\n\"So Catarina, what do you enjoy doing for fun?\" She inquired, curious to learn more about her. While she was staying here, she had no intentions of causing harm to anyone under this roof. She just wanted a break from constantly finding herself in trouble and didn't want to jeopardize her friendship with Val."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\nShe nodded to Valkrin and replied, \"Aye, just about. An inn of misfit things.\"\n\nAdmittedly, Cecilia might take offense to that statement, but Catarina really was including herself. They all were misfits and outcasts, really, and perhaps that's how and why they all came to find refuge here. \n\nTo Cecilia, she replied, \"There's always some social event going on somewhere, and I love attending those. The dancing and music are just *Divine*. For things around the estate, I love spending time in the gardens and reading for leisure activities, but nothing quite beats a horseback ride.\""
}
] | 124 | 334 |
114 | 2024-01-22 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "mastergunnysarge",
"message": "Captain Valkrin Farensun \nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper \n\nValkrin had stopped paying attention, focusing instead on the food from the tray. He was growing bored, as there hadn't been much excitement of his kind recently. \n\nThe pirate popped out his glass eye, wiping at it with a cloth from his pocket before sliding it back into place. \"If you do find yourself alone in my garden,\" He said to the shifter, \"Don't touch the fucking hibiscus.\""
},
{
"author": "gonna_drown_the_rich",
"message": "Cecilia Lyanah \nFarensun Estate\n\nShe nodded along as Catarina listed all her interests, finding her slightly boring though kept it hidden with a feigned interest. \"Horses are magnificent creatures, aren't they?\" \n\nWhen she hear Val speak, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. \"Yes Val, I will make sure to pay extra attention to your precious hibiscus.\" She inwardly smirked towards her sarcastic comment, however she spoke with a serious tone and wore a deadpanned gaze."
},
{
"author": "kaylamityjane",
"message": "Catarina Tanner\nFarensun Estate, Tonate Proper\n\n\"He cares more about that hibiscus than just about anything else,\" Mused Catarina, turning her attention to the plates of food before them. That's really what she was here for anyway. Meeting the guest was really just an excuse to have a delicious lunch in the garden, with having Val as company as an added bonus. \n\nShe took her seat, grabbing a bunch of grapes and popping a few into her mouth. Perhaps having a shifter about would add some adventure to the estate. Things had been a bit slow lately."
}
] | 112 | 342 |
323.333333 | 2024-04-26 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Lusine Sterre",
"message": "Lusine hated to fight, her whole mission in life was to heal, guide, and protect. But in times like this, combat felt like a necessary evil to her. She wasn't going to let herself be hurt or robbed. And she hoped the time it would take these men to recover might make them reconsider, leave the innocent alone. Refocusing on the matter at hand, she said sadly, tears brimming in her eyes that sparkled like stars, **\"I am sorry. I didn't want to do this. You left me no choice.\"** She spoke in Archaic Imperial as she looked to the blue sky and put her scythe back on her hip. \n** **\nA bright hot beam of moonlight shot down from the sky in a flash like lightning, mildly burning the mage before his spell could go off; he too fled the fight at a run. Spitting curses and seemingly ready to die, the bandit leader readied his sword and charged at the small woman. She stood resolute, a little melancholy. After he took one pace, she seemed to reach for a scabbard at her hip that wasn't there, and with bright glimmering light drew a longsword made of starlight from nothing. Meeting the man's charge head-on, she held the block shakily, her tears leaving glittering trails down her cheeks as she whispered, **\"Forgive me.\"** \n** **\n\nPushing the man back with a shove that spoke of more strength packed into her delicate frame than seemed possible, she quickly lunged forward to flick his sword out of his hand but missed. Dancing around him with graceful ease, she repositioned to slash at his hamstrings, knocking him to his knees in a growing puddle of blood. Her bright sword was pointed at his throat. The demigoddess' voice was pleading, **\"Please, give up.\"** After a few panted deep breaths due to the exertion, she added, **\"I can heal your wounds if you will leave at once.\"** Grumbling and shakily making his way to his feet, he spat on the ground. *\"I don't want your damned pity. I know when I'm beat. Leave me be!\"* \n** **\nLusine dismissed the stellar blade by simply letting it go, the sword disappearing in a glimmering haze. Her pale blue eyes and sad smile turned to Tyril. **\"Well, then... Thank you for your help.\"** She gestured forward, suggesting continuing down the road, **\"Shall we? It seemed we were going the same direction. And I would welcome the company.\"**"
},
{
"author": "Tyril nerijor",
"message": "After the fight was over Tyril stood there silently for a moment watching her closely. He had never been more perplexed and stunned by someone using her powers so well and being so powerful. He couldn't speak and wasn't sure how to respond to her. For a moment he stood there in stunned silence before clearing his throat as she approached him. The man smiled softly at her words and nodded his head at her. \"Yes please. It would be an honour to be in the company of a beautiful woman as well as someone who is extremely skillful in a fight.\" He responded to her with a charming smile. \"I am lord tyril by the way. \" He responded finally extending his hand to her."
},
{
"author": "Lusine Sterre",
"message": "The daughter of Lunara regarded Tyril with a slight twinkle in her pale blue eyes, a smile on her lips. It was a reaction she was rather accustomed to, and she tried to let him have a moment to find his composure. His compliments elicited a laugh from her, genuine and musical in nature. She bowed slightly, **\"Oh my, well, thank you!\"** She took his extended hand very lightly and gently with the softest squeeze before releasing it. **\"A pleasure, my lord. I already shouted who I am, so...\"** She huffed a laugh and turned to continue walking onward. \n\n**\"You did very well, also. You seem to know your way around fire magic quite well.\"** Her voice was soft but cheery, no trace of the deep sadness welling up within her present in her tone or expression. Perhaps this noble could keep her focused on the task at hand and make the journey a little more pleasant. **\"Are you from nearby? I used to live in Karmius City, many moons ago. I've quite missed Velaris and its natural beauty.\"** Since her return from darkness a few hundred years ago, she had made herself a home in the countryside outside the Eternal City, not far from where she grew up. It had taken her far, far too long to make this trip."
}
] | 278 | 970 |
561.666667 | 2024-04-29 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Tyril nerijor",
"message": "Tyril stayed silent for a moment as he looked into her eyes. He didn't move or say anything and only watched her closely. He noted the somber tone in her voice and the man didn't say anything to her for a moment and only licked his lips. \"I am sorry to hear that. I suppose war and scheming is something that stays everywhere and no matter who you are or how powerful you are you can't help it. \" He responded to her with a soft sigh. \"I understand you completely and I don't blame you for just wanting to go by. There are times when I feel that way too. \" He responded to her. \n\n\nTyril enjoyed walking with her side as the two made their way through the clearing and into the road. He stayed silent and didn't say anything and only continued to walk by her side. Only when she chimed in did he respond to her. Hearing her words the man smiled softly at her for a moment. \"It was just a trade business with the duke of this city. I live in the neighbouring city and we often partake in trade with one another. Just had some new terms to discuss that's all. \" He responded to her with a shrug. \n\n\n\nThe man continued to walk by her side until he noticed the sudden sadness in her face. The man watched her closely for a moment and his eyebrows narrowed in concern for her. He didn't like seeing her this way and he blamed himself for it because of his questions she was so sad now. He reached out and gently touched her shoulders and gave it a squeeze. \"I am sorry. I didn't know. I shouldn't have asked you. \" He said before looking away for a moment. He then turned his attention back to her again. \"Let me join you if you don't mind. I can provide you the support you need for the conversation. But if you want a moment of privacy then I understand completely. \" He said before hugging her softly"
},
{
"author": "Lusine Sterre",
"message": "Lusine's fair brows twitched at his words, an unintended arrow to her heart that made her feel more than she usually did that she wasn't doing a great job at her mission. The thousands of years of isolation were bad enough, but she knew she could be doing more even now. It was so easy for her to get distracted, especially in good company or a jovial scene. But perhaps she had lingered too long over such things. Perhaps if she had worked harder before *And* Now, there would be less suffering in the world. If she'd been strong enough to not shut herself away for so long... It was a dream, a hope, she'd been nurturing delicately, to have any semblance of a normal life, to just live and love like any mortal might. Especially without the fear of those she attached to dying, a rather constant and deep-seated fear that kept most at arm's length. With a resigned sigh and tired smile, she spoke without any traces of the defeat she felt, **\"What I want and what I must do are two rather different things. And I am quite beholden to the latter, no matter how much I may dream of the former. I can't just go by.\"**\n\nNodding along with Tyril's words of his business, her mind drifted for a moment as she looked up at the bright blue sky, only a few wispy clouds in sight. She wished she could look directly at the sun, but then it was fitting, wasn't it? For it to be so blindingly bright that you couldn't just stare. It stirred her guilt, however, as perhaps a sign that she should stop following such feelings. But the quick pounding of her heart said it had *No* Intention of listening to her head at all. How could she admit those feelings to her departed husband if she could barely think them to herself? She shook her head, as if trying to clear the thoughts too, and refocused on the conversation.\n** **\n\nThe Moon Maiden was so in her own head, entrenched in the deep, roiling feelings inside, that she wasn't ready to be touched, and she stiffened up, her mind freezing for a moment as if it felt like the world was spinning a little. *Oh no, not now...* She thought some with some chagrin, recognizing the feeling of her shadowed side trying to emerge. She tried to push it down, but she was already so worn out from both fighting and wrestling her high emotions, that the Moon's Shadow slipped out before she could stop it. Her pale eyes turned a deep midnight blue and the glow temporarily faded from her skin, leaving it looking more like smooth marble. She shouted, very uncharacteristically of how kind she'd been thus far, **\"No!! I just want to be alone.\"** She stood there a few moments, a pace away from him, taking deep labored breaths, before her face was in her hands, and she was crying, sparkling tears leaking out between her fingers, small plants with closed buds springing up on the dirt road where they landed.\n\nWhen Lusine pulled her hands away a moment, her eyes were that silvery pale blue again, and her pale skin resumed its glimmering in the sun. **\"I'm so sorry, Tyril, I just...\"** She took a ragged breath choked by tears, **\"Thank you for the offer, but... This is something I** Really **Need to do alone. I don't want company.** Any **Company.\"** She tried to wipe away the iridescent tears as she sniffled, **\"And please don't touch me... As you can see, I have a rather ardent protector inside, and... I just don't want to be touched, please.\"** She felt terrible for the slip-up, but little could be done about it now."
},
{
"author": "Pride",
"message": "It was as if thunder itself strode down from the skies and began to walk the earth. The rumble was loud and growing louder, the sounds of voices and the clatter of armor grew nearer and nearer to the Moon Child and Tyril by the second. A beacon of light created over the horizon, golden and warm like the rising sun, as the Legio Titanicus and their General marched upon Karmius City.\n\nHe sat atop a winged white lion, silver armor adorning the beasts fur of fallen snow. Both of them large and imposing, beasts in their own ways, and as the legio grew closer it's size and design became all the more clear to see. Golden armor was worn by all within the legio, all astride heavy and powerful horses. Some carried swords and maces, others axes and staves, but each of their helmets carried with them something that united them as one- each helmet was shaped like the head of a lion.\n\nThe Legio Titanicus has been deployed to Karmius to investigate the recent attack upon it and at the head of their formation, as always, was *Him.* ***The White Lion of The Empire. The Sun-Shaper. The Imperator. The Last Son of Titanos, Pride Malcorin.***\n\nHis keen eyes surveyed the lands before him, his senses taking note of all that was around, and when he heard the voice of one he knew very well scream in such distress it was like the weight of the sun itself fell upon Tyril' shoulders.\n\n** **\nWith a small gesture of his right hand flags were raised within the legio and marching ceased. Ushering Ikabad, his lion, onwards the demigod and his steed soon approached Lusine and Tyril.\n\n\"***Greetings.***\" He said with a tone that was strikingly different than his appearance, cold and reserved. \"***Is everything ok? I heard shouting.***\" He gazed down at Tyril from his perch atop Ikabad, the gold of his eyes seemed hot, almost oppressive- as he focused solely on the man before him. \n\nHe knew not why such shouting had occurred, nor why Lusine was involved in the situation, but the promise he had made to her still held true and his conviction never wavered: he would protect her."
}
] | 476 | 1,685 |
477.692308 | 2023-12-19 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The Logbringer Tavern was full of life and mirth as the night grew dark in Velaris. The bards sat upon a stage and played a merry tune, Smallfolk, humans and mostly of course, elves danced in the open section of the dining room where tables had been shoved aside to make plenty of room. Mugs sloshed with fine Velaris ale, roasted hog and steamed vegetables, bubbling stew and freshly baked bread. The place was full of tourists for the Festival of the Harvest King, people here to sell wares and loggers here to deliver their wood and collect their pay. The inn was large, quite large and the staff was hard at work. \n\nWhile all of this was happening, there seemed to be a stir in the air. Only the most perceptive would see it, but the very air over a certain table in the furthest most corner from the entrance was beginning to shimmer and shake. The magical energy in the room was rising and rapidly too for those that could sense it. A mage here, a Wizard there glanced up and scanned the space, instantly wary of some oncoming threat. There were a few shouts of warning but the music, the singing, the dancing and the talking were so loud that no one seemed to notice in the loud and large space. In fact a surprising amount of people did NOT notice when the space split itself into a thin white line and opened up- only to spit out a *Man* And a pile of snow before snapping shut. \n\nThe man's body hit the table with a loud **CRASH** And the snow melted rapidly into slush. The table flipped and people roared with laughter as they assumed it was some trick. However any nearby that had an eye for the sort of thing would notice that the man was likely a corpse. \n\nHe was by all intents and purposes however, the most beautiful corpse this world or the next would ever see. His pale skin was tinted blue and yet somehow it only made him seem more ethereal, his raven black hair and long lashes, his strong jawline and delicate nose. He was both masculine and feminine, handsome and beautiful,\n\nWith a lean body and dark clothing. \n\nMost notably he seemed cold and just as notably- he had a gaping hole in his chest where a large blade must have pierced that seemed to be bleeding only a very small amount. Unmoving and surely dead and yet... Any who checked would find it. A pulse so slow that he was *Nearly* Dead. That death was knocking upon the door of his soul. An adventurer realized this and shouted, \"Healer! Healer! This man here! He's hurt!\" \n\nNoctis Camille had just arrived all the way from Forstead, unconscious and on the verge of death. There was a flurry of motion around him, he had a beautiful sword and fine armor on his arms and legs, but when that motion had finished the sword and the armor on his arms and legs were already gone- men in dark hoods slipping away with glee. Trying to stop them and trying to save the man would surely result in failure in both tasks. \n\nNow fates threads spin to see who it is that is to be woven next into this story..."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the air was wild and warm, the scent of savory ale, fat roasted hog and warm fresh bread. The festive season brought many smiles, laughs and singing voices to fill the busy tavern, many figures enjoying the moment and each with a story to tell. Almonde was one of those figures, the young devotee was travelling elvish lands after completing a quest. Having rested in the tavern for a few days to recover her love for a feather bed and savory food. Allowing herself a reward of rest and a feast, the woman was watching the roasted hog with a hungry gaze. Filling her plate up with a small feast on her own, the blue haired woman would begin walking the floor in search of a table.*\n\n```\"Pardon me, excuse me. Behind you. Th- thank you.\"```\n\n*Almonde said as she'd begin making her way through the wild crowd. Their eyes would witness a short woman dressed in a white and blue dress, covered with holy symbols and decorations. A veil over her head, just above her blue eyes that were as warm as the fires roasting the hog. The woman was only slightly gifted in the art of magic, however she felt an odd disturbance in the air. Her eyes darting around, looking for someone or something in distress. Before suddenly a body would crash with a large amout of snow behind her. Surprisingly, the devotee and causing her to drop her plate. A concern expression could be seen on her face as she'd turn around, wondering if this was just a drunk wizard playing a trick. But, she'd notice that the man was dehydrated, cold and very close to death. Her years of tending to the wounded gave her an edge at recognizing his wounds. Upon hearing the Adventurer shout out, she'd quickly reassured the man that a healer was nearby.*\n\n```\"I'm a healer! Get me some warm blankets now! This is an emergency!\"```\n\n*She would yell out as her first focus was hypothermia, the other wounds could be healed by her magic. At least she thought, quickly wasting no time. The devotee began a prayer.*\n.\n\n\"```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, Please heed my words and heal your children. With your blessing and embrace, mend our souls. Keep their light and flame within, please do not let it fade. As you may.\"```\n\n*Her healing magic would glow onto her staff, as she'd gently press her warm hand onto his neck. Her eyes studied his wounds with care. Some of his wounds would stabilize, his ribs were slolwy mended and his arm was carefully pressed down to allow it to heal easier. The healing magic was potent and powerful but the wound on his chest would not heal. Taking out a clean cloth, she'd put pressure on the open wound and attempted to stop the bleeding. By now, an elf would arrive with some warm blankets. A crowd began to form around them, Almonde worried about thieves taking advantage of the situation.*\n\n```\"Can you carry him for me? To my room? We have him stable but a crowded table... You know.\"```\n\n*The large elf man would give a firm nod after hearing her request. After waiting for the nun to finish wrapping the oddly handsome man lightly in a blanket. The man carried the wounded man carefully in the tavern rooms, following the devotee into her room. For his troubles, she'd give him a silver coin. The man was gently placed onto her bed, where she'd cover his neck, armpits an groin. The warmth should assist with his battle against the cold.*\n\n*The woman noticed that the blade wound in his chest was not healing at all. She'd study how deep the wound was, before realizing that he wasn't bleeding a lot which made her believe that he was running out of blood. First the nun controlled the bleed, sealed the gaping wound to protect his lung from further infection.*\n\n```\"There we go, just breath and keep fighting. Don't give up on me now.\"```\n\n*As time passed, the nun dedicated the entire time to healing this critical man's wounds. His arm was propping upwards to reduce swelling, wrapped in cloth. The man was positioned in a seated position, to not add pressure to his healing lungs. Surrounded by blankets and pillows, she'd try to speak to the man.*\n\n```\"If you can hear me, take shallow breathes. Small and shallow, not deep breaths. Okay?\"```\n\n*She sat herself on the edge of the bed as she'd carefully read his condition. Nothing else was on her mind, besides, healing the man.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The dark was warm and comforting, he could feel something tied to his back and tugging on him, trying to get him to sink deeper into the ocean of surrender. Far above him he could see sunlight glittering on the surface of the water, bubbles drifting up lazily from his mouth. He tried hard to remember how he'd gotten here, what he'd been doing. All he really wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad, he couldn't even recall what he had been struggling against. \n\nThen there was a whisper of sound. Slowly, oh so slowly it grew louder until it echoed in his ears like someone calling from the end of the cavern. \n\n*\"If you can hear me, take shallow breaths.\"* It was a soothing voice, gentle. He wanted to take a deep breath and gasp for air and let the water flood his lungs, but then her voice came through more. \n\n*\"Small and shallow, not deep breaths. Okay?\"* Strangely it was the okay that did it for him, such a gentle request of him he felt rude to not reply. Noctis began a series of slow, shallow breaths. He breathed in only bubbles and could breathe- his body began to drift towards the surface. \n\n- - - - \n\nOutside the dream, his breathing got slower and he began to take shallow breaths. Not yet awake, his raven hair fell across his ethereally handsome face- long dark lashes making him seem some doll created by the gods to gawk at. He was dirty and sodden, the magic had reduced some of the most dangerous effects but that wound... \n\nIt was simply as if the wound was *Devoid* Of magic, magic made up all things and yet this one seemed to swallow magic and drink it. Any healing magic applied simply faded away. So close to the heart, inches from it- a wound made by a cursed blade.\n\nOutside the sound of people laughing resonated against the window pane and the sound of singing and dancing came from down below again as the party resumed. The world continued to turn, and these two remained. \n\n*\"𝕻𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖓 𝖎 𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖓í𝖗𝖔𝖓, 𝖆 𝖓𝖎𝖓\n\nú-𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖌\"* He whispered suddenly, and his voice was hoarse and rattling. He spoke in elvish, a saying that meant he could say anything he wanted and he would not be understood. It seemed he was talking in his sleep, not yet conscious. \n\nThere was a knock at the door. \n\n**\"Hello? Sorry to bother you, but I thought you might want some of the hog before it was gone.\"** A low voice said from the other side of the door, it was smooth and had a sort of dance to it, a strange accent. A man's voice assuredly. \n\nIf she opened the door she'd find a man there, only an inch short of six feet with short cut hair and fine clothes, likely a merchant of some kind. His eyes were a piercing blue color and he had a stoic expression on his face. However he did hold a tray of food, hog and stew, bread and some cheese, a few strawberries and a cup of spiced wine."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As she'd sit on the edge of the bed, her eyes widened as his breathing was shallow. A smile grew on her face as she'd begin to wonder what happened to the man, the world of Aeterna was filled with oddities but this was a different catalog. Although, the young man was handsome by all accounts but her focus remains on his wounds. The last thing that she wanted was a handsome dead body on her bed. With some magic and potent herbs, she'd begin applying them onto his wounds. Hoping that herbs and treatments could work if magic failed. Suddenly, hearing his words and recognizing the elvish tongue that he spoke. The woman did not get enough time to translate what he said as a sudden knock was heard on to the door.*\n\n```\"Relax. You're safe now. Gosh, what happened to you.\"```\n\n*The devotee said as she'd rise up to answer the door, with a confused expression. The short woman held the door, only allowing her head to peek out and her gaze met with the man's piercing blues. Suspensions were raised by this man, as the wounded man's injuries were still a mystery. The situation of the thieves taking the wounded man's armor and sword were already causing her to be very alert.*\n\n```\"Oh no thank you, I'm quite fine. You're very sweet. But I must focus on- I must focus. I appreciate it however! May Calisto bless. Have a good evening.\"```\n\n*Almonde wasn't sure on the situation, hence paranoia began to grow within her. She'd prefer to go hungry than risk getting poisoned, put to sleep or even attacked. The locals had already taken advantage of the man, she hoped to protect him until she was certain that this stranger meant no harm.*\n\n```\"Take care, Sir.\"```\n\n*She'd politely decline the food simply out of fear, her nervous voice was quite obvious. Closing the door and locking it, she'd stand behind the door with an ear against it. This wounded man could have been a survivor to an attack, the wound on his chest was that of a blade. There was a small chance that this man came to finish the job or simply to confirm if he was dead. Whatever the case was, she was willing to go hungry for his protection.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The man sighed and set the tray down on the floor, she could hear him shuffle awkwardly and then clear his throat. \n\n\"Listen, I'm something of a scholar you see and I was just hoping to ask a few questions. It isn't every day a man just appears in the middle of a tavern all beat up like that. I just wanted to know if he was alive, what the chances of recovery are. Just want to know where he came from and what happened to him.\" He was quiet a moment before saying. \n\n\"He's got an unnatural face. The barmaids, the serving girls, the work women, several of the men- those who spotted his face were almost enthralled by it.\" He shifted as if he had startled himself. \n\n\"Apologies, I'm rambling now. Still if you could at least answer, the food here won't stay hot long but I can leave it at your door or something for later, no need to pay me back if that's your concern.\" His voice had a drawling accent that seemed to tango with his low tone. He did sound genuinely interested. \n\nThe unconscious man's eyes meanwhile seemed to dart wildly back and forth behind his eyelids, though his breath remained shallow and slow, his lips turned from blue to a soft and lush pink color once again."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As her ear would fall against the oak door, the devotee listened carefully to the man's words. Although the man did sound genuine, she wasn't very confident in his sudden and determined appearance. A scholar? The man clearly did not come with kindness on mind, he had an hidden intentions. Perhaps it was simple curiosity, but was it worth the risk. The devotee herself did not know much, when he mentioned the crowds that spotted his face. Her eyes took a glance at the man, he did look unnaturally handsome but that was the least of her interest. The nun opened the door once again, peeking her head out but kept her foot at the door.*\n\n```\"I will answer your questions but only if you answer mine honestly. If you try to lie to me or deceive me, I will politely ask you to leave.\"```\n\n*The woman said sounding determined and firm in her tone even if her eyes held a hue of concern. The young devotee looked at the well dressed man with care, as if studying him for a moment.*\n\n```\"Who are you? Something of a scholar is rather ominous. What do you do? Why are you here and what your intentions? What brought you to the Luminia City. Are you armed? Why are you so curious about the man? What will you do with answers I give you? You seem too determined to be a simple curious scholar. I am not hungry, so you can keep that food.\"```\n\n*The woman seemed very suspicious of the stranger, unsure if this was a curious man or something deeper. The unconscious man was vulnerable and was already stabbed, she needed to be cautious.*\n\n```\"And finally, what are your intentions with him? He is not in a state for visitors and I'd rather not have another bunch of thieves or potential killers take advantage of him.\"```\n\n*The nun seemed rather determined and firm with her tone, taking a glance at the unconscious man. Noticing his lips seemed to heal once more.*\n\n```\"Do you know this man? It could just be wizard escaping an atttacker. Hardly, worth the attention of a scholar.\"```"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The man blinked slowly under her onslaught of questions, the verbal barrage being sifted through as his crystal blue eyes watched her face. When she'd finished he rubbed the back of his head and then grumbled, pulling out a cigarette. He stuck it into his mouth and waved a hand over the end- it ignited. \n\n\"My name is Ben Koal, I'm a Professor of the Magios Academy. *I* Am a Wizard and I know high level teleportation magic when I see it. The man in there is barely in his twenties it looks like- you're telling me a twenty something year old human can pull off a feat of magic like that while deathly wounded?\" He asked, letting the smoke from the self wrapped stick drift up. Cigarettes, a newer practice of taking parchment and stuffing it with tobacco and other materials. \n\n\"I've come to discuss potential education for some nobleman's child if you absolutely must know, I can't divulge more than that. What I'll do with the answers is what any scholar does, I'll use them to answer questions- and I *Am* Determined to get answers when strange magic happens around me. An unnatural man appears, there's a burst of extremely potent magic and he had magical items on him. I was a bit distracted to chase thieves, but..\" \n\nToo distracted or unwilling. His tone of voice suggested he had little interest in chasing thieves. \n\n\"Lastly, I am only armed with knowledge. I can respect your reservations- but all I've asked so far is if he lives and if he will live. I have other questions but I can ask them of him and you in some place public if you'd like- just tell me the answers to the first two questions so I know if sticking around will be worth my time. Please.\" The please was tacked on last minute. \n\nAs he shifted his jacket back to put away the cigarettes there would be a visible mahogany wand holstered on his hip but was quickly covered by the jacket. His crystal eyes fell on her face, narrowing as he studied her, seemed to try and peer behind her own eyes. \n\n\"Does that suffice for\n\nYour interrogation?\""
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*The devotee listened with care, her eyes half opened as they became sharper. His answers seemed to satisfy her, as it did make sence that a wizard would be interested in such an incident. The man seemed to fit the age of scholar and his reasons for being in city seemed believable. Although, his unwillingness to help made it clear that his intentions were solely focus on information as a scholar would be. Her eyes glanced at his mahogany wand.*\n\n```\"Armed with knowledge, could be as deathly as an armed mercenary. But I feel that there's truth to your words. Also, no smoking if you would so kind.\"```\n\n*Almonde said as she'd motion the man to stop smoking, it wasn't meant as an attack. The unconscious man had already problems breathing and punctured lung. The devotee thought for a moment as she'd open the door fully, as she'd speak.*\n\n```\"He is alive and I have him stable. Magic doesn't seem to heal his wounds, I had to result to more traditional methods. Broken ribs, arms and hypothermia. A blade wound to the chest, the blade punctured his lung. Come and sit, maybe you'll see or find something I can't. But give me that wand first and no smoking.\"```\n\n*The devotee said willing to finally let the man in, if he met with her terms. She was tempted to lie or provide the bare minimum of answers but a wizard may explain why her healing magic wasn't effective, hoping to find a way around it. He seemed like a cold and immature wizard but held no real threat to the man. Should he accept, she allowed him inside before closing the door behind him. Locking it.*\n\n```\"There was snow on him when he was teleported. His blade and armor were oddly beautiful. Perhaps a noble son or merchants? My biggest concern is his chest wound, I sealed it but it rejected my magic. I've never seen that before.\"```\n\n*The devotee sat herself on the edge of the bed once more, her hands checking on his pulse and warmth. Adjusting the pillows to better position the unconscious man.*"
},
{
"author": "Ben Koal",
"message": "\"Very well.\" He waved his hand over the stick again and the embers died out. He stuck the now cool stick into his inner jacket pocket and looked at her as she continued to speak. Ben was a handsome man with his well done hair, seemingly in his mid to late 30's and human. His eyebrow raised as she demanded his wand, but he slipped it free from its holster and flipped it nimbly in his hand to give to her. The arcane focus was lovely truly, polished with a leather grip and very smooth despite it being a little crooked. The tip was lined with gold filigree. \n\n\"Life has certainly taught you proper precautions. I wish my students were half as street wise as you are.\" His 'are' came out in a low drawl as he pulled a stool over to the bed and began to roll back his long silk sleeves. His forearms were littered with strange runic scars that had seemingly been carved into his flesh. Paying them little mind, he santized his hands with some water and then peeled back the bandage on the chest wound. He clicked his tongue through his teeth as he studied the wound, tilting his head one way and then the other. \n\n\"Do me a favor please and cast another healin spell on em, just a small one, something minor that won't take much mana.\" He said, still gazing at the wound. It was a dark color, purple around the edges. \"Lost a lot of blood this one- amazing he's alive with all them injuries. You imagine *Just* A wizard survivin all that?\" He asked, rolling those piercing blue orbs over to her to see what she thought. It was obvious he thought the idea ludicrous."
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Meanwhile Noctis' fingers twitched when her hands rested on his wrist to check his pulse, as if wantiing to take her hand and hold it. His lips pulled back for just a moment as if he were snarling. Perhaps it wasn't a sweet gesture at all. His own warmth was returning and quickly, he felt almost feverishly warm to her hands now. Yet as if compelled by her words before his breathing stayed slow and shallow, his fingers twitching anytime he is touched."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the devotee patiently waited for man to hand over his wand, her eyes were naturally drawn to craftsmanship. Quietly impressed, it only confirmed his answers. With care, she'd slip the wand into her pockets. Gentky scratching the side of her cheek, as she'd steal a glance at his runic scars. The devotee knew little of wizards and their magical academies.*\n\n```\"The streets of the Capital can be a good teacher.\"```\n\n*Almonde said in a calmer tone, although she was tempted to say that perhaps the students don't gain street smarts is due to their wealthy or dedicated studies. Not watching nor experiencing the unpredictable but the devotee did not wish to start a debate with a wounded or potentially dying man in the room. Her eyes widened as Ben peeled back the bandage, staring at his facial expression.*\n\n```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, Please mend this wound.\"```\n\n*Using her hands to cast the spell and reciting a short prayer, a small glow of blue would begin to form around her finger tips. The magic attempting to mend the wound once again.*\n\n```\"I've seen people survive critical wounds from luck or magic. Some people can die from an arrow to the knee while few can survive being burnt alive. Different factors are at play here, I would assume.\"```\n\n*Her voice was spoken with a hue of confusion and concern, her days of treating the wounded has taught her that humans in particular are able to survive extreme wounds on very rare occasions. Her eyes glanced at unconscious man's fingers twitching, her attention turned and she'd worry that he was going into shock. Her hands would gentky hold the unconscious man's hands, feeling his warmth rise. She'd use her free hand to remove some blankets, her voice would escape her lips once more.*\n\n```\"It's okay. Calm yourself if you can hear me. Don't panic and don't fear. Focus on your breathing for me, okay? Shallow and low, in and out.\"```\n\n*The devotee said in a soothing tone, watching his body with care.*"
},
{
"author": "Ben Koal",
"message": "\"Sure but he was practically frozen solid, punctured lungs and it looks like he was nearly pierced in the heart. I'm just saying that the pieces point to this young man being something more.\" He said, grimacing as the healing magic is once again nullified by the wound, dissipating entirely. \"Yeap, thats a wound caused by a cursed weapon. Specifically augmented weapons designed to to destroy, or some such I might think. Looks like this one specifically nullifies healing magic. In other words its a blade designed to guarantee death.\" Ben said, sitting back on the stool and letting out a low whistle. \n\n\"And you, any connection this man at all? You seem mighty determined to be saving a stranger who just had all his valuables robbed.\" Ben said, crossing his scarred arms over his chest and watching her comfort the sleeping man. \"Far as I see it, there is a fat chance he's a lost cause.\" Ben admitted, scratching awkwardly at his own elbow. His foot tapped, it was obvious his mind was racing, trying to piece together the events and see how it all played out together, her included."
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "As her hand settled into his own, he'd shift his head only slightly. It was obvious whatever dreams he'd been having were still ongoing, however just as his breath began to hitch it slowed down again. \n\n- - - - \n\n**\"So, you really think Scipio is going to bring peace to the Nine Realms? No way, you're delusional Noctis. The entirety of the realms wants to see you all burn on stakes.\"** Albony said, laughing as he lightly hammered a design into the dagger he was working on. The young man had mousy brown hair and was tiny, barely five feet tall and covered in freckles. Noctis laughed and tossed the rubber ball against the wall, catching it as it bounced back to him. \n\n\"Of course I do. I'm gonna help him too, he said he has special plans for me.\" Noctis said with a grin, his raven hair pulled back into a ponytail behind his head. A teenager, Noctis was boyishly handsome and femininely cute, his teeth glittering and his cheeks dimpled. A beautiful creature that showed the glimmers of the deadly, gorgeous titan he'd grow into. For now he laughed and it was the tinkling of bells as he hopped up on a bench and pulled out his sword. A curved blade with a beautifully wrapped hilt and a shimmering edge. His mothers blade. \"They're gonna call me a hero, Albony.\" \n\n- - - -\n\nNoctis watched the memory play out from within that dark depths, seeing it form on the surface of the water that was so close and yet still so far. That anchor attached to his spine still tugged, still sang its gentle lullaby for him to sleep. Whatever was down there wanted him to be at peace, to rest. It was almost tempting to get away from this vision, this memory of a friend who'd been whisked away and murdered publicly to show that Scipios followers weren't invincible. Noctis had been assigned to worker protection that night and had instead opted to join in the fight against a child of Titanos, instead of stay in his area to ensure no one broke through their back ranks. He'd recieved glory for the fight\n\n- but he'd only truly gained shame for the death of a good friend. The guilt of it only made the anchor heavier and he sunk a few inches until that voice spoke again. Who's voice *Was* That? \n\nHe wanted to panic, wanted to be scared. He'd spent his entire life fighting and fighting and giving up so much and what had he gotten out of it? Yet even as she spoke he felt himself drift higher, he was almost to the waters surface now. Just one more push... One more and he'd be through. Then he'd have to do it all over again- the schemes, the worrying, the rage, the... The loneliness. \n\n- - - - \n\nNoctis' breathing remained calm and his fingers lightly squeezed hers as if using her to try and pull at something."
}
] | 445 | 6,210 |
492.2 | 2023-12-22 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*The devotee watched the scholar with curiosity squinting eyes, as he began to examine the man more closely. His observation on his clean and unstained clothing, the scholar was right. As she'd remember a table filled with hog, fruits and sticky mead, she certainly didn't clean him. Leaning over, her gaze met with the unconscious man's clothing, jewelry and cloak. Although she did feel bad about treating a patient as a study, these little details could potentially provide a solution or a treatment to his seemly incurable wound. This scholar had sharper eyes and deep knowledge in these things, she thought to herself.*\n\n```\"Hmmm, I applaud your keen eyes. I didn't touch his clothing or hair, I was too concerned with keeping alive. The cursed wound had me very concerned, too concerned to tidy his appearance.\"```\n\n*She answered with a genuine tone as her eyes expressed confusion, her attention turned to Ben as he made a suggestion to physical remove the cursed flesh. Although, there was a chance that the unconscious man may die during the process... He'd certainly die with a cursed gaping wound on his chest. She did have a surgery kit with her, to mend smaller wounds to those that refuse magic.*\n\n```\"But do you think you have a steady and keen hand as well? I suggest that you carefully remove the cursed flesh and I will heal it as soon as it's cut. It will not be easy but I fear he will die if we don't do anything. And from what I know with curses, they don't really go away... Just spread.\"```\n\n*Almonde would stand up as she spoke, her eyes searching for her pack. The woman was alert and focused, very determined to save the life of this mysterious man. Upon finding it, she would take out a bottle of pure alcohol, a small thin blade and fruit bowl.*\n\n```\"We should do this with care as you said, we're close to the vitals. But, if I constantly heal as you cut... We could minimize the risks. Although I will be very tired and unable to heal for awhile after that haha.\"``"
},
{
"author": "Ben Koal",
"message": "The wizards eyes popped and he nearly choked on his own spit, having to push away from the sleeping man as he coughed, pounding on his chest. Once his air way was clear his head whipped up towards her as he raised his hands apologetically. \"No, no no- I was not suggesting I should do it, ive never even so much as cut into a cadaver much less a person. I assumed that as a healer you could be the one to attempt- *Should* Be the one to attempt it. I can assist with your mana issue however.\" He said, extending his hand out for the his wand back. \n\n\"One of the magical techniques I practice is called Transference. I can move energy, essentially. I'll transfer my stamina and mana to you, hopefully itll let you heal and cut at the same time.\" He said, his crystal blue eyes going from her to the sleeping man. \"I can help with keeping him alive too, though if I have to resort to that I fear I may end up also being in need of your care.\" He said sheepishly, his finely polished shoes shuffling on the wooden floor. \n\n\"Are you willing to try it?\" \n\n\nThe one thing Almonde would find is that when she stoof to go to her pack, his fingers would tighten weakly on her own as if unwilling to stop holding her hands, a gentle and desperate squeeze that lost strength almost instantly, his hand limply falling back onto the bed."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*Her eyebrows would rise as she'd witness the scholar's reaction and answer to her suggestion. A puzzled look could be seen on her face, as she assumed the man would be eager at the chance to take a closer look at the man. Her smile betrayed her as the devotee found his reaction to be amusing, yet she'd focus on the matter at hand. Digging her fingers into her pockets to return the fine wand back to its owner.*\n\n```\"Oh? I assumed your curiosity would jump at the chance to get a closer look into him. But worry not, I will do my best. I do have experience with these tools.\"```\n\n*Her words left her lips with a firm tone, taking the matter seriously as her smile faded. Magic transference seemed like a good and useful idea, she'd take a moment to gently return her hands with that of the unconscious hand after having laid her tools on the side of the bed.*\n\n```\"I'm willing and able, do your best. If you should need any of my care, you'll definitely receive it. Now, let's begin. But, please let me focus and try not to disrupt. A friendly reminder.\"```\n\n*The devotee said as she'd pull out a pair of white gloves, along with a cloth mask for herself. Putting both on briefly, she'd sharpen her blade to razor-sharp edge. Coating it in water and then alcohol, she'd take a closer look at the wound. Making some adjustments to the unconscious man, before briefly turning to the scholar.*\n\n```I am going to begin, I need you to be ready and focused. Do not panic. Also... If he wakes up during the process... Can I count on you to cast a sleep spell on him or simply hold him down?\"```\n\n*She asked him as she'd coat a cloth with alcohol, gently tapping it over the gapping wound. Preparing it for their experimental surgery. The devotee was focused and rather determined.*\n.\n\n```\"If you can hear me and sence pain. Do not panic please, we are helping you. Endure, I'll make this quick. Take this, it may help with the pain. Just hang in there and don't leave us, please.\"```\n\n*She spoke directly towards the unconscious man, giving him a sip of numbness liquid, a medication that numbs the sences and helps with extreme pain. After a moment, she'd begin her work. Planning a way to cut and beginning the process to removal, the fruit bowl over the man's side to collect any cursed flesh. She'd whisper a prayer as both her hands carefully sliced its way into the cursed flesh.*\n\n```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, Hear me and mend this child's wounds. Please, restore his health and body to its former glory. As you may.\"```"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "\"What awaits us after we die, Nylia?\" Noctis asked the fellow demigod as they huddled down in the trench. His iron sword was chipped in several places and his armor worn- this attack had been brutal as both sides tried to reclaim a no man's land where precious resources would be found. The type that could ensure the strength of an army. Scipio had needed his best fighters for this one- even the spiders that climbed around in the dark. \n\nNylia, a white haired daughter of Mortem, sighed as she checked her quiver and ensured the feathers on her arrows were still secure. Then she checked her pouch to see if there was another coil of wire to restring her bow should it break. \n\n\"Nylia?\" \n\n\"I can't tell you, Noct.\" She snapped, her red eyes hot. \"My mother forbids her children from telling others anything of the afterlife, it's a rule for all the gods of death. Death is where mortality ends- it isn't our place to know of it. Only to know it awaits all of us.\" \n\n- - - - \n\nNoctis looked away from the memory as he watched lightning streaks of red flash through the dark ocean he drifted in. He was dimly aware that it was pain- pain *He* Was feeling. Yet he didn't feel it. Perhaps whoever had hurt him was finishing the job, maybe he was being tortured. Maybe some beast was eating what was left of him. He didn't know. It was so hard to care. \n\nYet every-time he thought he might just sink to the bottom of that ocean, the voice returned and he felt the ghost of a touch on his hand that was gentle and kind. \n\n\"Don't leave us, please.\" \n\nHe scoffed, bubbles drifting away from him. Who had ever truly wanted him around? Who hadn't met him and gotten what they wanted, that wasn't eager to send him away later. It was how he treated people, he did it first because that meant they hurt and not him. In this world that was how it worked- you hurt others before they could hurt you and you accepted that it didn't mean that it was right but that you didn't have another choice. \n\n\"What else mus\n\nT I endure to give others what I've never received?\" \n\n- - - - \n\nThe cursed flesh rejected the numbing pain and the unconscious man writhed, his eyelids fluttering and his eyes rolling back. However before he could move too much, Ben chanted a spell in elvish which roughly translated to. \n\n\"Rigid lock and stop the flow of any sensation, keep this vessel tightly bound within their designation.\" \n\nHis wand flourished and Noctis was paralyzed- still feeling the pain but entirely unable to move, his brain incapable of sending signals. \n\n\"Don't stop, finish the task. Transference!\" Ben said, and Almonde would feel her mana replenish as Ben sagged against the wall to keep her magic supply full."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As her numbing liquid seemed to either fail or was too weak for the unconscious man's body, a frustrated sigh escaped her masked lips. Her eyes softened, as she'd pity this poor man. This cursed was created for death and suffering it seemed, too cruel and evil for almost any entity, she thought to herself. Whoever did this had a lot of hatred or sadistic intention towards the nameless young man. As the thought passed her mind, she'd return her focus on removing the cursed skin and flesh.*\n\n```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, Please heed my words and continue to share your loving embrace. For he suffers and fights for life, he is deserving of your mercy. As you may.\"```\n\n*She said quietly as her blade began to cut pieces off of the man's chest, removed bits of flesh and healing the open wound. Blood began to leak and spill out, the woman's white gloves turning crimson as she'd continue her work. She had a choice to make, either hurry the removal to lessen the pain or concentrate to remove the flesh slolwy. As the devotee was aware that each choice was heavy, she'd pick the more painful and slow process. Carefully, running her blade arcoss his flesh as if it was the fabric of a dress.*\n\n\n```\"Shhhhh. Stay with me. I know I know, it hurts. But please endure for us, you've come so far. Just a little longer.\"```\n\n*She'd say as the devotee dropped a strip of cursed flesh onto the fruit bowl, the devotee took her time and made slow cuts into the skin with a keen eye. Avoiding vitals and cutting the most flesh to ensure that cursed flesh was gone from his body entirely. She made sure to endure that the deepest parts of the cursed flesh was removed first before moving on to the exterior.*\n.\n\n*It would take an hour of cutting, healing and comfort for the cursed flesh to be fully removed, it filled the fruit bowl and covered the woman's gloves with blood. It was a messy scene but the cut flesh healed, the cursed flesh seemed to be removed. The gapping hole in his chest was closed and bloody, Almonde paused as she'd finally finish the painful surgery. Checking the healed wound intensely, the blood had made a mess of the bed yet that was the last of her concerns. Taking off her gloves, she'd check on the man's breathing and pulse.*"
}
] | 506 | 2,461 |
444.333333 | 2023-12-23 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "When the hour was over, Bens head rested wearily against the window. He had transferred over plenty of mana and stamina to Almonde and now was entirely drained, only concious in the lightest of terms. He let out a weary sigh as Noctis' body regained its vibrant color and seemed to once again be full of life. The sleeping raven haired beauty had a strong pulse and deep, slow breaths. It was as if he'd never been hurt. It seemed the second the cursed flesh was gone, his body had quickly recovered with her healing magic. \n\n**\"Well... Very good work, Sister Almonde.\"** Ben mumbled, his eyes fluttering with weariness. **\"I think I will go to my room and take a nap, will you be okay with him?\"** He asked, pushing himself to his feet and swaying a bit. He had his wand holstered his his once finally done hair was a disheveled mess, as if he were the one who'd been on the bed being operated on. His crystal blue eyes swept from her to the man and back and he nodded. **\"Yes I think you will be. I'm very impressed with your skill, I do not think I have met someone your equal in the art of it.\"** He said, and gace her a half bow. \"**Lets meet for dinner tonight to discuss. I'll let you go grab the food.\"** He said, putting a gold down on the table. It seemed he'd understood her reservation on his food after all. \n\nOnce they'd said their goodbyes, he'd depart. It was only when he was gone that the sleeping man spoke. \n\n\"Who are you, where am I?\" Noctis asked, his eyes opening to reveal that they were a stormy grey, dark clouds gathering with a promise of rain. His voice was more beautiful than elf song, full of emotion and yet perfectly controlled. He did not sit up, but watched her closely with those storm cloud eyes. It seemed he'd been awake for a bit and only been feigning sleep."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the results looked positive and promising, the devotee let out a deep sigh of relief. The strange man was healing rather quickly and seemed as if he was never harmed, truly some divine intervention had taken place. Although the bed was slightly blooded and a small mess was to be cleaned, she turn her attention first towards the scholar. Her face radiating an expression of gratitude and glee, her blue eyes were as warm as a summer sky.*\n\n```\"I thank you, if not for you suggestion than he wouldn't have fully recovered. I am very grateful for your help, truly Calisto send you here as our blessing. I would hug you, but perhaps you'll find that vulgar. Please rest assured that you did more than enough, until we meet again tonight.\"```\n\n*Removing her blooded gloves, she'd speak with a smile underneath her mask. But she would quickly pick up the bowl of cursed flesh, and hand it to the scholar.*\n\n```\"Oh, I almost forgot. Would you like his cursed flesh? For study perhaps? You have more than earned it. Or would you prefer that I keep it in a closed jar for you.\"```\n\n*Almonde asked with a curious expression in her face, she had no idea if he wanted it ot not. But, whatever his request was then she'd do her best to make it happen. Perhaps the cursed flesh of a strange man may be of some use or perhaps it was the dumbest question to ask. The devotee wasn't entirely sure. Regardless, the two would say their goodbyes. Her attention turning to the man who had awaken just as the scholar left.*\n.\n\n```\"I am Sister Almonde of the Calisto Church, Goddess of Health. A devotee and a healer. You are in the Logbringer Tavern in Luminia city. More specifically, you arrived on a tavern table and now you are in my room. You had a broken arm, broken ribs, a punctured lungs, hypothermia and a cursed blade wound. However, you are alive and cured of the curse from what I can see. Yet, I still urge you to rest and recover. You are in safe hands and in a safe place with trustworthy people.\"```\n\n*Almonde took the awakened man very seriously, making sure to explain everything in detail to avoid conflict or a troubled soul to panic. He asked and she provided a clear answer, however the woman was aware that this would only be the beginning of many more questions. The young devotee carefully sat herself on the edge of the bed, her white garbs had a few stains of his blood as she'd speak.*\n\n```\"I understand that this is a lot to take in. Just breath and keep your focus on recovery. How are you feeling? Any pains, discomfort or anything I should worry about? You don't need to explain yourself to me, that's hardly my priority at this time. Oh... And about your armor and sword. I believe a handful of thieves stole it when you fell from a teleport spell?\"```\n\n*She spoke with a soothing tone as her hand rested over her lap, her blue eyes were as soft as silk. Doing her best to follow procedures to an awakened wounded man.*"
},
{
"author": "Ben Koal",
"message": "\"Vulgar no, but perhaps it's a moment of elation on your end. But- good work Sister.\" He'd say, opting to shake her hand instead. He had a gentle grip, not firm but methodical instead. When she offered the cursed flesh he beamed and some of the life came back into him. \n\n\"Why yes I think I will take it. Anti magic items are very rare in Aterna and very hard to make, much less finding flesh that's been cursed by it. I'll report whatever I do find to you of course.\" He said, gingerly taking the bowl from her hands. His crystal eyes thanked her, bright if still liked by dark circles. \n\n\"Till dinner.\" He said, smiling at her and then taking his prize and leaving the room."
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The man who's face must have been carved from marble tilted his head and gazed at her. A follower of Callisto huh? He'd gotten lucky indeed. Really lucky. If her claims were true then his healing had been part of her tenets and he could rest assured she had no other motives. He'd known enough children of Callisto to know that. Breathing out a sigh, he nodded his head. \n\n\"I think I'm fine. No pains, but...\" Something was wrong. He could sense it. Like something was... But he couldn't put his finger on it. \"Well anyways I-\" He froze as she explained his sword and armor were gone. Ebony Rose, the black bladed longsword crafted as a gift from Scipio and his enchanted platinum armor that would never break or give way under any strike. He scowled and shot up, rising to his feet in a fluid motion and then he staggered and slammed against the desk as his head spun. \n\n\"Damn.\" He said and tried to enhance himself to power through the fatigue. That was when he realized the problem. Dread sank into his stomach like a lead weight and he turned to slowly look over at Sister Almonde. His face was as terrible as it was beautiful with its severity, his storm cloud eyes threatened a typhoon. \n\n\"Follower of Callisto- did you have to make any sort of heavenly pact to restore my health? Did you remove my mana? I can't access it.\" \n\nHis magic was gone. Not just that his mana was depleted- he could not feel his magic in the slightest. For the first time in his entire life- Noctis was powerless. He couldn't hold back the thought that he wished he had died from that damned dagger wound."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*A concerned expression could be seen on her face as she'd approach the young man, as he slammed against the desk. Before she could even help or assist, her ears were sharpen to hear the mysterious man speak. He was a mystery and one that any curious soul would enjoy prying, yet Almonde only had on priority in mind. To ensure his recovery was smooth and to assist, restoring him back into his prime. Questions and answers can be handed to more qualified scholars, her eyes turned to the door before she'd place her hand onto Noctis's back. Gentle and soft, attempting to guide him back into the bed.*\n\n```\"Come now, please rest and take it easy. I know a lot is on your mind, but no. I did not use a pact to restore your health. I removed your cursed flesh from your wound and healed over it. I believe the cursed blade may be responsible for your mana loss. We will get you the best help we can, but you must first help yourself. Please.\"```\n\n*Almonde spoke as she'd place her hand over his back and knees, gentky scopping the handsome man up. Carrying him with her arms with some surprising strength, and carefully placing him back on the bed. She'd begin removing the blooded blankets as her voice rang with a firm yet soft tone.*\n\n```\"I will get the scholar to assist you and I will do my best to bring you back to your prime. It's my duty after all. I am aware the loss your sword, armor and mana is painful, but you are very lucky to be alive. You were at Mortem's door earlier. So please rest and rest assured that we will make sure you are taken care of. I only request that you help yourself as well.\"```\n\n*She said as she'd sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the man's chest and eyes. Although, he was handsome beyond description. The stubborn and determined healer inside of her would outshine anything else. Her hand would gently pat the man's chest, as she'd explain what she will do.*\n.\n\n*She said as she'd sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the man's chest and eyes. Although, he was handsome beyond description. The stubborn and determined healer inside of her would outshine anything else. Her hand would gently pat the man's chest, as she'd explain what she will do.*\n\n```\"Now, please listen here. I will wash your wounds and scars. Check on you. You will rest here. You will drink and eat, I will answer your questions. But you will remain here until I bring back the scholar who worked hard to keep you alive. He will most likely be able to assist you. I worked hard to keep you alive and stable. Fret not, okay?\"```\n\n*The devotee had a soft face and expression, yet her words were firm and serious. The healer did not want the man to bring more injury to himself after all her hard work. Although, she was well aware of his confusion, fear and frustration over his situation.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "He'd faced dragons, demons, demigods of colossal strength, assassins and ghosts, Fey and children of the night. He'd fought countless monsters and never not ONCE in his nearly nine hundred years was he as scared as he was now. He felt himself slipping into shock even as she picked him up. Her words washed over him but it was as if someone else was listening. \n\n\"I don't scar.\" He said, as if that had been the only thing she'd said. \"My body won't let me scar- except...\" His fingers drifted to a spot on his stomach. It was true however, aside from blood stains the mortal wound now was not even scar tissue. He was a flawless painting never touched or scratched. \n\n\"I owe you and that Wizard my life, servant of Callisto. Yet that sword and that armor are precious to me, all that I have left. I appreciate the work you did, but the second I have some strength back I'm going after my items. Magic or not I can handle some damned thieves.\" He said, gripping the sheets. \n\nNoctis looked at her again. A plainly pretty woman with a unique shock of hair and a gentle face. He flexed his fingers as he felt the ghost of her touch- so it had been her. She'd pulled him back from the brink. He studied her face for a long time before he spoke again. \n\n\"Shall we eat here then? I might have some coin in my belt pouch.\" He said, reaching into to pull out a golden ring. He turned it over in his fingers a moment, looking forlorn, before slipping it into his thumb. It was quite large. Then he pulled out a golden coin and held it out to her. \n\n\"Should pay for a meal for both of us. The scholar will need rest. Transference like that takes time to recover and some food. I'd suggest taking him some if you feel you owe him any gratitude.\""
}
] | 419.5 | 2,666 |
363.5 | 2023-12-24 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*The devotee listened to his words as she'd learn more about him. Her eyes searched for scars and found none, normally she would be surprised but the man had proven to be very unnaturally perfect at least in physicality, she thought to herself. The woman sat up from the bed, her eyes drifted around her room before bringing the man some water.*\n\n```\"I understand, but your life is also precious. Also, I'm sure a band of adventurers would jump at the chance to return your items to you for some gold or silver.\"```\n\n*She'd say as her tone was calm and soft, watching the man closely. Her brow would rise as he attempted to give her a gold coin. A smile grew on her face as she'd refuse her, as the devotee had a suspicious gaze in her blue eyes.*\n\n```\"Yes, we can eat here. But I wasn't born yesterday. I know the moment I leave this room, you'll be gone and try to be a hero. I agreed to meet the scholar later for dinner, you will join me. Once we meet him, he will help you and study your lack of mana. Once that's in order, then we will search for your items. Is that clear? Because if I have chase you down, I will be very disappointed and carry you back in here.\"```\n\n*Almonde said as she'd cross her arms, growing up on the streets of the capitals provided her some street smarts and a certain amount of boldness. Despite being a caring and soft nun, she is still a human woman that survived the dark streets of a mighty city.*\n\n```\"So keep your coin, you probably want to go on a dangerous and grand adventure against the thieves. I understand that, but we need to be smart about this.\"```\n\n*The woman said as she'd prepare some oatmeal for the man, she was tempted to leave and bring food. But her guts was telling her that the man would attempt to leave and rush to retrieve his items, as soon as her back was turned. She had no interest in putting him in danger, getting deceived or chasing him.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "\"Do you often chase men you just met?\" He teased, looking out the window with a grimace even as his playful words were loosed. Somewhere out there his sword and armor were being handled by... *By who?* Common thieves? Had he really sunk so low? Once others would have trembled in his presence, a legendary demigod none would dare harm for it would incur the wrath of all other 11. Now... He was just another mark, just another fish to gut.\n\n\"I don't have the gold needed to pay someone to get *My* Sword- and I refuse to pay someone to get it. That blade was designed to be held in my hands and my hands alone.\" He lamented, and tried once again to use his magic. Fire, wind, illusions and most importantly, Enhancement all just... Gone. He still had the strength gifted to him passively from years of Enhancement and his own strength as a demigod was naturally higher. Against the common man he'd still be more than enough- but against a foe like *Him.* \n\nHe pictured the dark haired man with his spinning chain and cursed dagger, no magical energy coming off of him whatsoever and full of a monstrous strength. The demigod almost shuddered. If he met that man now- Noctis would be dead for sure. \n\n\"Well I'm starving, so do you have a snack in your bag or something or are you going to make your poor patient starve?\" He said, turning his gaze once more to Almonde. As a Sister of Callisto he was quite sure she would not enjoy or reciprocate flirting, which meant his natural demigod gift of allure probably would have minimal effect on her too. All that to say he couldn't get her to do anything but what she wanted to. \n\n*\"Why can't I just meet someone who's actually affected by my gifts? Wait, did something happen to my face too?\"* His hand shot up and felt his face, checking his jaw and nose to see if he'd somehow gained a squashed new face."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the woman's hands began to work on the oatmeal, she'd turn her attention to the man's words. Quietly listening to his playful words. Although, the devotee had many questions in her head and was even curious about the man's name. She'd hold her tongue, focused on making a hearty meal as her hands brought him a bowl of oats covered with some fruit and honey. A light meal to start off with as she wasn't sure if his damaged ribs left an effect on his breathing, chewing and even eating. She'd silently judge the young man's character as he spoke.*\n\n```\"And, we will find it when you're rested and healthy. If wizards can find the secrets of the universe, I'm see we can find your blade. Now quit your whining and complaining, and eat up.\"```\n\n*The devotee softly scolded the unknowing demigod as she'd hand him a bowl of warm oatmeal, remembering what else she could get for him that would help his recovery. Her expression was soft and warm yet her eyes were oddly firm, like a strict mother almost.*\n\n```\"Now, I am going to bring more food and I will bring the scholar. If I see you leave this bed, I'll make you a poor patient. Understand me, young man?\"```\n\n*Almonde said as she'd lift her finger at the man, she wasn't too happy with the young man. Although, she could understand his frustrations and his stress. The healer placed her foot down when it came to someone's health, even if the threat come from themselves. The devotee began to walk towards the door after having changed his blanket, before leaving to seek out the scholar. Hopefully, he can help the handsome brat when she finds him.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Noctis took the bowl from her and couldn't help it as she prepared to walk away- he laughed. It was a pure sound and yet, it was a master craftsman's bowl that had been cracked and filled with glittering gold. He laughed hard and loud as she called him a young man, as she practically wagged her finger at him and scolded him. \n\n\"Yes Sister of course, I'll be on my very best behavior for you. Don't want you paddling my bottom.\" He said, laughing still as he spooned oatmeal into his mouth. It tasted incredible, he hadn't been this hungry in weeks. He shoveled the food into his mouth so fast it was as if he were inhaling it down into his stomach. \n\n\"Bring good food to the Scholar if you expect him to move- chocolate will be best. It helps recover from transference fatigue.\" He called as she was leaving. The handsome young man seemed strangely knowledgeable about the magic used to help save his life- and spoke of it with a casual nonchalance."
}
] | 398 | 1,454 |
333.666667 | 2023-12-25 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the man laughed and ate his fill, the devotee would softly smile. It was an improvement from seeing a man in critical condition to a laughing boy eating his oatmeal. Although, the devotee did take note of the young man's commanding tone as she'd assume that Noctis was a noble or something of authority, perhaps a wizard like she assumed before.*\n\n```\"Yes, I'll be sure to find some for him. You're quite clever for someone of your age, I'll give you that. Now, I'll be right back.\"```\n\n*Her tone was soft and warm, as a smile had found its way upon her lips. The young woman opened the door, and made her way outside in order to find the scholar. Taking slow steps, her search would peek into the tavern dinner as to see if he had awakened from his nap yet. She began to wonder if she could find any chocolate around here, or if she could find traces of the theives.*\n\n```\"What an odd situation. Calisto bless me. I need your strength.\"```\n\n*She spoke in a mumble, while looking at the smaller crowd. The tavern was filled with the leftovers of a large party and celebration with drunken people asleep on tables, bards counting their coin and barmaids whispering rumors amongst each other.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "\"Well someone of my age should be quite clever.\" Noctis muttered as she left and he turned to gaze out the window. Sister Almonde had a very pretty smile, it made him think of Esme. Nice people that were just... Nice. A very foreign thing. He tried to remind himself it was a very good thing. Yet all that really stayed concreted in his belly once the laughter was gone was bitterness. Somewhere out there his sword was being gawked at by some low life thug and being prepared to be sold off or worn like a trophy unearned. He slammed his fist against the desk in frustration. \n\n- - - - - \n\n\n\n\"Pardon me, but did you ever get the food that gentleman ordered for you? He showed considerable concern, and dare I say, quite handsome.\" A barmaid said as she noticed Sister Almonde come in to the common room. The party had died down some as the sun began to get lower in the sky- the party had instead moved to the streets. The sound of the festivities seemed to crash into the window and seep through the unseen cracks. Lights, both flame and magical flickered, music thumped and people laughed. The world was alive beyond the walls of the sleepy logbringer tavern, which now mostly housed men and women tired from work, enjoying meals and drinks before finding rest and of course- the people who'd gotten too drunk to move and were now passed out in various places, entirely ignored for the time being. \n\nBen was nowhere to be seen and there would be no sign of any of the thieves before, all dressed in loggers clothing or other assorted workers garb. \n\nThe barmaid herself was a woman in her middle years with a plain face and a tightly pulled back bun. Her eyes however were very kind and had the shine of cleverness behind them."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the bardmaid approach her, she'd provide a soft smile as she'd notice a lack of Ben in the dinning room. When she spoke of the food, she wondered where it was. The chaos caused her to get distracted, she remembered that Ben probably had took it with him.*\n\n```\"Oh no, I think he took back to his room. Well, if you like handsome men than I have a little request for you. If you are able and willing, could you perhaps bring some food to my room? A young handsome man is recovering, needs some food.\"```\n\n*She said with a soft tone as she'd make a simple request, the barmaid looked trusting enough and Almonde could kill two birds with one stone. Searching her pockets, she'd pull out a silver coin to be handed to the maiden if she'd agree to it.*\n\n```\"Speaking of that considerable and handsome man, have you seen him? I need to speak to him, have some studies to discuss. Also, you wouldn't have some chocolate around here? Suppose to help with magic and such.\"```\n\n*Almonde said while looking around the tables, clearly looking for signs of where the thieves would have gone. If she was a theft, she'd immediately bolt for the exit and attempt to hide her treasure in a safe place or simply head home. The devotee wasn't too sure on how they will find it, as she was no investigator. Maybe the men can whip up a spell or something, she'd ponder to herself.*\n\n```\"Apologies for the many questions, but I believe my patient had his belongings stolen. Any idea on where I can them or perhaps where I should report to?\"```"
}
] | 349 | 1,001 |
399.333333 | 2023-12-26 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "poetency",
"message": "The barmaid beamed at the initial suggestion she take food to the patient in question. \n\n\"So he survived! I saw his state- he looked right on deaths door. It's a joy that he still breathes, blessing of the sun mother are upon us surely!\" She said, pulling an cheap amulet of Ember from her dress and kissing it. The golden sun Sigil fell back into her bosom and she beamed. \"Consider it done! I'll make sure he eats his fill.\" She said with a twinkle in her eye. \n\n\"Now let's see... Normally I wouldn't give out a customers room but seeing as you two are probably colleagues now and he made the initial move to go to you- well he's on the third floor in room twelve. As for chocolate- that's a considerable delicacy but we have some on stock you can buy from the chef. It'll be a hefty sum if you're willing to pay.\" She said and crossed her arms over her chest. A dark look fell across her face and she shook her head sadly. \n\n\"Youd do well to consider those items lost. The noble Woodland Protectors and Mazikeen have been seeking out that group for over a year now. They're dangerous, bloodthirsty and incredibly elusive. Those who go looking for them usually find a knife in the dark.\" She said gravely. In an effort to change the topic, she beamed and said- \"Let me rush into the back and ask the price for some chocolate! I'll be right back- wait a moment!\" She said, and dashed into the kitchen. In less than a minute she came out, her hair slightly frizzy from the heat of the kitchens and she smiled. \n\n\"A gold for a quarter pound- like I said it's expensive but it isn't a very common thing to just sell alone. Usually reserved for nobility deserts.\""
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*Her smile would grow as the barmaid was more polite than she'd expected, perhaps her nerves were too high of late and simply needed to relax. She'd nod her head as the woman seemed happy that he survived, although Almonde hoped that this information wouldn't come back to bite her. Taking note of the woman's sun mother prayer, silently taking note of the scholar's room.*\n\n```\"Thank you kindly, it would be a great help and I'm sure he'd love the company.\"```\n\n*Almonde said as a polite barmaid might be pleasant company for the grumpy young man, while she could discuss with the scholar. Upon hearing about the thieves in question, a disappointment expression could be seen on her face. Of course, it wasn't going to be easy but surely they'd be able to come to a diplomatic agreement with them, she thought to herself or so she hoped.*\n\n```\"A gold. Hmm, very well. It's small price to pay for his help. I'll take a gold's worth, we will need him at full capacity if we'd to find the thieves.\"```\n\n*Almonde said while searching her pockets for a gold piece, eventually finding it and kindly handing it to the barmaid. Should she gain the chocolate piece then, she'd thank the warm barmaid for her assistance.*\n\n```\"Thank you again, I'll just take this chocolate and feed it to him while you feed the other handsome fella. Oh, a fair warning. He's a bit of a flirt.\"```\n\n*The devotee said with a joking tone, giving the barmaid a fair warning and a smile. She'd begin making her way up to the third floor, keeping a sharp eye around for anything suspicious. Making her way to the room twelve, with chocolate in hand. Her mind pondering on the mystery of the young man, he didn't even tell her his name. Let alone the situation at hand, she'd hope to find more answers from Ben. Gently knocking on the door.*\n\n```\"Ben? It's Almonde, the healer from earlier? I brought some chocolate and some good news. Our man is awake and healthy.\"```\n\n*The devotee spoke through a wide smile.*"
},
{
"author": "Ben Koal",
"message": "The barmaid seemed to gain even more interest in her skirts and her blouse when the information was revealed that he was a flirt. Tucking her hair back in, she'd pass the chocolate along and then hurriedly go to collect food for the previously injured man. \n\nThe hall was quiet as Almonde approached the door, only the faintest sounds of mirth making it through the window panes and the flickering of lights from outside casting long and stretching shadows across the doorways. It was as if the very shadow of Mortem sat in this hall. A *Very* Perceptive Almonde might notice the red eyes that peered at her from a rooftop across the way- but they were only visible for a second before they blinked and were gone. Perhaps they were never there at all.\n\nAt her call, there'd be no answer. There was a deathly silence from within the room. There didn't even seem to be a candle or lantern lit within, it was dark, quiet. The hall itself seemed void of the life that had been present in the inn only moments ago. Was something off, or were the nerves of today causing her unnecessary worry? \n\nIf she'd try the door, she'd find it locked."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As she'd begin making her way to the scholar's room, her gut feeling was telling her that something was wrong. Her perception eyes had a brief glimpse of red eyes peering at her, it would quickly make the woman return to her alert state of mind. Hearing no response to her knocking and words, she began to ponder on what to do. She could return quickly down to check up on the man or the devotee could check up on Ben.*\n\n```\"Ahh... Heavens. Something is wrong. Alright, Ben. Hang in there.\"```\n\n*She said as she'd begin to prepare herself, trying the door, only to find out it was locked. Either the thieves came to search for more treasures to steal or maybe the man's attacker's came to finish the job. She thought to herself as the short woman began to use her strength to kick the door down, kicking just below the doorknob. Trying her best to pick the right position and mark.*\n\n```\"Ben, open up! We have a emergency.\"```\n\n*She'd assume that Ben was either asleep or wounded, the devotee was only comfortable to leave the man alone for a short while. Hence, why she'd begin kicking the door as if her life depended on it. A loud bang followed by a strong thud, she'd even try a long wind up run before kicking the door once more.*"
},
{
"author": "Ben Koal",
"message": "On her third running strike, the door would shatter. However what she might find odd is that there would be a very muffled sound. It was as if the audio had been dampened somehow. As she either tumbled into, fell into or rushed into the room- she'd find the place covered in blood. A very dead Wizard would be against the wall with three men in black cloaks laying dead on the floor around him- his wand missing. \n\nThe room was a mess, however the bowl of cursed flesh was still there. His clothes were strewn about a black briefcase was thrown open- this had been done semi recently. The window was open and yet no sound came from it. Sticking a head out the window one would find that sound instantly hit their ears of laughter and mirth. There was a silencing charm in the room. \n\nBen Koal, former professor at the Magios Academy, had been assaulted in his room for some reason."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As she'd rush into the room, shed be shocked and saddened by the scene. Pausing for a moment as the situation was being processed by her mind, the devotee quickly made her way towards Ben's body with hope that he was still alive. Checking his pulse, confirming his death. Taking note of the silence spell, a powerful counter to wizards and spellcasters.*\n\n```\"I'm... Sorry, Ben. I'm so sorry. May the gods grant you a deserved slumber.\"```\n\n*Her voice would be muffled as she'd speak, walking away from his body and the room. She had no time to investigate the scene, as this could only mean that the man below could be in danger as well. The devotee had tears in the corners of her eyes, quickly rubbing them as she'd bolt towards the exit of the room. Quickly running down the stairs as she'd jump over rows of stairs to quickly arrive on the ground floor. Tears gathering in her blue eyes in each step of stairs was travelled, some guilt began to grow inside of her as she'd drop the chocolate. Was she responsible for this? She shouldn't have sent him into his room while he was weak and vulnerable, perhaps there was something she could do.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Noctis felt the thundering footsteps coming and politely pushed the leaning in barmaid back by the shoulders. It had only taken a few smiles at her for the woman to become entirely enamored. It was surprisingly a relief, he had become convinced that he'd lost all his demigod blessings- however it seemed the Blessing of Masculo were all that remained. His near infinite mana supply as a demigod was gone, but he still had his charm and he still had the base strength that years of Enhancement Magic had given him. It was nowhere near enough to protect him from any powerful mages, but no regular man could stand against him. \n\nEven if he had lost his strength, he had hundreds of years of combat experience. He was a master swordsman and martial artist, and had incredible aim. Blast it all he could pick up a gun if he had to. The idea was sour in his head, it had been so long since he'd ever had to fight at range. \n\nHe was on his feet and had the door opened by the time Garuda arrived. Seeing the tears in her eyes, he placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her into the room, closing the door behind them. The barmaid, who's name Noctis had learned was Cynthia Baylon, was also on her feet and was smoothing her dress with a reddening of her cheeks. \n\n\"Is the Wizard dead then?\" He asked calmly, as he moved the healer further into the room away from the windows with surprisingly strong hands for a man who'd been on deaths door hours ago and then swiftly moved to the window to peer out into the night at an angle. If there were assassins nearby then they could be ready to fire a shot into his throat. \n\nSurely that was it- she had been in a rush and in distress and that was the last place she was going. Unless she'd just received a letter that her husband had left her- which would be entirely impossible as she was a Sister- then all signs pointed to the most obvious. If only he had his damn sword- it always made him feel most comfortable in troubling times. \n\nCynthia's eyes widened\n\nAt his statement and looked to Sister Almonde. \n\n\"What in the world, has there been an attack?\" She asked, her lip quivering as she glanced at the doorways, likely imagining assassins lingering in the shadows, boogeymen in the closest. The food she'd brought had been swiftly eaten apparently, empty bowls, plates and a couple of cups sitting beside the bed."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*With tears in her eyes, she'd arrive on the ground floor. Heart racing, blood pumping and her body temperature rising. As the door was closed behind her, she'd take a moment to breath and clear her mind. Taking a deep breath out, she'd answer the man. Glancing at the window occasionally.*\n\n```\"Yes, surrounded by three bodies and they'd use a silence spell on him. I don't know if it was the thieves or someone else. Whoever they were, they had an idea on what to do. I think they stole his wand.\"```\n\n*Almonde explained in a panicked and saddened tone, she'd quickly begin reaching into her bag. Putting on her helmat and her linen padded armor, after quickly taking off a part of her blue dress. It was an emergency after all, she'd finish up her straps and fitting while speaking.*\n\n```\"I saw some red eyes on the roof aside, if they are thieves than they are on the run if not... I don't know. Take this, Boy.\"```\n\n*She'd finish strapping herself in armor, quickly pulling out an axe intended for cutting wood. Extending it to Noctis, before turning her attention to the barmaid.*\n\n```\"Yes, an attack happened in room twelve. Ben is dead with three bodies with him, it wasn't done by amateurs. Do the thieves always do this? Any place that I can get a sword for this man?\"```\n\n*The devotee said asking the barmaid who was a local and could potentially provide some additional information on the thieving group. She'd lift up her shield and staff, before speaking up to Noctis with determination in her voice.*\n\n```\"Let's go get your sword and armor back, yes? And stop this violence.\"```"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Noctis hefted the axe with ease in his hand- it was a bit heavy on the handle but it would do fine, anything with a sharp edge would do fine for him. Shrugging on his cloak, scanned the crowd outside once again. Why had they gone for the Wizard? That was a question that was yet to be answered, but yes they had been professionals. Still, three of them dead and there had been a silencing charm? Then how had he killed them, unless of course he'd mastered some non verbal magic. Not easy to do but somatic casting was an obtainable feat. Noctis himself could cast with just a thought, something only the greatest Archmagi could do likely. \n\n\"As you command, Old Hag.\" He replied, moving to the door to check the hallway. It seemed clear for now, though something in him told him that something was wrong still. \n\n\"Oh gods! The Black Nights here in this very inn!\" Cynthia moaned, cringing back from the open door. It was obvious that was terrified. \"A-a sword you say? You could likely go to Micheals shop if it's open, you might be able to buy one from him? He sells everything.\" She said distractedly, still trying to process that a man was dead upstairs. Her eyes had a far off look now. \n\nNoctis watched this healer, this small soft woman, become an armored machine of determination. Once again fate had thrown another woman of incredible resolve and heart in his path- he could practically feel the puppet strings of his father tugging at his fate. It made him want to rage. Instead he simply nodded, quirking an eyebrow. \n\n\"The Black Knights?\" He asked, scoffing. \n\n\"Like the night sky, not the armored man. They are said to be as unstoppable as the onset of night.\" She whispered, biting her lip. \n\nSuddenly Noctis perked up. \n\n\"I can go alone if you'd rather not see it again, Almonde, but I think if we got a look at those bodies we could get some clues on where to find this group.\" He said, resting the axe across his shoulders. He couldn't help but stare at Almonde, it was as if some ha\n\nRd and powerful thing inside her had been pulled forth that he hadn't seen before. Now that he had, he was sure he'd never be able to miss it again."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*The devotee was driven and emotional, but she knew better than to let emotions get the best of her. With an attempt at clearing her mind, she'd think over her actions and plans. Her vows were to protect and heal, to stop these black nights would be her duty yet she must concentrate on not becoming another victim of their tactics. These thieves seemed extremely sneaky and experienced, and required a focused mind to stop their violent crimes. She was willing to let the authorities take the lead but after the death of Ben, it was her duty to stop more deaths. It was small window of opportunity as the scene above was fairly recent.*\n\n```\"Micheals shop, got it. Now, Madame. I want you to take a deep breath and keep yourself safe. Find a safe place to hide, maybe bring a few trusted friends with you and stay put. The black nights seemed motivated by profit, so you should be okay. Prioritize your safety first, then that of your friends and then if possible report it to the local guards.\"```\n\n*She would say to Cynthia with a calm tone, explaining what she could do. Hoping a clear plan would keep her safe and to avoid panicking, surely a tavern would have a few guards or bouncers around to protect her. Her attention turned to Noctis as make her way to the door, checking the outside with care as she spoke.*\n\n```\"I've keep you breathing so far, so I don't intend to stop just yet. Also, it doesn't hurt to have someone watching your back. Let's go and investigate.\"```\n\n*Almonde said with a calm yet firm voice, as she'd open the door and began to make her way towards the stairs. A frown could be seen on her face as she'd wonder if the devotee could have armed the boy better. She was tempted to ask the man to stay with the barmaid, but knew that was a fruitless request.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Cynthia shuddered but the authority in the Sisters tone was enough to make her nod. Already she'd made a plan to go and alert the owner of the bar, get it locked down for the night. They had some plans for things like this- sometimes bar fights went wrong and a man was killed, it was rare but it had happened. Never before had it been the cause of the Black Nights. \n\n\"Be safe you two.. And, perhaps...\" She cast a glance at Noctis as if she were going to say more but she caught sight of Almonde again, turned red and ran from the room. She hurried down the stairs and within a minute shouts could be heard as chairs scraped and pots clanged. \n\nNoctis sighed and followed after Almonde, trying his best to check their surroundings. His senses were much, much better than the average man's but with Enhancement he could easily know if anyone was even *Breathing* Within half a block. Now he felt naked, felt exposed. His grip on the axe was so tight that it creaked. \n\nAs they came up to the room, Noctis would let Almonde go first if she tried. He did not want her to think that he did not believe in her- in fact the truth was he was sure she was made of steel. There was a strength in her that few still had. \n\n\"Check their bodies for any sort of markers, identifiers. I doubt they were pocket searched like their target most likely was.\" Noctis said and moved to Ben. He studied the man's scarred arms and hissed between his teeth. \"Hells- these are runic scars. He was a Rune Mage.\" He said in amazement and with a bit of lamentation. \n\nRune Mages inscribed Runes onto themselves so they could cast spells by flooding the runes with mana instead of casting. Explained how he'd killed them without having been able to say anything. Noctis slid off the man's boots to check for hidden notes, but upon finding nothing he took the time to put them back. Then he placed a hand on the man's head and uttered a prayer in celestial, requesting Mortem show this mortal mercy for any crimes and give him b\n\nLessings in his afterlife. \n\nThe man had assisted in his recovery after all. Noctis was good at wearing a stone mask for a face- he wanted these people to hurt. They'd wronged him twice now- rarely did people survive doing it once. \n\n\"Any luck?\" He asked looking over at Almonde. \n\n\nUpon searching them, if she bothered to check inside the lining of the jacket of the middle body- she'd find a metal disk with a strange engraving. It was a macabre design that depicted a symbol used to mark quarantined houses during Great Plague which had killed so many in the Nine Realms. She would also find three throwing knives in ones boot and a dagger attached to a pushing mechanic on another's forearm. \n\nAll of them were men in their *Later* Years, the youngest seemingly about fifty. Each was human, one had the dark skin of someone from Rhakotis. Despite their age they were also in good shape, and strangely enough were all missing their ring fingers."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As she'd take the lead up the stairs, the devotee wondered what the barmaid wanted to say to the young man. A final kiss goodbye? Hoping to meet again after? Clearly, the young man was a charmer to make a woman red faced so quickly. But that was hardly a priority now.*\n\n*Upon entering the room first, she'd take a moment to look around. Seeing Ben dead again would challenge her nerves and focus, but luckily Noctis's voice snapped her out of it. She'd take a knee and began to check the three other bodies. As Noctis began to mention Ben's runes, she'd remember his rune scars on his arms. Hearing him say a prayer for Ben, would warm her heart in such a cold scene.*\n\n```\"I found this metal disk, with some old Great Plague symbol. Think it's plague or some plague spell thingy?\"```\n\n*She'd carefully lift the metal disk as her history knowledge helped her recognize the symbol but the device. Perhaps it was some odd cult or a troubled mockery, she began to worry that these so called Black Nights had an horrible plan in the making.*\n\n```\"Some throwing knifes, an odd dagger with a mechanism thingy on his forearm. They seem less like thieves and more like assassins. All older human men, missing ring fingers. I am starting to believe that these aren't a simple thieves gulid anymore.\"```\n\n*The devotee took the throwing knifes and looked closer at the craftsmanship, perhaps it could help them in some way. Taking a moment to inspect the odd mechanism on the forearm of another, she'd be left puzzled at the scene.*\n\n```\"Why would they want to kill him. If they wanted to steal from him, they could have been sneaky and stole as he slept. I don't understand. Hmm. I think one of them got away, must have been wounded maybe? They could have escaped through the window?\"```\n\n*The lack of Ben's wand would make it clear that someone had escaped. But would it be possible to simply walk out of the room... No there would have been too many witnesses. Maybe he simply went back into his room. Almonde would begin studying the blood trails, checking the window and then searching for signs of an escape.*"
}
] | 396 | 4,792 |
373 | 2023-12-27 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Noctis would study the disk- he'd been asleep when the plagues had happened and he only understood vague stories about them. He felt like a child in the world, he'd have to commit to study the histories at some point. Sighing he moved over to the the dead men and checked their bodies himself as Almonde studied for the missing assailant. \n\n\"Yes, older men indeed. That is peculiar, and human of all things here in Velaris. This is definitely not a thieves guild we're dealing with and yet... Yet all this to rob Noctis and now this man? It didn't make sense. Scrubbing his head, he'd remove the dagger mechanism from the man's arm- it intrigued him and perhaps he could make use of it. He also slipped the loose dagger into his boot. Weapons left behind were a treasure for another and he wasn't exactly armed- he had to take what he could get. \n\n- - - - \n\nMeanwhile Almonde would find that they most likely escaped or entered through the window. There was enough blood splattered around the room to make it hard to determine who had gone where- but no bloody footsteps had been visible in the halls beyond. They were on the third story and below there was plenty of raucous villagers- however the music and distractions would have made it entirely possible to use the window of an inn as an exit and entry point. A torn black piece of fabric drifted in the shingles above. \n\n- - - - \n\n\"Almonde, I think we've gotten everything we can. We should leave this inn and perhaps visit another one, or a shop. Change locale- it'll either force them to move on us or at the least, throw them off long enough for us to track them instead. We know some members may be missing fingers and we should scan older men as a priority.\" He said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. \"Won't do to dwell here.\""
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*Upon finding signs that the surviving attacker had most definitely escaped through the window, she'd carefully listen to Noctis's words. Only confirming her suspensions.*\n\n```\"They had most definitely escaped through the window, they must have been agile and skilled to climb onto these roofs.\"```\n\n*She'd inform the man while eyeing that drifting fabric, whoever they were, they could possibly have a torn cloak. Older humans with missing ring fingers, who used hidden blades and throwing daggers. The duo would get a clearer picture of what to look for. Listening to the man's suggestion, as his hand was placed on her shoulder.*\n\n```\"Let's head to the shop, arm yourself and hopefully lead them away from the tavern folk. Sounds like you're confident that they'd search for us.\"```\n\n*She'd say with a calm tone, while pondering on what the motives were for these black nights. But, that would need to wait. With a firm nod, the devotee would waste no time in discussion and made her way down the stairs with a cautious eye. Checking the same place where the red eyes were, she'd take the lead with her shield up. Should they make it to the ground floor with conflict, she'd be quick to make her way outside and towards the shop.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "Despite the dark turn of events, the night outside was nothing short of beautiful. A painting of the gods displayed out in front of them inappropriately- the stars were brilliantly bright and numerous beyond counting. The tall dense trees of the the Velaris forest were dancing participants in the festivities, fairy lights bobbed and weave in a borealis of color, torches flickered as if jumping along to the tune of the bards which played merrily along through the village streets. It was beauty, it was life- it was a mask the world was wearing on a dark night of loss. \n\n\"Agile indeed.\" Noctis commented as they stepped outside and he peered at the steepled roof of the inn. The inn had been mostly empty by the time they'd come downstairs, Cynthia nowhere to be seen and only a few burly men with clubs around to guard the inns supplies. The demigod found himself thinking about the fact that less than a year ago he'd been here, confused after awaking from an eons long slumber. Now he felt in the same shoes, lost and without purpose once again. As if he'd made no progress at all since he'd left. It made his stomach sour. \n\n\"Come on Almonde, let's get to the shop.\" He said, protectively pushing her gently ahead of him to walk. If arrows were to be fired it would likely be at their back, not their front. The tiny woman was almost humorous to him in her armor, so pretty and soft spoken- yet so determined and brave, eager to help. Truly devoted to her goddess. He wondered if the goddess had any devotion back. \n\nThe shop they sought was not far from the tavern, it was a two story building that seemed rather ramshackle- but in a charming manner. The wood was cracked and splintered but there were no outright holes, the curtains were mismatched and moth eaten but none of the windows were broken and a lantern had a purple flame besides the door, casting an enchanting light upon the place. Within there was the flicker of lantern light, so the business was apparently open with late h"
}
] | 411 | 1,119 |
560 | 2023-12-28 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*The devotee felt a little more at ease now, knowing that Cynthia and the rest of the tavern staff would be in safe hands now. Yet, great shame began to burn inside of her chest. Heavy and warm, she'd hate to leave Ben's body in such a state. He was deserving of more respect, rather than having his cold body against a wall. Flies arriving, felt like an object of now usage. Almonde only knew him for a few moments, but the pain was still strong. She'd snap out of it, as Noctis's voice rang into her ears.*\n\n```\"Huh? Oh right. You know, you should have told me your name. If we're gonna take down a bunch of criminals together.\"```\n\n*In hopes of distracting herself from mourning in a bad time, she'd ask the man's name in a calm tone. It would provide a quick breather for the devotee as they'd make their way towards the shop. Luckily, it was still opened. Her hands began search her pockets, finding a handful of silver. She felt a little silly for wasting a gold piece for some chocolate, then again... It wouldn't be a waste. Her blue eyes expressed a hue of grieve and sadness, luckily her helmat hid her emotions. Looking at the shop, it didn't seem like much... But there was a chance that the thieves sold or hid their stolen goods here.*\n\n```\"Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious, they could have your sword and armor here. If I stole them, I'd hide them in a place like this... Out of view of course and under the table deal.\"```\n\n*Almonde said as she'd stop at the door, turning to look at the handsome man. In this lantern light, she could understand the barmaid falling victim to his charms. But, handsome men were the last of her concerns now. She'd grab the old metal door knob and twist it.*\n\n```\"Try to look around if you get the chance, I'll see if I can distract and question.\"```"
},
{
"author": "Wisteria, Witch of Flames",
"message": "Velaris, home of the elves.\n\nIfrit never thought she'd ever step foot in this place. A land lush in nature, towering with the arts and wisdom of eons ago. The smell of magic could permeated in the air, eyes of villagers and their military everywhere. For as beautiful as the land was, it held just as much dangers. How easy it was for one's secrets to be found out or how easily you could be marked a danger to Velaris if taking the wrong step. She'd always been careful to avoid it. It would be bad for a dragon like herself to be discovered here.\n\nBut then Noctis happened. And that strange message.\n\nA shiver went down her spine and she grit her teeth an anger. Her insides twisting.\n\nShe did not enjoy whatever that was. That strange, disembodied voice of someone she did not know ringing in her mind. A warning, that held no merit, speaking of their crew's captain having been in danger, but alive. In Velaris now so suddenly.\n\nShe hadn't believed it at first, but when she'd searched the last Noctis had been, she found nothing but the carnage of a battle amongst the woodlands. A battle and no sight or scent of Noctis.\n\nShe'd snuck away from the crew to investigate the claim, transforming and flying as fast as her wings would take her. It took no more than a few hours before she'd found herself in Velaris. Her body still ached from her shifting back to her human form, but pressed onwards. If this was truthful, she'd need some answers from Noctis. Maybe smack some sense into him for not getting the rest of the crew involved in whatever trouble he'd been in.\n\nMaking her angry? Worry?\n\nWorry?\n\n*I've barely been on this crew for more than a week and already this captain puts his life in danger.*\n\nShe shut her eye, focused on listening to the sounds around her. The shops and streets were busy with townspeople selling their wares and chattering on about whatever nonsense, but the dragon was all too focused on if she could hear Noctis anywhere.\n\n**\"...To the shop.\"**\n\nA familiar voice pierced through the rabble and noises, making Wisteria turn her gaze towards where the noise came from. Keeping her hood up as she traversed through the townspeople, she ignored the looks she got as she pushed through whoever had been in her way, turning corners and roads until she heard a different voice.\n\n**...Take down a bunch of criminals together.\"\n\nHer eye narrowed, processing what bits and pieces she was hearing. What had Noctis gotten himself into? And so far away?\n\n*He's going to answer when he sees me regardless.*\n\nTurning a corner, the dragon pulled back into the shadows, spotting the fabled man in front of a shop. He was dressed differently than normal. His armor gone, along with his sword. Strange considering he always had those with him. And beside him was someone she could not recognize. A woman.\n\nShe frowned at the sight. He disappears, says nothing, travels partly across Aeterna, and still seems to have time to help some woman in need?\n\nWisteria groaned, staying close tot e shadows as she waited for the duo to go into the shop. \"I think I'm going to kill him myself for having to put me through all this.\""
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "\"My name is Noctis Camille.\" The man responded, his grey eyes still on the rooftops while he pulled the device out from his pocket, the hidden blade. \"I am no one of consequence really, just a traveler right now.\" That was mostly the truth, though on further thought, perhaps it was entirely the truth. Most of his demigod power was gone and his mana was innecassible, he was no longer Noctis of the 11 demigods, he was just... Noctis. The thought made him feel terrifyingly small. It made him furious. As she spoke he turned his head to look at her, glancing from her to the shop and the down at the hidden blade. \n\n \"Would you? You wouldn't be a very good thief, then.\" Noctis said with a dry laugh as he fiddled with the contraption, examining the mechanism that let the hidden blade slide out. It was an incredible device- he wished he'd had it during his time working as an assassin for Scipio. Still one wrong move would slice of his fing- ah. That explained it then. However if he could reverse engineer it so it came out over his knuckles instead, perhaps it would be less effective for assassination but deadly in a straight on fight. \n\n\"As you wish, Sister.\" He said, frustrated that she was bossing him around so much. It had been some time since he'd been bossed around at all. Even during his own time, he'd become a general of war, a hero of the land, an infamous monster- but never someone to be bossed around. He truly was no one of consequence now. He felt alone, tired- had his crew gotten his message through his father? How would they react? They'd been together out of necessity- likely they'd all just scatter again and he'd never see them.\n\nHis mind danced to Eliza and Wisteria. Eliza had been sent away on a mission, he knew where she was and where she would return to, she could be found again. Wisteria however... The strange woman that had found him, the exceptionally powerful fire mage who had an exterior as tough as dragon scales and yet something kind and beautiful hidde\n\nN within her. AH! Eliza, Esme, Wisteria- none of those three women put him in any way capable of thinking of what was at hand. \n\nGetting his damn sword and armor. \n\n\"Check his hands, remember.\" He said, and they entered the shop.\n\nThe shop itself was *Very* Strange. It was dimly lit and had rows upon rows of shelves, strange trinkets lined the wall from broken china to a ships anchor against the wall, to old ratty dolls and stuffed animals and moth eaten dresses. Barrels in the far wall contained swords, spears, staves and other assorted weapons- most looking in a dreadful state of disrepair or looking chipped, rusted and splintered. It was a junk shop through and through, with old farming tools and equipment. \n\nPerhaps Almonde had been right, this would be a good place to take stolen goods. The moment they entered, Noctis began to look for trapdoors as he moved to the shelves to examine the items. \n\nMeanwhile- an interesting sight sat behind the counter. He was a massive man standing at 6'5, with shoulders as broad as they were muscular. His long legs were propped up on the counter and he had an old leather book in his hands- wearing simple and loose clothing. He also wore a black glove on his left hand, his right had all of its fingers. \n\nHowever what was the most interesting thing... Was his face. It was *Horribly* Scarred. His mouth looked slit open, his skin ashy grey, his right eye was burned and a clouded white and his hair a greasy jet black. The man did not speak as they entered, his good eye which was a lovely hazel color, watched Almonde and Noctis closely."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*Upon hearing his name, she'd begun to wonder if it was any history on their last name. As a humble traveler, he had too many oddities to confirm that. His divine features, his body healing unnaturally quickly despite not having lost his mana nor magic. It was clear that he was hiding something, Almonde simply assumed the young man had lost a fight and simply wished to appear mysterious. Yet her thoughts on him were twisted and uneven, unable to truly figure him out.*\n\n```\"Right, Noctis. Just a traveler. What? It's the last place you think, which makes it perfect. I guess it's just a gut feeling, hard to explain.\"```\n\n*The devotee said with a calm tone, the young woman would steal in her youth. Her best methods weren't to run away, it was to act natural and hide in plain sight. The thieves could have safely stored their stolen goods here and went back into the tavern for more goodies to steal, a theft's greed can match that of a dragon. She'd take note of looking at the man's hands.*\n\n*Entering the shop, she'd take a moment to look around. Scanning the wall of weapons, she'd approach the large man on the counter. Upon seeing his fingers were intact, she spoke with a friendly tone.*\n\n```\"Oh gosh, hello! You're a human just like me! I thought the city would be filled with elves. It's lovely to see familer faces around here. Do you sell any cool local trinkets or something I could bring back to the Capital? Oh, my brother is searching for a cool elvish sword but where's the magic in that? Right?\"```\n\n*The devotee spoke with a soft and warm tone, her eyes locking with the eye of the scarred man. She'd lean on the counter while swaying her head, left and right.*\n\n```\"I really like your scars! I bet you fought a dragon or something. You'd be surrounded by ladies in the Capital, I swear!\"```\n.\n\n*The devotee would say in a playful manner, while distracting the massive man. Hoping to get his attention, she'd pull out her staff and began to show it off.*\n\n```\"I recently got this from another store! It wasn't as cool and exotic like this, but its a unique staff used by holy elf clerics. Can you believe that? Do you have anything like that?\"```"
},
{
"author": "Wisteria, Witch of Flames",
"message": "Watching as the duo made their way into the shop, Wisteria silently made her way towards the entrance and opened the door; silently slipping inside and sticking close to th e walls and corners. The shop was dark and held little lighting, the walls and shelves stacked with various rickets and tools that ranged from passable to simply trash yet to be discarded. \n\nAn amber eye darted to where Noctis was; keeping himself busy looking at the shops wares and letting his new companion do the talking. Chatter and nothing more, but from what she remembered hearing from them while searching for Noctis, they were looking to stop criminals? Just what had he gotten himself into?\n\n*Just more questions to get answered.*\n\nDeciding to not let the unknown woman spot her, the hooded Wisteria quietly moved to inspect the wares as a guise, quietly moving closer to where Noctis was keeping himself busy. He seemed focused on searching for something, not even noticing she'd walked in. Normally he was quite intent on his surroundings. And he felt... Off. Usually she sensed some form of power off him. Or some unnatural pull when she looked at him. \n\nYet there was nothing. \n\nSomething was wrong. Much more than just this situation.\n\nStanding but a few inches beside him as her eyes looked to the outside world through a nearby window, she tilted her head towards Noctis, speaking quietly so only he could hear.\n\n\"You look quite busy for someone who's in danger, eh Noctis?\" Wisteria whispered, her tone leveled as her eye moved to look at the man beside her."
}
] | 507 | 2,800 |
493.333333 | 2023-12-29 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The scarred man's hood eye slowly left Noctis and settled on Almonde face. Almonde, a healer and so far exceptionally perceptive woman would find those eyes... *Hollow*. There was not emotion, no disdain or anger, there wasn't even recognition though he obviously saw her. It was as if someone had gone back there and turned off the lights, shut off the brain and just strung him up on strings. His ashy skin was just pale, it was *Lifeless*. He stared at her blankly, **Not** Stupidly, just blankly and then his mouth opened. \n\n\"Are you ready to purchase?\" He asked, his voice lacking any sort of inflection or tone. It wasn't even monotone, it was just a voice without an ounce of humanity in it. \"We have fishing rods on sale today. They are in the left corner.\" Then his eye snapped to the hooded Wisteria and his eyebrow furrowed. His right hand twitched and he simply touched his forearm which was heavily tattooed. Then his hand dropped again and he blankly stared at Almonde. \n\n\"Ready to purchase?\" He asked again. \n\n- - - - \n\nNoctis studied the shelves, looking for bloodied objects, trapdoors, cracks in the wood to see into a back room- anything that would give him a hint that this place was what they were looking for. He could hear the sounds of the party outside, hear laughing and the blare of music, make out shouts. Noctis constantly kept his Enhance going to power his senses because he liked to be entirely and totally aware of his surroundings, he had not been *Surprised* By anyone in a long time- not since Tarin and Noctis had still sensed him within a hundred feet. So when a voice spoke in his ear he *Nearly* Jumped but instead his hand flew to the hilt of a sword that wasn't there as he whirled, sliding back and almost into the wall with one hand raised to defend against a swinging blade when he saw the beautiful and scarred face of...*\"Whisteria?\"* He hissed, glaring at her and looking over her shoulder for Eliza. Sylvar and Valac too of course. Yet the disappointment\n\nThat pinged in his chest was not for the two men he'd taken as tag alongs. \n\nHis hands dropped but his body did not relax, she could be a Skinwalker or a Shapeshifter trying to get in close. Eyes narrowing, he asked softy. \n\n\"In what state do you first find me?\" Noctis wished with all his heart that this was Wisteria, having her would erase so much stress and- then he realized with horror that he was *Entirely* Powerless. Wisteria was a closed book to him but he *Cared* How she saw him and she was about to find him a shadow of the being he'd been before. It nearly made him panic- but then he remembered that she'd found him that way before. When he'd first awoken he'd needed to recover his strength, in a few months he'd been as good as he had been when he first woke up. \n\nWait, WAIT, none of that was the concern. She had been on the fucking *Ship* When he'd fought Tarin less than a day ago. Now she was *Here?* He had to be sure this was her."
},
{
"author": "Wisteria, Witch of Flames",
"message": "An expression of panic. A quick whirl of the body. Reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.\n\nWhatever had happened to Noctis from the time he'd been out searching for food to where he was now really seemed to affect him. Wisteria could tell he was not in the best of sorts. Not enough to be called an insane fool, but befuddled enough that he seemed to have trouble figuring out his next move. Odd considering he normally had plans in place for whatever tricks he had up his sleeve or what task he set before him.\n\nNot to mention a captain without a plan was a poor one at that.\n\n\"Yes, the one and only.\" She answered back with a dry, deadpan tone. She had guessed that he was probably surprised to see her there considering... Well, he had no idea how she'd gotten there so fast. Not that he needed to know. She wondered what was going on in that pretty, little head of his.\n\nAlmost made her rethink knocking some sense into him for this whole chase she'd been forced to go on.\n\nHearing Noctis quietly whisper to her a question, the dragon woman raised a brow at him. He must of thought she. Wasn't really there. A thief in some disguise of a loved one. Or some monster that knew how to trick him.\n\nHe was so close to that truth.\n\n\"Hmm, let me think.\" She said, placing a finger on her cheek as she let the time drag on, looking away from Noctis. \"I'm sure someone would say you were as handsome as you are now when they found you.\" The amber of her eye flickered back to him, a frown on her face. \"Me on the other hand, I remember finding a fool sleeping in a ravine like it was their final resting place. Confused, out of sorts. You were an ass with an ego despite crawling out of dirt too.\" Her eye roamed his figure, getting a better look of what he was now lacking. He really did just look like a pretty face without all his armor and sword. \"You look like shit too. Doesn't seem like much has changed. Only this time I might throw you back in that ravine if I don't get a straight answer as to why I had to drag myself out here to find my *Captain* Who ditched his crew.\""
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As her blue eyes met that of the large man's hallow eyes, she'd sence something wrong. The devotee had seen the faces of hard workers and tired men, broken men even, yet there was something lacking in the man. He was not dumb nor completely lifeless as his gaze held some alertness to them. Almonde kept her smile bright and warm, failing to notice a hooded figure approaching Noctis.*\n\n```\"Oh my goodness, I love fishing. Purchase? Yeah, I'd love to purchase you hahaha. But I'm afraid i can't afford you since you're priceless! Oh wow, I love your tattoos. Do they have some cool meaning to them?\"```\n\n*As Noctis and a hooded figure began to interact with each other, Almonde's attention was on the hallowed man. She'd lean on the counter while putting that metal disk on the counter, using her finges to slide it towards the man.*\n\n```\"Oh, do you also buy things from honest customers like me? Maybe you could store items for little old me? How much would that cost? Or is that a member's only privilege?\"```\n\n*Almonde spoke with a friendly tone, attempting to pry the man before her. However, her ears could hear the voice of a woman speaking. She was sure that Noctis and her were the only customers here. Her head turned to investigate. Upon seeing a scary looking hooded figure facing a stressed out looking Noctis, her eyes would widen with fear. She'd lost Ben, she would not bury another innocent man tonight. Without hesitation or a moment of thought, she'd begin saying a prayer.*\n\n```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, hear my prayer and protect your children, extend your love down to us. Allow us to draw breath with ease and free of danger, as you may.\"```\n.\n\n*The devotee said with a firm tone, her eyes were sharp and focused as she'd summon three barriers to surround the hooded figure. Three magic barriers would suddenly appear around Wisteria, a triangle box to trap her and hopefully give Noctis an opportunity to counter the ambush.*\n\n*Although, she did hear them speaking to each other. It could simply have been threats or Noctis charming his way out of a sudden ambush. They were probably trying to steal his ring, of course! Taking the tower shield on her back, she'd quickly approached Noctis and stood to face the hooded figure with shield lifted.*\n\n```\"Noctis, keep an eye out and snap out of it. They might be using invisibility spells. Quickly, grab a weapon. I'll hold this one down.\"```\n\n*The devotee turned to face the hooded figure, even if she wasn't an older man. The hooded figure was clearly here with criminal intent. Almonde was tense as she'd look around the room for other ambushers. Her grip on her quarterstaff was tight, she'd ready herself for another spell.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "\"I'd prefer you were an enemy.\" He said dryly, his mortal grey eyes regaining their composure. Now that the threat was *Mostly* Gone though that was never a promise with Wisteria, he was starting to get his normal sense of self again. The whole ordeal and being nearly powerless had rocked him but he had hundreds of years of experience to fall back on. He was powerless, not helpless. Noctis had to remember that. He was about to open his mouth to respond to her threat when suddenly... \n\nMagic flared to life around them as a barrier flashed into existence around Wisteria. He was sure that would upset the fire mage, who'd always had a very sharp temper on her. Swiftly he stepped between Almonde and Wisteria, more worried for Almonde than he was Wisteria. \n\n\"I know her Almonde! It's fine, she's a friend.\" He said, holding his hands up. Then his eyes widened and he reacted, lunging forward to shove Almonde aside as a massive gloved hand swung through the air. The strike from the massive shopkeeper hit his shoulder and sent him flying through the window of the shop. \n\n- - - - \n\n\"Magic! Magic! Magic!\" The empty eyed man roared, but again there was no emotion as he raised up his right hand and pointed it at Almonde. Black energy swirled around an extended finger and black necrotic energy blasted in three quick bursts towards her. Whatever was wrong with this man, whatever those strings were- it seemed that he had been programmed to attack if he saw or sensed magic. \n\nNoctis could be seen staggering to his feet outside, pulling the dagger from his boot as two more cloaked figures dropped down from the roof beside him. \n\nIt seemed a fight had begun to brew."
},
{
"author": "Wisteria, Witch of Flames",
"message": "\"You almost sound genuine about that.\" Wisteria countered back, watching as Noctis was beginning to relax somewhat. Whatever had happened to him, it affected his mind in some way. Worry crossed his features and uncertainty was clear in his voice. He was on edge more than usual and he liked his typical overconfidence and charisma.\n\nShe sighed. She'd have to try and be a bit nicer for now. She didn't want to admit it, but seeing him sad made her feel bad.\n\nJust as he seemed ready to answer her, Wisteria tilted her head slightly to the side, looking to Almonde. For just a brief moment the feeling of magic crackled in the air. A casting if a spell, something holy in nature, before a barrier was created around her. She didn't move or flinch, the woman glaring at Almonde from the magic cage she'd made for her. The poor priestess probably thought she was a vagrant trying to bully her poor friend. The same who jumped between them to ensure no fight was about to occur between them.\n\n*I should just break this barrier to give her a scare. Who is this woman with Noctis? She smells human. I sense magic on her.*\n\nHer glare never leaving Almonde, the sudden attack from the shopkeeper rattled the room and the atmosphere, seeing a hand outreached from the owner connect with Noctis who's rushed to protect Almonde. With a heavy crash Noctis was flung through the window, landing somewhere out into the town streets.\n\nNoctis!\" Wisteria grit her teeth, her attention pulled from the unknown priestess to the horrid looking shopkeep. The man, or whatever he was, moved fast. Appeared to not like magic either. Concentrating on her own fire magic to even the odds, Wisteria coated her hand in flames as she punched the barrier wall in front of her with full force. Watching as the flames coated the barrier and brightly burned, cracks began to coat the cage around her as a similarly crashing sound of glass resonated in the shop.\n\nQuickly stepping out of the destroyed magic prison and getting in front of Almonde, Wisteria reached to her belt and pulled out a throwing knife, not hesitating as she aimed and threw the weapon towards the shopkeepers' head.\n\nShe'd have used her fire magic to just burn the man, but too much and it'd cause problems. They didn't need more eyes on them then they already surely did with the noise. \n\n\"Go check on Noctis, priestess! You're in the way!\""
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*Her shield lowered as Noctis mentioned that this was just a friend and not another criminal. The magic barrier began to weaken as it held someone who wasn't a foe, yet it lingered. Before the devotee could speak a single word, she'd be pushed aside. The massive shopkeeper sent the man through the window, she chose the wrong person to trap.*\n\n```\"Wha-\"```\n\n*Her attention turned to the large shopkeeper, who seemed to be cursed. She'd quickly lifted her shield towards the man, as the black necrotic blasted onto the metal. The blows pushing the devotee back and against the wall, yet despite her attacker being ruthless. Her expression was filled with concerned. Upon seeing Noctis's friend break out of the magic barriers with ease, the woman was clearly a mage. Hearing her words, the devotee nodded as she'd grab a sword from the walls.*\n\n```\"Don't kill the man if you can, I'll check on Noc.\"```\n\n*The devotee quickly said as she'd jump through the same window that Noctis was thrown out of, falling with the grace of a Mammoth. The woman would quickly run toward Noctis, handing him the sword as the two cloaked figures came to her attention.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "The massive shopkeepers hand came up and the knife pierced right though his palm to the hilt, the blade only a few inches from his nose. There was no blood that trickled from the wound and he did not seem to flinch from the pain, instead black energy swirled around his right arm and he leapt over the counter to land closer to Wisteria. As she had used magic last, she was now his target. Lifting a hand up, the dark energy exploded out towards her in a wave. It had a sick and deathly smell and was surprisingly powerful, enough force generated to rattle the remaining windows. Footsteps came down the stairs and another man entered the room, his face was covered by a scarf but he had blood red eyes and pale white skin. His head was mostly covered by a hood as well, his clothes black and he had a pair of spiraled daggers in his hands. \n\n\"You smell strange? What are you? Dragonborn in disguise?\" He hissed, his voice like razors as red sanguine energy formed around his body and he speed blitzed to the doorway to block her escape as the massive shopkeep shot wave after wave of dark energy at Wisteria. \n\n- - - - \n\nNoctis, despite having lost his magic, was a fighter with literally hundreds of years of battle experience. His assailants were fast and judging by their pale skin and red eyes, were likely vampires. This was troubling, but he fought with a deadly grace that might not be expected from a man who'd been on the verge of death. \n\nHis knife flashed and parried a sword strike to the side and he twisted into the motion to drive a heel kick into the stomach of the other that had tried to flank- knocking them a few steps back. Then he ducked another sword swing and slashed in a vicious arc upwards and caught their chin, slicing it open. Their blood poured out but the wound closed quickly. \n\n\"Hell.\" He cursed, and had only just blocked another attack with the dagger when Almonde arrived and handed him a sword. That was more like it- but he didn't have a sure fire way to *Kill\n\n* These creatures- not easily. Cutting off their head was the best way to get started, but that was easier said than done when they were empowered by sanguine strength and speed. \n\n\"Holy magic, they're vampires.\" He told Almonde, and charged forward with his sword. However impressive he'd been with the dagger, he was more so with the sword. Unbalanced and rusted as it was, it flashed in his hands like lightning and lopped the hand off an attacker, then in a flourish and twist of his wrist he clashed blades with the other and swept their feet out from under them to send them crashing to the floor. \n\n\"Now!\" He shouted to Almonde, hoping she'd follow suit."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the devotee would get back on her feet, her ears peaked at his words. Fixing her footwork and keeping her attention on the othe attacker that attempted to flank Noctis who sent the second attacker crashing on the floor. With a deep breath, she'd use a command spell on both the attackers. Looking at them as a single magical command was spoken.*\n\n```\"Drop.\"```\n\n*As her divine command was spoken, the fell attacker did not drop his blade however the second attack dropped his weapons. Before he could pick it back up, the devotee began a prayer with a haste.*\n\n```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, Please light our path with the warmth of the sun. Warm and light our skin with your divine light and may you cast away all darkness within us. As you may.\"```\n\n*She'd say a her staff was lifted over her head, with a focused mind, the staff began to produce a very bright light from the end of her staff. The warm divine light turned the dark evening into an afternoon, Almonde's eyes were shut as the light itself was blinding. It was then she began to rush the attacker, remembering where he was and with shield in hand. A shield bash was attempted, her other hand held onto the bright staff while she continued the prayer to intensive and prolong the divine light spell.*\n\n```O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, Hear my prayers and pleads. Forgive those consumed by darkness and hunger, may your light burn their souls clean and pure as you may.\"```\n\n*Her voice was firm and passionate as her eyes were shut, the bright light made it seem like it wasn't night at all. Tavern customers were confused to see the sun rise so soon, the light would peek out of the broken windows of the old shop as the battle between the hooded figure and her attackers continued.*"
},
{
"author": "Wisteria, Witch of Flames",
"message": "A gold eye flared at her enemy, watching as the knife cut through the palm of the shopkeep's hand like butter. No red, no pain, not even a scream.\n\nNo scent of fresh blood filled their air either. They were no ordinary human.\n\nShe knew a retaliation would I be coming, but when she saw that dark magic formed, Wisteria quickly brought her arms up to protect herself and willed mana to flow through her body.\n\nShe didn't know what such magic did. She had to be cautious.\n\nWhat had been normal human skin shifted, cracks along the surface of her arms as flesh morphed and darkened; transforming into hardened scales that coated up her arms. She ignored the pain and the blood that seeped from the fresh wounds, gritting her teeth as the dark magic from her opponent slammed against her and pushed her back against a wall.\n\nShe huffed, shaking the blood and burning sensation off her arms. It smelled of dead flesh, the magic having no sense of life to it. Heavy like a fog, draining like the eerie sense of death.\n\nShe was readying herself to move, but stopped at the sound of other footsteps. A figure walked downstairs to their commotion, face covered and eyes blood red. He questioned what she was, so close to the truth before moving with inhuman speed to block her exit and thrust more dark magic towards her.\n\nShe swiftly moved, ducking beneath the junk that littered the shop. Lighting up fire magic once more, she shut a ball of fire at the new enemy, glaring at him.\n\n\"That is none of your concern.\" She hissed back. He could smell what she was. This was bad.\n\nShe let out a heavy breathe, an old familiar ghost of flame rattling through her rib cage and lungs. She had planned not to use fire magic, but they were too close.\n\nThey'd both have to die. Burn them until nothing just ashes remained.\n\nLanding in a corner, Wisteria breathed a heavy breathe before letting out a feral roar, fire from the lungs of a dragon bursting from her throat towards the man blocking her exit."
}
] | 484 | 4,440 |
528 | 2023-12-30 | GuildTextChat | [
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "As the divine light sizzled at the skin of the vampires and blinded them, Noctis took advantage of it and keeping the light to his back so it didn't blind him, descended on the other vampire with a twirling blade. In seconds the vampires head rolled and unable to rejuvenate- was dead. They slowly began to turn to dust as the other vampire was knocked off balance by Almonde. Noctis was quick to intercept him and slice the others head off as well while he was blinded and weakened by the divine rays. \n\n\"We should go back in and help Wis-\" He said, turning and then raising his hands up as red hot flames billowed in the door way, causing a wave of heat to wash over the pair of them. \n\n- - - - \n\nThe red eyed man watched her rear her head back and his eyes widened, he dodged but not fast enough. Screeching, he slashed and his burning left arm fell from his side, the dagger it held clattering to the floor. Now the doorway was ablaze and burning with dragon fire- hotter than hot. The wood snapped and popped and the glass creaked in the remaining windows as heat pressure built in the room. \n\nWhile Wisteria had been focused on the man in the doorway, the hollow eyed man had moved. In two long strides he'd crossed the distance and thrown a **Vicious** Haymaker at her head with his arm wreathed in necrotic energies and if she dodged that, his gloved left hand would fire off from his wrist to grab at her ankle and catch her off balance, attempting to pull her feet out and crash her to the floor so that the red eyed man who had now appeared around the other side of her in a burst of sanguine speed- could drive his knife towards her chest with his remaining arm. \n\nDespite her strength, these two were coordinated and wielding magical powers of their own. \n\n- - - - \n\n\"Fuck!\" Noctis said, and seeing the door blocked by flame, would hunch his shoulders and dive through through the window. It sliced him up, but he didn't care as he threw his sword at the red eyed dagger wielder to distr\n\nAct him and give Wisteria and Almonde a chance to act."
},
{
"author": "Wisteria, Witch of Flames",
"message": "\"Shit!\" A painful searing sensation coated her throat, the remnants of fire and smoke still bellowing in her lungs. The pain was unbearable and made it hard to breathe each ragged breath, but Wisteria didn't allow herself to collapse or fall to such creatures. She was stronger than this, in human form, dragon form or otherwise. She'd rip these beings from limb to limb if necessary.\n\nWatching as an arm of the red eyes figure burned off from her dragon fire, her eyes darted to where the other was; spotting as he took little time to close the distance. A heavy punch was thrown her way, reaching back by holding up her clawed and scaled arms to block the punch from hitting her. Unlike the last attack, she was stable and stood her ground despite the burning cabin around them and the weakening wooden flooring. \n\nHowever the sudden grip of her ankle destabilized her, the dragon woman feeling her knees buckle from being pulled by her enemy's own detached hand. Crashing to the burning floor, Wisteria spotted the other injured man above her, dagger in hand as he swung down at her.\n\nTime slowed. She needed a plan. She could dodge, but her other opponent could probably block her from getting up. Kick her head if she tried to move any further. Stopping the knife wood put her at a stalemate, but again the one eyed man could use his death magic on her as she was incapacitated. She'd need to make room away from him and injure the red eyes man at the same time.\n\nHer fire had already done enough damage. Another burst could do the trick.\n\nShe could survive the blade. It'd be painful, but she could burn the injury closed after. There were enemies to burn.\n\nBracing herself for the stabbing, a pained cry rang out as she felt the blade of the red eyed man's weapon pierce her chest. She debated if such a wound was as painful as the many burns she'd received.\n\nNo. That fight with that ancient dragon had been more painful than anything she'd ever received. This was but an annoyance.\n\nThe red eyed man now in her line of sight, the dragon woman reached a clawed hand to grip around his wrist which held the dagger piercing her body; the other reaching to have an iron grip on his upper arm. She glared at the red eyed foe in her grasp, eye flickering to the other gray skinned man behind her. The one on her grasp would burn to ash with what she had in store? The other other was close enough that he wouldn't come out unscathed. If she was lucky she could kill then both in one burst if she used enough of her dragon flames.\n\nShe was already exhausted the first time. But if it killed them right away...\n\nShe smirked at the red eyed one above her, almost having a sadistic glee on her expression. \"*Burn*.\" \n\nAnother deep breathe and the semblance of cinders appearing from her mouth; followed by powerful flames that ragged once more. This time at point blank range at the red eyed man; his cohort close by to at least be locked by the dragon flames."
},
{
"author": "Sister Almonde",
"message": "*As the final vampire attacker would met his end by Noctis's blade, the light began to quickly fade away and Almonde was left exhausted. Letting out a deep breath, as she'd quickly scan her surroundings to ensure that was the last of their attackers. As Noctis spoke of his friend, the red flames began to feed on the old house. She thought of different ways to help but was interrupted by the sounds of glass breaking.*\n\n```\"Oh for Calisto's sake!\"```\n\n*The devotee said as she'd quickly make her way towards the window, getting on her knees. With her staff on her forehead, she'd make another prayer. Focusing on a mass healing spell, as the two could potentially benefit from Calisto's blessing.*\n\n```\"O Merciful Mother of Health and Vitality, hear me and hear our cries of pain. We burn, bleed and cry for you and your blessing, please share your embrace with us. Grant us your love. As you may.\"```\n\n*Almonde would resite a powerful prayer, as the area around her would begin to pulse. Everyone nearby would receive a divine blessing and a healing pulse that stayed with them for a short time. Both Noctis and Wisteria would find their burns and wounds healing quickly with an divine rush pulsing within, the effect would not work on the vampire or the undead shopkeeper.*\n\n*The devotee was beginning to weaken slightly, as she'd struggle to stand up quickly. She'd lean into the window to scream out, the reminders of her spells and exhausting herself more. She'd yell and scream a divine command to the two attackers.*\n\n```\"Grovel!\"```\n\n*There was a chance that the attackers would grovel onto the floor for a brief moment, but if their will was strong enough than they'd be able to completely ignore the command. The devotee held herself on the window edge while putting her weight on her staff, deeply regretting that she didn't know any water spells. Her eyes searched for a moment, to ensure a safe exit for the two. An old home like this could easily fall onto them.*"
},
{
"author": "Noctis",
"message": "*\"What kind of creature are you?!\"* The red eyed man hissed as he futilely tried to wrench his remaining arm from Wisterias grasp. He might as well have tried to pull the ground out from beneath a mountain for all he could have done and in that final moment his red eyes widened in fear as flames billowed up in her throat. Then that fear turned to spiteful hate and his gaze flickered up to the hollow man, the shopkeep. Sanguine energy shoved the shopkeep back a couple of feet and then... \n\n**\"AAAAIIEEEEEEEEEGHHHHH!\"** A terrible, ringing and agonized death screech as the flames incinerated the man until there was nothing but ashes- only his hand and legs remained and those were slowly fading into the ash of a vampires death. \n\nThe hollow man did not raise a hand against the heat, did not even flinch as the blazing inferno roasted his seeming companion as it missed him entirely. \n\nInstead he fired another dark blast point blank at Wisteria and was about to unleash more when Almondes magic activated. It did not have an effect. Whatever the reason, strong will or perhaps... His will was already not his own, he turned towards her and charged. He was *Fast*, faster than a man his size should be as his hand retracted to his body and he came closer, raising a hand to blast her with dark energy while the other ripped a burning board free and raised it high to smash into her side- but Noctis tackled him into the burning wall. \n\nThe two crashed against it as the dark energy flew past Almonde, then he ducked as the shopkeep swung at him, drove two fists into the man's kidneys for no effects and was backhanded so hard he went sailing across the shop to crash into the shop counter. Noctis groaned and staggered to his feet, glad he'd been healed before by Almonde. \n\n\"Get Wisteria up, we can't fight him in here!\" He shouted, and charged the massive man again. He'd already seemed to have disregarded Noctis as a non threat and was getting ready to attack Almonde again, but like a feral p\n\nUppy against a mammoth, he tackled again. He punched and struck and scratched at his eyes- dodging and weaving counter attacks and distracting the massive man to give the women a chance to escape the now raging **Inferno** They were now in. The stairs had started to catch fire but were not engulfed and there was a window that was partially blocked a fallen cabinet that was in fact engulfed in flames."
}
] | 512 | 2,112 |
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