|
|
| (16 intermediate revisions by 2 users not shown) |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| − | Maura Arnickles Renodin
| |
| − |
| |
| | {{LeftTOC}} | | {{LeftTOC}} |
| | + | {{Infobox CharData|4|8535}} |
| | [[File:Maura.jpg|300px|thumb|Maura Arnickles Renodin]] | | [[File:Maura.jpg|300px|thumb|Maura Arnickles Renodin]] |
| | + | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | <br>
| |
| − |
| |
| − |
| |
| | == Description == | | == Description == |
| | | | |
| | Her face resembles a sculpture in a way that it barely ever shows emotion and remains motionless most of the time. Her left hand lacks a thumb, the clean scar ending in a bump is barely visible. She is roughly 6'2" and of athletic build. Unless in battle her movements appear slow but by no means sluggish. | | Her face resembles a sculpture in a way that it barely ever shows emotion and remains motionless most of the time. Her left hand lacks a thumb, the clean scar ending in a bump is barely visible. She is roughly 6'2" and of athletic build. Unless in battle her movements appear slow but by no means sluggish. |
| | | | |
| − |
| |
| − |
| |
| − | ***
| |
| − |
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| | | | |
| | == The Slave == | | == The Slave == |
| | | | |
| − | Lorem ipsum sid alequam
| + | Maura was born and raised in southern part of the Desert of Silhouettes. At the age of 15 she was imprisoned and enslaved by a Fellish Earl, who through mental torture and manipulation forged her into a perfect guard for his ward. |
| | | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| | | | |
| − | {{Infobox CharData|4|8535}}
| + | == [[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/The_Captain|The Captain]] == |
| − | | |
| − | == The Captain == | |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| + | Maura was a guard to Jarra Bennet back in the vast plains and serene riverlands of Fatexna. When Lady Jarra came of age, she decided to make a name for herself and travel to the wild and mysterious lands of Beluaterra. Maura of course accompanied her, now as a captain of the Blue Fist - a finest unit of warriors Earl's money could buy. |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | "Asset?! Asset?!" - Jarra shouted hysterically towards her captain who hadn't had the opportunity to explain that she's neither her chamber maid nor her scribe - "You believe this Maura? I may be young, I may be inexperienced, but I am a lady, you can't call a lady rear end names!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "M'Lady" - Maura struggled to talk through the noble girl's most excited jabbering - "that word has nothing to do with your noble behind"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "It doesn't?" - Jarra paused suddenly calm.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "No m'Lady. It means something or someone of worth."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Oh." - noble girl took a moment to think - "I take it you haven't sent the previous letter?" - Maura just shook her head, so Jarra continued - "Good! Burn it please. Now write another one."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "M'Lady I'm not a scri..." - Jarra didn't let her finish the sentence, dictating loudly:
| |
| − | "Grandmistress, Noble Lords and Ladies..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | <br/>
| + | == [[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/The_Lady|The Lady]] == |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Letter from Goriad II Gabanus
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra, noone is good at their first attempt, but a willingness to learn is most important of all. Throughout my life I have hunted many things. Gold and slaves when I led one of Talerium's raiding armies into Minas Leon, men themselves, both on and off the battlefield. Many a fool in the colonies laid awake fearing I would hunt them, and for many that turned out to be true. Now on this island we have a lot of monsters and undead to hunt and target, and they posess a unique experience on their own as no single beast is perfectly the same, but they do often share similar flaws.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Join me in kjelegy and I assume we'll march north tonight. Although it will be a battle more in the open, I'll show you how hunting is applied even on and off the battlefield.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Goriad II Gabanus<br/>
| |
| − | Knight of Rines
| |
| − | |}} | |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Letter from Jarra Bennet
| + | More than three years have passed since Margravine Jarra died tragically. Maura, defined by her relation with her lady, suffered immensly from the unfortunate event. During that time she acquired several addictions, more than several scars and unexpectedly - a noble title. The last one with the help of her distant (apparently) relative - Astros Renodin. Whether a valid noble claim was recognized or legends of noble ancestors were blown out of proportion remains anyone's guess, regardlessly - once Maura became a recognized noble, so did all her kinsmen. |
| − | | |
| − | Sir Goriad,
| |
| − | | |
| − | I am on route to Cjelegy as I write this letter. I am most eager to meet you, from what I hear you're very... I can't even find a proper adjective.
| |
| − | | |
| − | I don't understand what you mean by hunting men, do you mean fighting them on battlefield or do you mean it literally?
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra Bennet
| |
| − | Dame of Athol Margos<br/>
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| + | == [[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/The_Inquisitor|The Inquisitor]] == |
| − | | |
| − | "Mauuuuraaa..." - calls Dame Jarra - "Mauuura... eek!" - she exclaims startled as she turns around to see ebony black face of her captain.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Yes m'Lady?" - Maura responds hiding annoyance as best she could.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Maura, have you seen any loop snares when we were in Rines? Perhaps hidden on a crowded marketplace?" - young lady asks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "m'Lady?" - puzzled look of the captain clearly sought for clarification, instead Jarra continued:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Are there even human-sized loop snares?!"
| |
| − | |}} | |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | <br/>
| + | Two shi*s describe this chapter of Maura's life: <br/> |
| − | | + | - Hers - she got together.<br/> |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| + | - Heretics' - she scared out of them.<br/> |
| − | | |
| − | "So you're saying that when the Blue Fist smashes the Daimons or undead, or whatever we're fighting right in the face, they will already be scattered due to many volleys of arrows, and I will be behind the line anyway, so no need to worry, right? Do I follow?" - Jarra asked her captain curiously but then noticed that she's distracted with neighing sounds outside and soon shifts her attention above Jarra's shoulder to the entrance of their tent.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Young Lady swiftly turned around and scanned the visitor with her eyes. It was a cloaked man, roughly twice her age, dressed in dark colours. She then turned back to her captain and said:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Maura! I told you already not to receive your scouts in my tent! I just had my boots cleaned. Do you know how hard it is to clean the mud off lamb leather?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "But m'Lady, he's..."
| |
| − | "Yes, I'm sure he's very capable scout, he certainly looks very imposing, but he would be equally capable outside, I believe?" - Jarra cut her off in mid-sentence, but Maura continued persistently:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "M'Lady, what I wanted to say is that he is a nobleman. Sir Goriad II Gabanus, I believe." - to that words Jarra suddenly envied her captain's strong, motionless, dark effigy of a face, for she felt the skin of her own face getting as red as the finest Nothoian wine, radiating heat in the process, and her eyebrows twitching uncontrollably.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "That's preposterous, how would you kn..." - now she didn't get to finish the sentence as her captain cut her off:
| |
| − | "Our scouts don't use horses for the same reason bandits don't use horses - too expensive to purchase and too expensive in upkeep. And certainly neither our scouts not the ones of other Lords would use deception to get into our camp, common men get beheaded for such tricks. Altough not of the finest silk, the cloak of our guest is very well made and dark, inconspicuous clothes for a noble who wants to travel all by his lonesome are much better choice than a blue dress..." - saying that Maura looked at her lady making sure that she didn't caught the allusion and continued - "As for the precise identity of our noble guest - only Sir Gedrid and Sir Goriad are roughly that age, and Sir Gedrid is presently in Avengmil. It's all common knowledge to noble commanders and their captains." - saying that, Maura bowed slightly towards Sir Goriad II and finally let go of the hilt of her scimtar, making Jarra realise that she was ready to unsheathe it the second she heard the horse outside.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Young Lady exhaled, still facing away from Sir Goriad and after a couple long seconds turned to face him:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Sir Goriad. How splendid to finally meet you in person. Your letters suggested that you'ra a rather extraordinary person, but I failed to imagine quite how extraordinary in fact. Please take a seat."
| |
| − | Jarra waved around and shouted some commands, having wine, cheese and fresh fruits fetched, while Maura had guards posted outside the tent, leaving her lady and her guest to their privacy.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | <br/>
| + | ==== [[Grey_Knights|Daimonhuntress]] ==== |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| |
| − | | |
| − | Few were the books and scrolls but many were the faithfull. Scarce was the stained glass, statues and decorations - spirit and piety were abundant. How strange is this temple - Jarra thought - how unlike the ones I've seen before. She felt not the true calling, she was unsure if she'd recognise the true calling if she felt it but she was certain that the fiery zeal of the Inquisition and pious devotion of the Heralds were not what she felt. Neither could she compare the disposition of her heart with the blazing flames of extatic crowd she saw in front of the temple nor with the smoldering embers of those she noticed meditating silently in the corners.
| |
| − | It may have been ambition that brought her to Beluaterra, it was apetite for adventure that brought her to Athol Margos; was it the need to fit in that led her inside this temple? Was it her purpose when she decided to join the Heralds? Certainly! But it wasn't her sole purpose. She did felt the need to define a cause and goal of her existence, and not just one of this hideously carneous plane but one of more etheral and perennial nature as well. And she felt it long before she entered the temple in Rines. "Feeling comes with understanding, not the other way around" - she recalled one of the very few lessons her cousin ever gave her.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Standing before the administrative clerk of the church with enormous tome of names in front of her certainly wasn't the way she dreamed of becoming a believer, yet her shy nature prevented her from asking for a private audience with the Oracle. Given name, family name, origin; given name, family name, origin; given name, family name, origin... Many rows had empty place in the middle column, those were mostly scribbled with crooked letters. The rows that had all position filled in were calligraphed beautifully.
| + | ''Maura takes the reign of the new joint venture of the Inquisition and the Templars - Grey Knights, Daimon Hunters.'' |
| − | | |
| − | "This is the register of faithfull, tome 11th, m'Lady. To officially become a Herald you need to have your name written in the register, though many nobles don't bother to do it personally. Then you will need to swear to serve Obeah, embrace her magic and renounce daimons and all things evil. Her Holiness haven't blessed us with official statement of faith yet, so you'll need to speak in your own words. It's intention that matters."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra took the quill and wrote "Jarra Bennet, Flowrestown, Dwillight" then glanced as her captain scribbled clumsily "Maura, Desert of Sillhouettes, Dwillight" leaving the family name column empty.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Now" - she said, looking at the tiny collection of scrolls she noticed in the temple - "where can I learn more of the Obeah?"
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | <br/>
| + | == [[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/The_Leader|The Leader]] == |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra sat in her room flipping a small blade in her fingers, less and less clumsily each time. The room was not much, as was the hut her captain requisitioned from some local peasants when she got injured. It was certainly better than the tent. She immediately rubbed the little star on the side of her forehead and went back to that battle in Avengmil with her memories - her first battle scar.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The seven feet tall beastman, covered in fur, limping from the vicious blow of Maura's scimtar, left behind the line of her infantry unit, assumed to be dying... she then felt so adventurous - what wrong could happen, he's facing away from me and is already dying - she took an enormous swing with her pernach, jumping a bit in the process and heard someone shouting "NO!" - whose voice was that? - she thought as she saw her mace flying right back at her face after bouncing off the thick hide of the beastman that apparently decided to posture up just as the pernach was about to hit him. Afterwards she only recalled blue sky, beastman's head flying somewhere above her, some arms picking her up and then darkness.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The reverie was interrupted by Maura entering the room. After some routine reports Jarra asked about Goriad II, who was now a Lord of Ajitmon and Marshal of Inquisition. Upon learning that he's still unconscious and reminding herself that it was her mistake that cause his injury she enquired: | |
| − | | |
| − | "Do tell, dear Maura, are there any scattered groups of those beastmen still in Avengmil?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We've counted signs of presence of four small groups m'Lady, as soon as they stop hiding our army will dispatch them with easy." - Maura replied.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "That won't be neccessary. Ready our men, fetch my horse, we're moving out."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "M'Lady?" - Maura asked, looking at her lady's forehead as if trying to decide if she's still a bit shaken from the injury.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Akkan's tongue Maura! It's not alchemy, we outnumber them ten to one. Have our scout track the beasts, we'll improvise from there."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Yes m'Lady."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura departed as Jarra hid the small blade back in her hair-knot. It looked neither as neat nor as insconspicuous as the first time because the trick wasn't as easy to apply as it seemed but it was constantly improving.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| + | Maura becomes the Marshal of the Enlightenment, Margravine of Rueffilo and Grand Inquisitor. <br/> |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra was just reading the scroll with Sermon in Keffa when a heavy knock on the doors was heard. She turned her attention to the entrance and when it opened two infantrymen could be seen, not ones of her own - this much she could tell by the lack of blue gauntlets. She turned her attention back to the reading at hand and after a short while her captain indicated that those men were Forest Hunters and forwarded a message that Lord Goriad II is requesting her presence.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra's reaction was ambivalent, on one hand Lord Goriad was trully extraordinary and after events in Melegra and on their way to Ajitmon she was certain that if there was adventure to be had in these wild lands, there's neither better nor safer place to have it than close to this inconspicuous noble hunter; on the other hand however she was certain that the man didn't became who he became by exercising forgiveness and mercy, and she did cost him a pound of flesh. Was it a misplaced letter or a misunderstood order? She couldn't recall, perhaps it was all because of her own injury - she pondered, rubbing the little red star on the left side of her forehead.
| |
| − | | |
| − | There's no point in guessing with that man, he could call me to rearrange my hairstyle for all I know - she thought to herself immediately moving her hand over to the "hairpins" in her hair-knot, even though fewer than originally they still weren't so neatly arranged.
| |
| − | | |
| − | After half an hour of dressing up and making arrangements she stormed out her hut and not a minute later she was already mounting her magnificent destrier. Silly choice - most would think - for someone so poorly armoured, courser would be much more suitable. But ever since her adolescence in Fatexna she had a way with beasts and whatever natural advantage she possessed she was never shy to use it, so she took the strongest, fiercest, most ferocious beast she could find.
| |
| − | | |
| − | On her way to Goriad's camp she encountered Maura and a dozen of her men escorting several peasants. Two of her men she noticed hauling firewood behind the squad, another two carrying big wooden logs. One of the captive peasants was shouting:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "No tribute to false idols! No tribute to false lords!
| |
| − | The true lord comes from the portal
| |
| − | to visit mortal plane
| |
| − | true lord really is immortal
| |
| − | his power never wanes!
| |
| − | NO OBEAH, NO OBEAH!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra stopped to enquire about the scene:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Heretics?" - she asked and Maura nodded in response - "What will happen to them?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "They will be sternly reprimanded." - Maura replied - "Most of them will have to pay fine, double taxation. The most vocal one will be flogged."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra seemed satisfied and continued towards Goriad's camp, deliberating - why would my men carry the firewood? Why wouldn't they have the peasants carry it for them as part of the punishment? Oh, nevermind, it's not even that cold tonight.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Upon arriving young Lady was met by Sigmund, who had apologetic face while motioning towards his Lord's quarters, she couldn't understand why untill she entered... whatever she was expecting, it wasn't that.
| |
| − | | |
| − | During the long silent seconds Jarra's eyes opened as wide as her facial features allowed. Her slightly opened mouth wanted to form a proper greeting but could only mutter out:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "L-Lord Goriad..."
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Jarra Bennet
| + | ==== [[Heralds_of_Obeah/Portal_in_Rines|Portal in Rines]] ==== |
| − | | |
| − | "Obeah guide us.
| |
| − | Obeah teach us.
| |
| − | Obeah protect us.
| |
| − | Obeah deliver us.
| |
| − | In your light we thrive.
| |
| − | In your mercy we are sheltered.
| |
| − | In your wisdom we are humbled.
| |
| − | We live only to serve. Our lives are yours."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra said the words over and over again. There, in the dark corner of her bedroom in Riverside Manor, dimly lit by withering embers of the hearth, Maura found her. She pondered getting her attention with her usual "M'lady", but hearing the whispered prayer she decided to touch her arm instead.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Lady Jarra" - she said quietly, and took a step back noticing her lady's shining, watery eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I can't feel it Maura." - said young Margravine - "I believe it with my mind, but I can't force myself to believe it with my heart. I choose to believe it, but it should never be a matter of choice! How am I to take on priestly robes?! How am I to serve Obeah and fulfill my duty to the Holy Realm? We both know I am not a warrior. I'm neither as crafty as Goriad, nor as experienced as Lord Vahanian, neither as dutiful as Marshal Solomon, nor as Grandiose as Grand Templar." - she angrily motioned to the star-scar on her forehead - "I injured myself when hitting a half-dead beastman!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | She took a deep breath and Maura pounced on the occasion to speak:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "M'Lady, there are members of local minor gentry, as well as carftmasters of Rueffilo, leaders of stonemason guilds of Rii and representants of farmers of free lands of Bolkenia and Cagamir."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jarra cleaned her eyes and asked what is the purpose of such colourful crowd visiting her estate, to which she received an explanation that the stonemasons refuse to deliver stone, making construction of the temple impossible; southern peasants inform that any attempts to invade their lands will be opposed; craftmasters have thousand ideas to spend the gold from Grand Templar's gift and local gentry still favours Angmar and Spearhold and demands that war be stopped. Jarra's eyes grew wider and wider with each sentence. Maura demanded some instructions with polite "M'Lady?". Jarra simply shook herself from all the noise she already envisaged in her mind and pointing at the set of stylish, hairpin-looking daggers on her dressing table she said:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I think I will have to do my hair."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ...
| |
| | | | |
| − | A couple of hours later the stone transports for the new temple were flowing, the craftsmen were leaving content and southern peasants reassured. Only the local gentry left still grumbling about the state of affairs. Jarra fell to her chair, exhausted.
| + | The Oracle - Rania Eastersand JeVondair works with Grand Inquisitor, her agents, Grand Templar and one other peculiar character, in order to exploit Portal energy for her own reasons. |
| | | | |
| − | "Quite a feat you've achieved here m'Lady." - Maura said, and hearing her lady muttering out confirmation, she continued - "And you haven't stabbed anyone."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "Just barely." - She replied.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "As if what you did you did by divine inspiration." - Maura continued.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "Obeah works in mysterious ways." - Margravine said absentmindedly, to which Maura smiled - a most rare occurance - and replied:
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "Indeed she does, m'Lady..." - and to a realisation dawning on Jarra's face she reiterated - "Indeed she does."
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| − |
| |
| − | == The Lady ==
| |
| | | | |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| − |
| |
| − | {{Quotation|'''The Party at Gildre Estate'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | ***
| |
| | <br/> | | <br/> |
| | | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| + | == Journals == |
| | | | |
| − | ''A messenger approaches you and hands you a black and red envelope.'' | + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_party|Obia'Syela Gildre Party (March 2018)]]''' |
| | | | |
| − | Nobles, Lords, and Ladies of the Sacred Obia'Syela,
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_march|Obia'Syela March/April 2018]]''' |
| | | | |
| − | It is my esteemed pleasure to finally introduce to you, the Lady Jessica Gildre of Rines.
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_may|Obia'Syela May 2018]]''' |
| − | | |
| − | You are cordially invited to a courtly evening at her Lady's estate in the Grand Temple District of Rines.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A dress code shall be in effect. Personal weapons are permitted, however, nobles are restricted to a one-man entourage. Security of the event is guaranteed by the Gildre Estate!
| |
| − | | |
| − | Lady Jessica will be most honored to reveive your attendance!
| |
| − | | |
| − | Please have your scribes direct any questions to myself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Bryant,
| |
| − | Master Scribe and Chief Attendant to Lady Jessica
| |
| − | Care of,
| |
| − | Lady Jessica Gildre
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Alacrix Galar''' | |
| − | | |
| − | Tonight was the night of the party. Alacrix was excited. The past two years have become a blur of swords, blood, death, and some fell monstrosity trying to eat him. It's been to long since he last went to party. Lately, during the quiet moments he found that he often reminisce about his former lifestyle of being a wastrel. He missed laying around and not worrying about defending people, or seeing good men being masticated by one horror or another.
| |
| − | | |
| − | With that Alacrix vigorously shook himself. Tonight was a night of celebration and being in a joyous mood. He dress in his finest. A cream colored jacket with a wine red vest and a matching large wine red hat with a even larger cream feather. Looking at himself in the mirror he had to admit that he looked stunning. With that he left for the party.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Bryant stepped onto the balcony, dressed in a fine burgundy coat with a frilly white shirt poking out from underneath. His hair was slicked back and his goatee trimmed cleanly. He placed both hands on the railing and looked down at the nobles and lesser nobility which had gathered in the courtyard of Gildre Estate. The Temple of the Veiled Goddess loomed adjacent to the estate, dwarfing it in it's magnificence.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The buzz of conversation slowly died as nobles began to notice Bryant on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. As silence fell, he stood up straight, and took a deep breath.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Nobles of the Sacred Obia'Syela," he enunciated loudly to the gathering below, "It is my personal pleasure, after several weeks, to finally introduce to the court of nobility, the renowned Lady Jessica Gildre!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Theatrically, Bryant took a step to the side and backward, bowing with a regal flourish of his arms. From the darkness of the balcony, Jessica stepped forward and delicately rested a hand on the railing. She wore a midnight black gown which gave off the odd sparkle as light glinted it in the right way. The dress followed the shape of her body to the floor and trailed. Her neckline plunged to her waist, and sleeves reached her wrists. Her fire red hair was pinned back from her face, and shone brightly with her green eyes in the light of the wall sconces.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Silently, she raised one hand and nodded to the assembled crowd, and then withdrew back into the manor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Buzzing talk resumed immediately from the nobles as two servants pulled the large double doors open, allowing access to Gildre Estate.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | You have been informed that Gildre Estate consists of the following areas:
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Dining Hall - A magnificent great hall with a massive oak table running along the length of it, down the center. Chairs have been removed for the purpose of the party, but the walls are lined with benches. The table is laden with delicacies, and servants port carafes of wine to and fro. There is much room for mingling, and a minstrel plucks at a lute in the far corner.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Parler - A great room with a roaring fire. Plush chairs, couches, and chaises fill the room. One wall is dedicated to bookshelves, and a large tapestry depicting an ancient battle adorns the other.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Gardens - A well manicured garden lies out the rear of the estate. Lanterns are hung throughout, and servants patrol the pathways to quickly serve thirsty guests.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Training Room - Jessica has had the cellar converted into a training room. There are racks of blunted weapons, a padded section of floor for grappling, and various bags for hitting.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Kitchen - Where the food is prepared. It is dirty and full of commoners. A noble would have no interest in such a room.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Goriad II decided it would be interesting to'speak' with Jessica again. Afterall she never did answer his last question and he had become curious.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As such he called Sigmund to make his way to the manner. Even though he was regent and once more the Grand Herald of Obeah, he did not wear any fancy clothing. In stead he put on a black cloack, a thin one considering the time of year, but still concealing two of his curved sandblades and some daggers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Some hours later he finally arrived at Jessica's manner and when the guards first saw him they almost wanted to stop the brigant untill Sigmund walked ahead of him "The Regent of Obia'Syela," and when Goriad II lowered his hood they decided to announce him with full title. Goriad II didn't bother to wait for them however and simply walked in "They know me, no need for the shouting," he said halfway through the titles, interrupting the announcers. "Now where is Jessica?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica sipped from a glass of scarlet wine, listening absentmindedly as several highborn merchants prattled on about some sort of invested interest that they thought Jessica could profit greatly from. She didn't pay them any heed. She had little doubt she was already the richest woman in Obia anyways. The pompous merchants could probably learn a thing or two from her, although she assumed from their large waistlines that they could not accomplish the feats she could.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The Regent of Obia'Syela, Lord Goriad II Gabanus!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jessica heard the porter call out the introduction, and looked towards the entrance. She saw Goriad II entering, wearing a simple dark cloak. Whatever her other feelings, she at least appreciated his style. It seems she shared more... traits... with Goriad II than simply a style sense.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Rudely, she turned her back on the conversation the merchants were having, and plucked another glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant. Her dress shimmered subtly in the torchlight as she strode towards the Regent. She offered the glass of wine to him as she idly pondered whether a Priest of Obeah consumed alcohol or not...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | When Jessica arrived with the whine Goriad II smiled for a moment: "I don't drink my dear, I leave that to the fat pompous nobles and the fools. I do quite like wine though, I find it often loosens the tongue and also makes for far easier targets."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He then accepted the glass and took a step closer to Jessica and softly whispered: "I've been in for but a moment and already learned that that fat merchant you were talking to over there has a rather 'playfull' wife and he doesn't know. It also seems she controls most of his spending. If need be I'm sure you could 'convince' her to pay for some of your expenses here if you provide her with some discrete entertainment."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He grinned as he made a step backwards. "Now you still owe me an answer I believe from the palace. How did you lose your tongue?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I've been in for but a moment and already learned that that fat merchant you were talking to over there has a rather 'playfull' wife and he doesn't know. It also seems she controls most of his spending. If need be I'm sure you could 'convince' her to pay for some of your expenses here if you provide her with some discrete entertainment."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jessica looked at the merchant Goriad II spoke of and frowned. She looked back to Goriad II and smirked and shrugged. She held up a hand and rubbed her fingers together, and then patted where her pockets would be.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Now you still owe me an answer I believe from the palace. How did you lose your tongue?" he prodded.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jessica's smirk faltered, and she took a long drink of wine. She placed the empty glass on a table and looked at Goriad II. She held her hands in the shape of a triangle on top of her head for a moment, then made a quick stabbing motion. She then closed her eyes and frowned, and opened her hand to let the imaginary dagger fall. She then held her wrists together in front of her. She made quick cutting motions across her body, then made a pinching motion in front of her mouth and drew her hand away from her mouth slowly, and with her other hand made a slow sawing motion in front of her mouth. She then threw her hands in the air, and swept them broadly before her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Finishing her tale, she looked around. She had acquired a small audience. She looked back to Goriad II and raised an eyebrow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Goriad II had also noticed a small audience gathering about them. He had put his host in a delicate situation but he didn't care much about it. Maby may belief however that he did as Goriad II responded by placing himself in a most delicate position. He gave the still full cup of wine to Sigmund and proceeded by removing his cloak. Underneath it he was wearing little on his upper body other than two shoulderplates and a strange looking breastplate shaped like a triangle with two circles on his breast with some sort of rounded sticks pointing to each other.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was only when Goriad II took hold of both handles and pulled them that it became clear what the purpose of his armor was. He pulled out two curved blades, one with a red diamond and the other with a blue one worked at the top of the hilt which had been hidden. The could took a few steps wondering why he would draw blades at this party, but he gave one of them to Sigmund and used the other to draw attention to what was a large scar running from his bellybutton to his right chest. As the blade hit the old wound Goriad II bled slightly and smiled. "My first on this island. The Templars could not hold the line, so we had to hehe, didn't we Sigmund." His companion laughed as well "It was a good hunt milord."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Goriad II then moved the blade to his left arm which was filled with scars and other signs of old wounds. "My uncle, he raised my sister and me and was rather strict with our training. The Great Warlord King against two kids, it showed me the cowardice in 'great' man. His smile went to a grimace shortly only to return to a vile grin as he moved his sword to the back and turned around. It showed a back filled with uncountable scars. So many it became difficult to determine what caused them. "I still aim to repay him for it," he said with that same grin.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "None of these scared lambs understand true power, they think it resides simply in the sound of a title and the tip of their swords. They don't understand true strength, but you do don't you my dear?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He now pointed his sword, still covered in his own blood at her mounth: "Strength is in what they took from us and put in its place."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica locked eyes with Goriad II for a staying moment. Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and she breathed a quiet, sad, sigh. She brushed the blade away with the back of her hand, and as she did so she painted a smile on her face and turned to face the gathered crowd. Quickly she curtsied, then bowed theatrically.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She spared one somber look back at the Regent, then allowed herself to be absorbed into the chattering throng of nobles.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Unmoving shape stood before the Book of Names in the Temple of Rines. A dark statue with eyes transfixed on a particular page. However magnificently the temple has grown since her last visit, however the city has changed - it was all meaningless. The creature in the temple had a habit of focusing on one thing at a time and the thing that had her undivided attention at the moment was the line in the book: "Maura, Desert of Sillhouettes, Dwillight" with a blank place for the family name. She was pondering if she should complete the signature or strike it through entirely. Her shadow moved quarter of a circle as she remained motionless in deep thought, all the time not daring to bring her eyes one verse higher.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A couple of cautious coughs behind her back seeked her attention.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "What is it?" - she asked.
| |
| − | "My lady, there is an invitation for a celebratory event in the manor of Lady Jessica."
| |
| − | | |
| − | As if waiting for a proper excuse Maura dropped the quill on the book, not making any decision.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Later in the evening
| |
| − | | |
| − | Managing to slip past the gates without much of an introduction and attracting any more attention than the necessary minimum, Maura went straight to one of the servants with the wine cups. She immediately downed one cup and grabbed two more. Then meeting a displeased gaze of some fat highborn merchant she took a measure of the surroundings for a brief moment and blinked with satisfaction when she decided upon her destination.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A while later she entered the kitchen and sat on a stool, sipping from one of the winecups. Startled household servants looked at eachother, when Maura said to noone in particular:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I will sit here."
| |
| − | | |
| − | One of the kitchen wenches said with a trembling voice:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "My lady, I-I, d-don't think..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I will sit here." - Maura cut her off, ending the 'conversation'. The kitchen staff resumed their work, altough in this situation unwillingly they paid more attention to a noble in the room than to the job at hand, in effect working more slowly and causing many minor mishaps, like mixing up some drinks and miscooking some dishes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Alacrix Galar'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Alacrix was chatting with a rather sweaty merchant. The man was telling him how much he enjoyed the party. Apparently he had arrived early and proceeded to enjoy the fine wine that Was provided. The man was telling about one very fine wine that sadly was finished when he saw Regent Goriad II and Dame Jessica in a conversation. He politely excused himself and made his way over to the increasingly growing crowd.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Regent Goriad was bare chested and displaying countless scars. Alacrix was rather fascinated by them. He did not know much about the new Regent but he was shocked at the impressive sight. Then the Regent withdrew one of his daggers and proceeded to slice open an old wound. Alacrix heard several gasps and seen many looking very interested in their drinks. Alacrix though called not look away. There was a lesson here. Some sort of insight to a man he knew almost nothing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Alacrix saw and listened to everything the man had to offer. He talked about true power and wondered if he meant Obeah or magic. As the Regent pointed his blood covered sword at Dame Jessica, he knew that he had to talk to the Regent. Alacrix had been meaning to talk to him for some months now on the nature of magic and possibly get another pamphlet from him. Alacrix still had the first that was given to him by the man when he first became a lord.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Alacrix stared at the scene and also resolved himself to talk to Dame Jessica. She is a very interesting woman and she was kind enough to invest in him for the war. He would have to thank her for that. With the downing of his cup of wine he fortified himself to meet the most unsual people he would probably ever meet.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul made his way to the Gildre estate. He wore his battle plate, burial mask and a black cloak. He took care to disguise a few of the Daimonic symbols he hadn’t removed from his armour with his cloak.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Gildre estate was finally reached, and Gythrul quietly cursed that he had received the invitation late. He entered and took in the dining hall. He quietly cursed again when he recognised Goriad. And again when he remembered that Goriad was Regent.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The porter opened his mouth to ask Gythrul his name. The Wraith shook his head and walked straight past.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He saw Goriad pointing a bloodied blade at woman, with a open wound on his torso.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was interesting for the Wraith. The whole affair was. He stood just behind Goriad, silently observing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica leaned against... some odd decoration that Bryant had placed in her parlor while several nobles of lesser station chatted away. She nodded with pathetically-veiled interest, not even bothering to look at them. Two of them, recognizing that they were being ignored, abruptly picked up their drinks and stalked off. A third remained, standing awkwardly next to Jessica. She looked at him and made a drinking motion with her hand, then waved him away.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As the man left, Jessica felt cool glass press into her free hand. Bryant, having appeared from nowhere, let her take the glass of wine. "Maintain your composure, m'Lady," he chastised into her ear quietly, and then continued on to supervise the servants. She made a grotesque face at him as he disappeared into the crowd again, but none the less she stopped leaning and stood up straight.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She took a welcome sip of wine and looked around. Boring people doing boring things and... She narrowed her eyes, glimpsing around a woman to see a man in a black cloak, wearing some sort of wrappings on his face. That was certainly a bizarre outfit.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Curiosity lit her eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Alacrix Galar'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Alacrix sees Dame Jessica walking away from the Regent. He was unsure who to approach. Since the Regent was right there he decided to approach him. With great respect and a little amount of fear he approached the Regent. "Regent Goriad II, I am templer Alacrix. I want to thank you for that pamphlet that you gave me a couple years ago. I was hoping you may be able to answer a few questions. If you are not to busy."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica seemed to look Somber to Goriad II's surprise. "It seems she has not yet accepted faith, Gilly would have put her lips on the blade and drank the blood" he thought to himself as a smile appeared: "Then again she is the most wicked one I know. Where would she have gone?," he continued to wonder.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then suddenly a young nobleman who looked familiar approached him and introduced himself as Alacrix. "A Templar seeking my guidance? Interesting," he thought before he answered him. "Ofcourse, my knowledge of Obeah is yours. What questions do you have?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | In the meantime Goriad II took his cloak again and once more covered his scars.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul watched the red-headed woman walk away. He now knew where he recognised her from, she was Jessica Gildre. He recalled seeing her at the Astros incident.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He went after her, trying to track her through the group of nobles. He had almost given up when he saw the sparkle of her dress.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He navigated his way through the group, seething with resentment at the pompous crowd. He would have put them to the sword had he the influence. He would have punished them for their blindness to Truth. Would have.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He was stopped by a woman. She looked forty winters old and wore finery that marked her a wealthy merchant. He murmured a curse that would have caused the Inquisition to drag him to a cell had they heard it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Wraith clenched an armoured fist in anger.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “My Lord, I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Alyianna, a member of the shipping guild. And you are?” The woman asked, Gythrul opened his fist and clenched it again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “The Last Tongue of the Gods.” He rasped, quiet enough to be unintelligible, but loud enough that the woman could hear him say something.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He began to turn, annoyed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul contemplated speaking to Goriad, but decided against it. If he wanted to continue where he had left of, the Regent would have to come to Gythrul.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He made his way to the parlour, glaring at the lesser nobles and merchants trying to get his attention. They were pompous creatures, though some had the look of warriors. These nobles received a polite dismissal.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A large tapestry caught the Wraith’s eye and he moved to it, studying it intently.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Sitting in the kitchen Maura downed one cup after another, getting more drunk with every passing quarter-hour. From time to time the sounds of the party and chatter of the kitchen staff found their way to her ears: laughter, music, gasps of shock, "... half naked...", "... bloody dagger...", "... magnificent dress...".
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then - on a verge of drunken stupor she heard an all too familliar voice - sitting on a kitchen stool, really Maura?
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You... I... I am perfectly fine right here." - Maura replied.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Getting drunk on wine in the kitchen?
| |
| − | | |
| − | "It's a perfectly good wine."
| |
| − | | |
| − | I could hazard a guess that it would taste much better when shared with a fellow noble.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Fellow nob- you see? I don't belong here, I can't mingle. I would make a fool of myself."
| |
| − | | |
| − | You silly goose! Of course you won't belong anywhere just hiding in the kitchen! Now stop moping and get out there! You at least ought to introduce yourself to the hostess. Besides, I think I saw batter-dipped lychee in the dining hall, you had a face of a ten-year-old the first time you tasted it, remember?
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Our experiences of being a ten-year-old are vastly different." - Maura said with a hint of a mocking smile on her face and continued - "I'm still not convinced, I... I don't think I deserve it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Well, now you have no choice dearie - you've been talking to yourself for the past five minutes. It will be much more embarassing for you to stay here than to go out there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Akkan's arse!" - she cursed in half-whisper and seeing the servants even more confused than when she arrived, she swiftly stormed out the door, bouncing off both sides of the door casing in her drunken gait.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Pay compliments to the host..." - she thought to herself when scanning the room. It took her a little while to identify the noble most oftenly consulted by the master of ceremonies - a red haired woman in a magnificent black gown. Maura's eyebrows involuntarily rose half an inch when she compared it to the rusting, fur-padded chainmail she was wearing. The pinch of embarassment sobered her up a little bit. She took a couple of seconds to pull herself together and begun a slow but intent walk across the parlour, towards the lady in the black gown.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Divus Lancaster'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Divus had never really been one for parties. Large crowds not all pointed in the same direction overwhelmed him some, and the thought of having to converse with his peers in the realm was a daunting thought. While he certainly had something to say about military fortifications, or the best position to set up an ambush, the thought of discussing art or music or whatever the other nobles of Obia'Syela was a bit frightening. In truth, he most likely would have skipped the party if his path didn't lead him to Rines anyway on the way to Avengmil.
| |
| − | | |
| − | While his captain Luitpold secured provisions and a few extra men, Divus decided to venture over to the Temple District in the city, invitation clutched in his hand. While he did not know the host, he surmised that most of the nobles of note in Obia'Syela were given similar invitations. Once more, a new Regent had been chosen, and he felt it would be rude to ignore the event altogether. Perhaps stay for a drink or two, he thought, as his horse trot up the cobblestone road.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Already night had fallen in the city, but there was a lively and joyous atmosphere. While on the road to Rines, Divus had wondered how those nobles who were more religious than those in his home country would party. To his surprise, the din of the party grew as he approached. The sound of minstrels and laughter floated down the lit streets, commoners idling outside their homes and shops trying to soak up the atmosphere. They parted for him quickly enough and before too long a servant was taking his horse as he stepped into the party itself.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The initial room was so bright that Divus stood there frozen, blinking quickly in an attempt to adjust. All around him were other nobles in various states as they spoke and danced. Although no one was paying him with any significant interest, Divus still felt as nervous as he did on the eve of a battle. Adrenaline coursed through him as he entered the party in earnest, nodding at those who met his eyes. He had no idea the proper social courtesies in a situation like this in Obia'Syela. On the road, and in the small towns, things were much simpler. Mercifically, a servant walked up to him holding a tray of cups.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Wine, my lord?" The servant asked, not meeting Divus' eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Thank Obeah," he replied, before taking a cup and downing its contents in a single gulp.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Divus grabbed another cup before the servant departed, but this time elected to savor its contents, at least for a little while.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Around him were some of of the minor members of the nobility, dressed in colors he did not recognize. Every once and a while, though, he spotted someone or a group from a great houses. Their clothes a shade finer, or their entourage a few people larger. In an effort to get a closer look at what he thought were some of the high ranking Templars, a woman dancing bumped into him. The wine threatened to tumble out of his hand, but he quickly recovered before more damage could be done. The woman had fortunately not fallen, but had stopped to catch her breath. She wore a green dress, with red hair tied in a tight bun behind her head. Her cheeks were rosy, and Divus could tell she barely saw him through the fog of the drink.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I am so sorr-" he began, before the girl was off again, rejoining the dance. Divus sighed and finished his drink before looking around for another servant.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Obeah, help me," he thought, as the minstrels played on.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Pushing forward through the hall in unnaturally straight line only a drunken man can be determined to maintain, Maura narrowly avoided bumping into an imposing knight clad in full-plate armour. 'So I'm not the only one to wear armour to a social event' - she thought to herself, regaining some of her composure. Her optimistic train of thought was cut short by disturbing gaze of the knight slowly creeping up from behind his mask, prompting her to continue on her way sparing no haste.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Finally she reached who she assumed to be the lady of the manor. "LADY JESSICA!" - she said a fair bit louder than she intended and bowed in exaggeratedly ceremonial way, nearly losing her balance. "Maura Arnickles Renodin, at your service."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "LADY JESSICA!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | The shout made several guests jump, and Jessica quickly turned in surprise. Before her stood a young warrior she had never seen before, clad in armor. Quickly, she spared a glance back at the masked man who was currently admiring the massive tapestry on the wall, then turned back to the loud woman just as she continued.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Maura Arnickles Renodin, at your service."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jessica broke a small smile and inclined her head towards the woman, but paused and raised an eyebrow at the warrior when she spoke her family name.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Seeing her interlocutor's surprise at the name, Maura just waved her hand in the air and doing her best not to slur the words she said - "Yes, there is some relation, but forgive me, the ins and outs of our pedigree are a bit too hazy for my not entirely sober mind."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Careful not to make any blunders, Maura adopted a tactic to swiftly change subjects, not allowing for any of them to linger for more than a minute. A socialite trick she learnt from the most adapt courtly noble lady she knew. That particular trick never failed her, altough admittedly it wouldn't have much chance to fail her, since she never used it before.
| |
| − | | |
| − | After a quiet couple of seconds Maura said, noting Jessica's wordless welcome: "Person of few words, I see? I don't mind, I'm a taciturn creature myself..." - and raising a cup of wine she commented - "... takes a couple of these to get more than one sentence at a time out of me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Proud of her social skills she changed the subject again:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Quite a gathering of peculiar characters you have here, my lady." - she half-whispered in conspirational tone and subtly indicated the masked knight with her eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica nodded, and also looked towards the masked man. Her brow narrowed slightly. Was he familiar to her? How could he be? He was wearing a mask. Still... there was something...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Quickly, Jessica looked back to Maura, smiled, and raised her glass towards her. Then she took a long drink of her wine.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul was aware of being watched. He turned slightly and saw two women out of the corner of his eye. Lady Gildre and one he had run into earlier.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turned on his heel and walked over to them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Lady Gildre.” He rasped, bowing slightly. “It is an honour to meet you under more favourable circumstances. I am Gythrul Attano.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turned his head to regard the stranger.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “I don’t believe I am familiar with you, My Lady. You are?”
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | “Lady Gildre.” He rasped, bowing slightly. “It is an honour to meet you under more favourable circumstances. I am Gythrul Attano.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jessica's eyes widened as the masked man spoke his name. She stumbled backward away from him and spit on the ground. Frantically, she looked for a weapon, silently cursing the dress.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Desperately, she pulled a fire poker from a rack beside the hearth and spun back to point it at Gythrul. She heard Bryant let out a shout at her disturbance, and within a moment several guards charged into the parlor. They looked for an enemy, confused, and only found Jessica pointing the fire poker at Gythrul, her hand shaking visibly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "Lord Gythrul, I am pleased to meet you. My name is Maura Arnickles R..." - she got interrupted by the hostess of the evening pointing an improvised weapon at the newly met knight. She swiftly unsheathed her scimtar only to be reminded that the handle lacks a blade, making it completely useless in fight. She immediately sobered up, internally cursing the lapse of attention. Even unarmed she still instinctively stood next to Lady Jessica in defensive stance and asked: "M'Lady are we in peril? Is there an assassin behind that mask?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul chuckled as Jessica brandished the fire poker. It was an unpleasant sound, a skeleton laughing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Lady Gildre. My reputation appears to still be strong. I wonder if it’s Keffa or my actions in general that has provoked you.” Another chuckle. He turned to Maura.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “A pleasure to meet you Lady Maura. Fear not, I am only the Last Tongue of the Gods, Defiler of Keffa and Apostate. I served the Daimons during the ‘Invasion’.” He explained, eyeing off the guards.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “This show of force is quite unnecessary, My Lady.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica looked around frantically. The guards just stood there, not moving. Other nobles were looking at her with odd expressions.
| |
| − | | |
| − | What was going on??
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Cousin!" a voice from the crowd commanded, "Settle your arm. Danger does not face you here tonight."
| |
| − | | |
| − | From between several nobles Sir Lavitz entered the room. A hush fell on the room, and Jessica stared at her cousin, mouth agape in surprise, exposing her stump of a tongue. Lavitz had not been seen for months, since before Jessica had landed on the shores of Obia. He had been locked away in his estate, deep in meditation and prayer. He had grown a long, unkempt beard and wore simple brown robes. He moved forward to stand next to Gythrul.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "There are forces at work here of which you have no knowledge, cousin," he said to her, "The Oracle and the Inquisition have their own affairs in his matter. Trust that is taken care of... even if I do agree it is troublesome to have one as Damned as he in our midst."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Jessica shook her head. She wanted to scream. Her face was red, and tears welled in her eyes. She grasped the poker with both hands, trying to stop her hands from shaking.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | 'A daimon servant in the holy realm? Is he mocking us?' - Maura thought.
| |
| | | | |
| − | "Sir Gythrul, a splendid joke, as we both know if that were true statements you would be enjoying Grand Inquisitor's hospitality by now." - Maura said, not entirely convinced with her own words. There 'was' something disturbing about this man but she couldn't really put finger on it.
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_june|Obia'Syela June 2018]]''' |
| | | | |
| − | She said: "Good jesting knight, why don't you take off your mask, so we can all feel more comfortable?"
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_july|Obia'Syela July 2018]]''' |
| | | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus''' | + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_august|Obia'Syela August 2018]]''' |
| − |
| |
| − | After finishing his conversation with Alacrix (Ooc, hope we can finish it. Long live time warp) Goriad II was drawn to a scene elsewhere in the room. Guards were rushing in and there was talk of a fight.
| |
| | | | |
| − | He arrived just after Lavitz did, in time to see Jessica's shaking hands pointing the rod at a man in armour and a mask. He was about to interfere untill he saw Maura's large posture. It was unmistakable as there were few women of her size. "You!" He said as he gazed right into Maura's eyes "I searched the whole south for the two of you, where is she?"
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_september|Obia'Syela September 2018]]''' |
| | | | |
| − | He did not pay heed to the man Jessica was pointing a weapon at and as such was even unaware of who he was. With all the guards he figured the man could be no real threat.
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_october|Obia'Syela October 2018]]''' |
| | | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| + | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_November|Obia'Syela November 2018]]''' |
| − |
| |
| − | Shifting her gaze from Gythrul to Jessica and back again a couple of times Maura was oblivious to the gathering around them and whom it was composed of, until a certain voice shifted her attention entirely. A voice that also shifted her posture from battle-ready to completely defeated. "You!" - a shout sounded, shortly followed by the sharp sound of the bladeless handle of her sword hitting the stone floor. Maura knew to whom the voice belonged and whose stare will her eyes meet. "Grand Inquisitor" - she whispered looking straight at him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I searched the whole south for the two of you, where is she?" - said Goriad II.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura failed to hold his gaze as her eyes fell on the floor and she said in complete surrender: "she's with the Veiled Goddess now."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Maura did not meet his gaze and said: "she's with the Veiled Goddess now."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Goriad II shook his head "Impossible, none of us can reach Obeah's world, not untill we weaken the veil between our worlds."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He paused a moment to let his words sink in and then continued: "What happened to her?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Jessica looked disbelievingly between Lavitz and Goriad II. She then turned her glare back to Gythrul, threw the fire poker on the ground, and stormed from the room.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "Impossible, none of us can reach Obeah's world, not untill we weaken the veil between our worlds,” said Goriad II. A moment later he asked: "What happened to her?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | To the theological remark Maura replied - "That may be so..." - and shook her head, whith her eyes still motionlessly transfixed at the useless clunker of a weapon dropped to the floor, and continued - "... after all she was the one to read all about our faith, not me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She calmed her voice before answering the question - "On our way between Bolkenia and Cagamir... Jarra died." - the name of her friend was heavier than the cornerstone of the building in Maura's mouth and her vocal chords were heaving it with equal amounts of shame and pride.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Goroad II heard some noise beyond Maura but did not pay attention to the other conversation being held.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "On our way between Bolkenia and Cagamir... Jarra died." She had said. "She died?" he said, "She died how?" He continued and before Maura could reply he went even further "She died and you survived?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | He moved further towards the tall women and lifted her chin with his hand. It was a strange site as the women was taller and bigger built than he was. "Look at me," he finally said "HOW?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "She died?", "She died how?", "She died and you survived?" - Regent's questions were increasing in intensity. To the last one Maura only thought 'I'd prefer I didn't' but chose against saying it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She reached back into tormenting memories from over a year ago and winced from non-physical pain as she started telling the story:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We were scouting south, en route from Bolkenia to Cagamir. We were just passing by the ruin of a bridge to sunken Eno when we got into an ambush. It was only a group of bandits hoping to get easy profit, they likely mistaken us for trade caravan. When they realised their mistake we've already dispatched two thirds of them and caused the rest to retreat. The fight wasn't challanging, but it was enough to distract us, enough to realize a minute too late that a greater foe scented us out. A pack of beasts not unlike wolves, just bigger and fiercer charged us. We barely had time to form a phalanx. We were holding our own but unlike us the beasts weren't tired and their feral stamina could have them going all day. Jarra looked at me, I shouted an order to pull back to the ruin of the bridge. With twenty feet of fall to the water surface behind our back we wouldn't get surrounded. It was a good plan for that situation. The fight took much longer but we had the numbers and the formation, we were set for victory. The leader of the pack was the biggest and toughest of them all, it moved on two legs. I squared off against it, the fight took all the wind out of me but ultimately I sliced off it's paws and saw it bleed out. Before the battle ended the day became a night. Seeing that we prevailed, exhausted I fell to the ground, darkness intensified further in my eyes and I felt every vein in my body pulsating. I thought we were safe. But with the night came the darkness and with the darkness came the undead. I was slipping out of consciousness in terror, trying to will my limbs to move and my body to stand... then I heard her..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura clenched her teeth and took a deep breath before continuing:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The sweetest voice of our Jarra. She said - "Don't you worry Maura, you protected me since I was just a kid, now it's my turn. We faced worse odds before and prevailed." But I knew how bad our situation was. Our ranks were thinned out and our warriors exhausted with two previous fights. And the bridge... the bridge was the worst place possible to defend against undead. The raised dead, they just push forward mindlessly, not minding our spears and swords. When I heard Jarra shout to form wedge, a spark of hope was the last thing I felt before blacking out."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She took another couple of seconds to calm her voice and said:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "A spark extinguished so violently... rays of first sun and masticating sounds awoke me. The first thing I saw was a blue glove streched out towards my face, the second thing was her beautiful pale face, calm and half-smiling to me, then I saw her dead, motionless eyes and locate the source of the sounds - a ghastly, animated corpse chewing on her ribs, her body was... she was not all there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The undead were few by then - I killed them all. Burned all the corpses - our men, the beasts, the undead; except for her. I burried what remained of Jarra right by that bridge. I embedded a blue gauntlet on the headstone, it's unmistakable."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She held Goriad's gaze, as if deciding something, but the look she had was not fear, it was surrender. She finished her story saying:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I know I failed her. I failed to defend her..." - she squeezed a scar where her left thumb used to be - "... I was supposed to be a shield. But I failed her more than that. She underestimated every threat she ever faced, because I let her underestimate them. Because I was always there to save her. But when I finally wasn't there, she wasn't ready for it... The fault is mine..." - she looked at the man before her and intently looking him in the eyes added - "... and mine alone."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | The fault is mine... and mine alone."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He looked at her for a moment, his eyes piercing hers. His silence spoke a thousamd words, although any and all would interpret them differently.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As she told her story, Goriad II had taken one of his knives in his right hand and slowly started tapping its tip in his left hand. When she finished he lifted up the knife and pointed it into her direction amd waggled it up and down. "She had great potential Maura and you lost her. You allowed them to take her," he said in a strangely calm voice. He shook his head "a shame Maura, she wasn't ready yet. Maybe one day you will be." As he spoke a small grin appeared on his face at the end and suddenly he made a small cut into his hand." After he had finished speaking he took his bloodied palm and placed it on Maura's right cheek as he padded it a few times.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He then turned around only to see Jessica had left and only Lavitz and Gyrthrul remained. "What in Obeah's name happened here?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | “No joke, Lady Maura. Truth be told, I am surprised Lady Jessica has reacted this well.” He glanced around, that fire poker wouldn’t do too much against his armour, but the guards could give him some trouble. “If I took off my mask... my current condition would not make anyone more comfortable.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turned his head to the voice. Gythrul did not recognise the man, but he was apparently Jessica’s cousin. He listened to what he said.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Why do you defend me?” He asked the newcomer, he was wary.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He cursed, loud enough for the man standing beside him to hear as Goriad approached. It was a curse born of annoyance.
| |
| − | | |
| − | His glare towards the Regent was interrupted by the loud clang of metal against stone. He turned his attention just in time to see Jessica storm off. He considered going after her, but decided against it. He slowly picked up the fire poker, and handed it to a guard.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Lavitz turned to look at Gythrul, "I don't defend you, Daimon Lord. I defend the decision of the Prophetess Rania. If it was up to me, I would skewer you atop a lofty post to decorate the ramparts. Fortunately, that is not the responsibility of the Templars, and I have no authority in the matter. As long as you have the favor of the Prophetess and the Inquisition, you will see no harm from me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He turned slightly, noticing the Regent as well. Momentarily, he shared the feeling of dislike with Gythrul. The feeling of sharing anything with that souless wraith made his stomach turn.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul had hold back laughter at the irony of the situation. He and Jessica’s cousin, both men of faith, both with a hatred of each other’s theologies, sharing dislike toward the same man.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “I have no doubt you would.” He whispered in a raspy voice. “But I doubt there is much left of my body to skewer.” He chuckled lightly at this.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He cocked his head to the side, curious about the Regent’s actions. What was his interest in this woman?
| |
| − | | |
| − | “See to your cousin. Family is important. I will occupy Goriad.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "What in Obeah's name happened here?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Lavitz gazed in the direction his cousin had departed, then turned to Goriad II, "Been a long time, Goriad. Or should I say 'Regent'?" he said unappreciatively, "I don't think Jessica is ready to forgive those who aided the Daimon Princes. Seeing as Akkan tortured her and cast her from the continent to the Colonies, I can understand her hostility. I do not know what horrors she faced on that continent, but I do know she left here with her tongue..." He sighed, "Undoubtedly, it only compounded her hatred of him," Lavitz cocked his head towards Gythrul.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "What is your scheme here anyways Gythrul?" Lavitz asked the wraith.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Lavitz looked at him as he replied: "I don't think Jessica is ready to forgive those who aided the Daimon Princes..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Goriad II was confused as he was uncertain of what this Templar spoke of. He knew little of Jessica he realized, but slowly he learned more and more.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Who aided the Daimon Princes?" He asked after which he looked to Gyrthrul "You were once a servant of the daemons?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | “Scheme? Speak to the Oracle, discuss a few things then consider the future.” Gythrul rasped, before turning his attention back to Goriad.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He considered being a smartass about the Regent’s question, though it would probably not end well for him. “I.... was. I served as the Harbinger of Spearhold, the Last Tongue of the Gods and I defiled your temple at Keffa.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Maura touched her bloody face. She wasn't surprised with being covered in blood at the end of this conversation, she was surprised that it wasn't her own blood.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Dumbstruck she thought - "I guess I was misinterpreting their relationship all that time", as she retreated to one of the benches beside the wall, from where she continued to observe the developments regarding the masked daimon-worshipper. She made a mental note to talk to the charming devil-spawn later on.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | “I.... was. I served as the Harbinger of Spearhold, the Last Tongue of the Gods and I defiled your temple at Keffa.” the masked man said.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Goriad II smiled for a moment "Good," he said as he nodded "I have been meaning to speak with one, let alone one with such a title. The last tongue huh? Then you must know all they spoke off, good."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Unknowingly Goriad II continued to tap with the dagger as he spoke as he had never returned it into his cloack.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Now last Tongue, you will no doubt be dying to tell me what you learned," a vile grin appeared on his face as he quickly looked at the surrounding guards. "Let's start simple. The daemon Overlords demanded human worship as it gave them strength. Did they have the power to steer the energies of willing human souls to weaken the veil between our world and the Netherworld or did they use it to strengthen the magical flows of the world? To clarify, the human worship power, did it effect and help control the magical flows or did it effect the veil directly?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul put his hands behind his back and stared the Regent in the eye.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “I am not dying to tell you anything, My Lord Regent. Threaten me all you will, I will discuss what I deem acceptable with the Oracle.” How Gythrul wanted to strike that grin from Goriad’s face. He clenched his fists. He was slightly regretting not bringing his sword.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Worst case scenario, he was killed again, best case was he made a powerful enemy. “What do you plan to do now? Kill or arrest me?”
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Hearing Gythrul's response Maura knew what was to follow. Not feeling in a mood for beholding a slaughter she decided to make her leave. She sought out Master of Ceremony, Bryant was his name, and asked him to bid her farewell to Lady Jessica, after which she departed, hurling her broken weapon into the bushes outside Gildre Manor, so she would remember getting a new one.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul finished his tensed words: “What do you plan to do now? Kill or arrest me?”
| |
| − | | |
| − | Goriad II just grinned and shook his head: "If I threathen you, you'll know it," and he chuckled briefly "Since you seem to claim continously you have a deal with the Oracle and will tell her what we need to know, we'll take a short trip to go see her." He then made a short gesture towards Sigmund "Sigmund, tell Jessica that both Gythrul and I have to leave, but that I look forward to seeing her again."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He then turned back to Gythrul: "Now you can join me to the Oracle by choice, or I will have them take you into custody by force and will have them cut off your feet so they can more easily drag you along," he then turned his back to the man and moved away from the crowd. He turned around for a brief second and said: "Now that was a threat my dear friend."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Gythrul Attano'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Gythrul clenched his fists harder. He wasn’t surprised that the Regent has decided to bring that up. “Yes we shall, our meeting has been long overdue.” He rasped, taking a step forward.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Wraith hissed lightly at Goriad. “I am no friend of yours, My Lord Regent.” He put an angered emphasis on the title as he followed Goriad, cursing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Roleplay from Jessica Gildre'''
| |
| − |
| |
| − | Lavitz followed the Regent and the Wraith. He was heading back to the Basilica anyways to resume his meditations.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As the men left, Bryant cleared his throat.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "My fair nobles," he called, "Her Lady Jessica is humbled at your presence, and thanks you for making the time to attend. Should you need a carriage, please do not hesitate to request one from the porters. Please have a wonderful evening."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Slowly, party goers began to take their leave from the estate.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | ***
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Astros Renodin (16 days, 3 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | | |
| − | After the battle in Avengmil
| |
| − | | |
| − | Raising the visor on his basinet Astros looked to the left and then turned his bull necked head to the right. ''Good! It seems we finally got this situation, under control again.'' He flashed a grin and wiped the blood of the slaughtered beasts off of his greatsword on one of their fallen.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (14 days, 5 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Maura took position on the highest hill she could find in Avengmil. From there she viewed the surrounding area, leisurely tallying up the units rallied in the region.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Her eyes wandering from one armed company to another. When she noticed the squad of giants, nigh hundred men strong, a tiny smirk slipped through the crack of absent-mindedness onto otherwise motionless wall of her face. 'Fight well Mark of Bedlam' - she thought before straightening the unintended curves of her mouth.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Further down the plain she could make out the shape of the masked knight ordering around his followers and with a barely visible frown she whispered: "the balls on this one" - with equal amounts of revulsion and respect.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Finally she counted almost all commanders of the Enlightenment present in the region. Why weren't they moving out was beyond her.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (12 days, 7 hours ago)
| |
| − | Message sent to all members of the Enlightenment (20 recipients)
| |
| − | "I recall holding off a monster horde in Rueffilo with two archers and four infantrymen... twice." - whispered Maura reading the letters.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "What was it m'Lady?" - asked her captain lurking nearby.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "What did I say about addressing me 'm'Lady'?" - Maura chastened the man, ignoring his question.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Forgive me commander. I forgot. Shall I bring herbs for the wound?" - asked captain pointing at the tear on her arm.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "That and wine. Lots of it." - she said.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Yes ma'am" - replied captain hurrying out of the tent.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (10 days, 23 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Maura travelled light. In her times of lesser prominence she was everything a noble lady could need: a scribe, a scout, a chambermaid, a barber and a captain, all in one person. Now that she was a noble lady herself she had no need for any of those, perfectly capable of writing her own letters and making her own bed, she surrounded herself by warriors and warriors alone. That unique experience allowed her to save nearly half of her unit, obliterated by the undead.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Amidst the hassle of breaking camp she sat on a big rock, reading letters and reports, slowly sipping from her ever-present wine skin.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Will you seek to do anything about it before my return, or will you bow down to injustice?" - she whispered, reading aloud. We all bow down to injustice eventually... but you know that, you madman, don't you? - she thought to herself, when suddenly a fiendish thought went through her mind leaving a tiny ripples of smile on the serene lake of her face. She took a quill in hand...
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (8 days, 5 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | | |
| − | Boltgan Starck, Knight of Rines, Marshal of the Enlightenment meets his challenger Maura Arnickles Renodin, Dame of Athol Margos for the agreed training match.
| |
| − | Maura has decided to use the 'overrun' strategy while Boltgan has chosen the 'neutral' strategy, giving Maura the advantage.
| |
| − | After a series of blows, Maura wins the training match.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | Academy in Rines' seaside district, not far from Prophet's Landing was a humble but tidy place, fit for noble but focused on essentials of such an edifice. Upon entering the main hall Marshal Boltgan noticed Maura already there - in her stature she resembled more a perfect courtly guard than a noble lady - a motionless monument of a warrior, her mere presence bringing feelings of reassurance and safety. She was dressed rather lightly for the occasion - her chaimail and empty scabbard laid on the floor beside her, shoulderguards made of fur and hardened leather adorned her arms, she also wore a leathery excuse of a breastplate ending halfway through the belly and a chamois skirt. The only piece of actual armour were the plated greaves protecting her calves. In her hands she held a quarterstaff at the ready. Noticing Marshal's presence she said:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Marshal..." - with a curt nod - "I don't believe we had the pleasure of meeting in person before."
| |
| − | | |
| − | After acknowledging the response, Maura asked:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Are you ready?" - and barely the confirmation could sound in the room and the statue transformed into a storm, and the unmoving monument crumbled into a thousand pieces of fluid motion, each of them as deadly of intent as unrestrained. It was as if the stone-carved sentry of a temple suddenly came to life and as a mythical fury rushed on the tresspassers. The ferrocity of the attack didn't quite match a friendly training match, the weapon was blunt but the force behind the swings could knock out a lesser man in a single blow.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Boltgan Starck (8 days ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | | |
| − | Marshal Boltgan, after attending some military logistics duties, went for a walk in Rines. Admiring and contemplating the new and improved infrastructures of the city was for a while. Then he remembered the first moments when he arrived in Rines. It has changed a lot and its dynamism still does not seem to stop. Then the front of the academy was already before his eyes. His feet have not touched its floor for a long time, and a training match would be a good opportunity to use it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | His footsteps echoed through the hall, when a woman's figure equipped with light leather armor was in front of him. Boltgan thought he had seen her before, just before the battle in Ardmore.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Marshal..." - with a curt nod - "I don't believe we had the pleasure of meeting in person before."
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | "Indeed." - he answered while staring at her - "I must admit that your challenge surprised me as it also excited me... I really had to come."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Boltgan left his bows and arrows on a table. His gaze had a slight change as he approached her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As soon as the match began, the Marshal was surprised by her incredible speed. His astonishment was such that he had to adopt a prudent stance to face it. Her first feints were evaded, but his metal armor took its toll. He tried to keep up, but every second that passed became more difficult. His movements slowed down as the match went on, while Maura's movements seemed to become faster and more lethal. She was an indomitable fierce.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (7 days, 19 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Several swings and thursts came with nothing but thin air as Marshal Boltgan dodged the hits. Maura checked a couple of counterattacks that found a bit of space under the flurry of strikes she was unleashing. Seeing how the sword marked the wood of quarterstaff Maura increased her pace, not allowing for any more countestrikes, that could be ending this match much more dramatically than intended if they connected.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Using her thumbless left hand only for altering momentum of the quarterstaff and never for holding it Maura found an opportunity above her opponent's block - she immediately stopped the swirling motion of the staff and in a split of a second used it as a spear, thrusting the tip right into the left brow ridge, drawing a bit of blood and forcing surrender.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Right there, at the conclusion of the fight, letting her own exhaustion show, for the briefest of seconds her facade slipt, she was no longer a rabid fury of the battle, nor a motionless effigy of a person, or a basalt-carved sentry of a temple - she was a woman of flesh, grinning from the post-fight glee... for a second. It took no longer than that for her eyes to lose a shine and her face to lose the curvature of a smile. Before he could notice it Boltgan was again seeing a statue before him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "A splendid match, Marshal." - she said. "I am certain you would best me if you weren't caught by surprise. An unintended lesson, perhaps..." - Maura studied if her remark was welcomed and seeing no obvious frown she continued - "a military commander should expect anything, always."
| |
| − | | |
| − | If a sculpture could smile it would certainly look a lot like the hint of kindness in Maura's eyes that was gracefully awarded to her training partner right before she started gathering her belongings.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Boltgan Starck (7 days, 17 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | | |
| − | Boltgan was stopping each attack to the point that he only responded by instinct. There was almost no time to think, the sword seemed to move only by reflection.
| |
| − | | |
| − | After a few moments, Dame Maura was like a statue in front of the Marshal again. A thin cold made him carry his hand over his left eyebrow, which was stained with a little blood. Then he knew that the match was over.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Boltgan sheathed his sword, his face no longer had that serious look of the beginning.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Your words are right, I was careless for a moment" - The Marshal told her with a somewhat resigned voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He took his bow and quiver, then began to leave the place. After a few steps, he stopped and in a relatively kinder voice uttered.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Finally we had the pleasure of meeting in person." - and then he left the hall heavily.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Gythrul Attano (7 days, 12 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Gythrul inclined his head as the black robed figure barred the basement door. “As you commanded,” the figure said, “the manor is empty. All the servants have been sent off for the day.” Gythrul nodded, satisfied. He was at his city quarters in Rines. The servants had been sent off under the pretence that their lord wished to be alone while he grieved. It was true, partly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The one who had barred the door joined the the other five men before Gythrul. The basement’s heating forge was burning, making the basement, and the manor above, uncomfortably warm for this time of year.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Gythrul instructed the six men to kneel before turning. In the alcove in front of him was a small wooden totem. It was small enough to be carried in one hand, and was carved with Daimonic faces and symbols. He was disgusted that the ceremony was all that Usul would receive. A follower of Daishi would try to kill him, disregarding the fact that no temples of that faith existed in Obia’Syela. And no Obian would honor him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Wraith kneeled and bowed his head.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Akkan. Jomorosh. Jactosh. Domina.” He rasped, the men behind repeating after him in unison. “Lords of the Netherworld, true rulers of Beluaterra, bringers of Truth. Hear the plea of the faithful. One of our comrades, Usul Soul, has fallen. We ask that you return his soul to us, or grant his servants the power to do so. If not, reforge his soul, make it something stronger, greater.” the Wraith raised his head and stared at the totem, the carvings appearing to shift. “And send him back to us when the Portals open.” Gythrul stood back up and turned to his followers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Truth guide him.” They echoed his words.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Gythrul turned and took the totem. He tapped it against his mask before casting it into the fire.
| |
| − | | |
| − | An hour later, he sat in his study. Like the rest of the manor, it was sparsely decorated, only a few bookshelves and two chairs by a fireplace were there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Like during his service, he sat there in his plate armour and mask. He waited.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (7 days, 9 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Despite the best efforts of several of her warriors Maura decided to go alone. Now she stood in front of the door, remembering the discussion.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Things are being said of this man, I hear he worships daimons and eats children" - said one.
| |
| − | "I hear he skins children for clothing and decorations" - said another.
| |
| − | "I hear he darins the children and bathes in their blood, it's a daimon tradition." - said yet another one.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Well since it appears only children are at peril, it's good that I am not one." - Maura replied.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "At least fill that empty scabbard of yours with a blade. Take mine if you wish." - Said Cengarda. Maura insisted that her captain be a woman for reasons known to her and her alone, since then she is yet to regret her decision. The short, white-haired warrior of Luhgrethen performed admirably in the office.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "How would it look to visit a fellow noble armed? No lass, I'll be having just my staff... for walking convenience of course." - said Maura which caused her captain to foster a smile that never made home on lady's face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Standing in front of the door to Gythrul's quarters in Rines she thought if she had the right place. Through the headroom she had a peak on the insides of the building. It was barely furnished and appeared all but deserted. No servants seemed to be around. "Let's see" - she thought as she readjusted her chainmail and vambraces.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ---
| |
| − | | |
| − | Three heavy knocks of wood on wood could be heard. A little while later the door opened and onyx statue of a warrior effused overdramaticaly: "Good afternoon! Do you have a moment to talk about our Lady and saviour, Obeah, the Veiled Goddess?"
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Gythrul Attano (7 days, 8 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | A black robed figure pushed his way into the doorframe. “My Lady Inquisitor. Lord Gythrul is expecting you in his study. If you’ll come with me.” He began to walk back into the manor, throwing glances over his shoulder to see if Maura followed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He made his way up a flight of stairs before opening a door and bowing. “Through here, My Lady Inquisitor.”
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (7 days, 8 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Maura took in the surroundings upon entering the study and gave a slight nod of approval for her host's minimalist taste, so aligned with her own martial mind.
| |
| − | Not waiting for invitation she took the unoccupied of the only two chairs in the room and placed her staff beside her, resting one end on the mantlepiece.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The silence in the study was heavy, as the eyes of the inquisitor examined the knight before her. The occupant of the other chair was an imposing figure clad in plate armour, head-to-toe, as if even in the refuge of his own quarters he remained ready for battle. His face was hidden behind ever-present mask, from behind it - Maura was certain - another pair of eyes is similarly occupied.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Finally she spoken:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Sir Gythrul, it's a pleasure to meet you again, our last meeting was..." - she looked for a fitting word but swiftly forfeited her search and continued - "I am here with duties of the Inquisition and at the request of our dearest Lord Regent. That being said I wouldn't even bother to..." - unsaid part of the sentence dissipated in air without as much as a discounting wave of hand from Maura - "I wouldn't bother if I weren't personally interested. Tell me about..." - she pointedly looked him up and down, letting her stare linger on the mask for a while - "... everything."
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Gythrul Attano (6 days, 18 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Gythrul nodded. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Inquisitor. I do agree our last meeting was... interesting.” He rasped. He inclined his head. It was interesting that Maura had arrived with a staff. He expected a sword.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Everything? You could ask nearly any Obian for what they know of me. You’ll hear more curses and mentions of Keffa than information, but you’ll hear what you need to know. Why come to me then?”
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (6 days, 9 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | | |
| − | “Everything? You could ask nearly any Obian for what they know of me. You’ll hear more curses and mentions of Keffa than information, but you’ll hear what you need to know. Why come to me then?”
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | "Ah..." - she sounded as if talking through a smile but her face seemed equaly capable of changing shape as Gythrul's mask - "But I am not interested in tales of distant past, as I am not interested in gossip. It is true that I know of your past and your exploits at behest of the daimons. I knew noone in Keffa, I arrived at the Holy Realm much later and I hardly care about the fate of the city. What puzzles me is the reason why have you chosen Obia'Syela as your home after the fall of Netherwolrd and Spearhold? What I mulled over ever since our last meeting is that ever-present mask of yours - is it part of the daimonic religion, a symbol of forsaking one's identity? What bewilders me the most though is how have you escaped being burned at the stake all this time..." - assuming the place where the masked knight's stare landed Maura tapped her empty scabbard twice - "... worry not. I am not here to kill you or take you into custody, as you see I arrived unarmed. I do have to ask however - would you consider converting to the faith of our Lady and Saviour - Obeah the Veiled Goddess?"
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Gythrul Attano (6 days, 6 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Gythrul listened intently. “You care not for Keffa? You care not that I tortured and murdered every priest and believer I could get my hands on before burning the first temple of the Heralds down? The mask is a necessity, for the comfort of my fellows. I have avoided execution, again, through your need for more troops at the front.”
| |
| − | | |
| − | He leaned forward. “As for why I came to Obia’syela. I came because you are us. Everything of your society, your doctrine, your zealotry is but a mirror of what we were. You fight the same battle we fought. The battle for purity and religious dominance. The battle for the heart and soul of every man, woman and child. The battle for order and for survival. And, we both fought at the side of Daimons. The Oracle guarded herself with a cadre of Daimons” He knew not if Maura knew about Rania’s old guard. But she did now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “I know you are not here to arrest me, otherwise you would have kicked my door down. You are here because you wish to speak. As do I.” He leaned back in his seat.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (6 days, 5 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | "Yes, having the daimon worshiper in our ranks wear a creepy mask provides us with such a great comfort..." - she let her voice trail off.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I'll take the explanation about your service keeping you from fueling the pyres with your flesh. You look able, as do your men... Apostasy..." - she chuckled inwardly at the audacity of the devil. And resting her ankle on her knee with a heavy clang of the greeve on knee pad she replied to the story of Keffa:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "See deamon-lover, I had my noble claim recognized less than a year ago, so for most of my life I enjoyed point of view unavailable to my current peers. Words like famine and starvation to most of the nobles are exotic at best. I've been on both the giving and receiving end of cruelty, both human and inhuman." - she clenched her thumbless left hand before continuing - "Keffa events were a tragedy to the followers of Obeah, but world abounds in tragedies and that particular one is distant in time. If I count it right it happened more than six years ago, more than two years before my arrival in Obia'Syela. If I were to weep for every tragedy of the past, these lands would suffer the second deluge."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Gythrul leaned forward, saying:
| |
| − | | |
| − | “As for why I came to Obia’syela. I came because you are us. Everything of your society, your doctrine, your zealotry is but a mirror of what we were. You fight the same battle we fought. The battle for purity and religious dominance. The battle for the heart and soul of every man, woman and child. The battle for order and for survival. And, we both fought at the side of Daimons. The Oracle guarded herself with a cadre of Daimons”
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I agree that there may be similarities, but I don't think they are what you expect." - her eyes pointed herself - "I bear the fire of the Inquisition, yet would you take me for a zealot? Obeah, Arch-daimons, Atlas, Daishi, whatever the supreme being of choice I believe that minds of clay are easily shaped, but shaping minds of iron requires flame and pressure. From your words I can tell that your zeal is true, I would assume you lived through things that forged you as a true believer. The eldritch flames of Netherworld plasticized your mind and arcane pressure solidified it anew. Would you mind telling me what were those events? What did the daimons do to make you such an adamant follower of theirs?" - she enunciated the last sentence with the rasping voice. She noticed that during this meeting she spoken more words than during the entire last week; she cursed the regent in her mind and twice as hard cursed her unusal sobriety. Before Gythrul could answer her first question she swore aloud:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Akkan's arse! I didn't expected much hospitality from a deamon-lover but a cup of wine wouldn't be too much to ask!" - her anger appeared more feigned than honest and her eyes alone smiled each time she thrown a ' deamon lover' insult at her host.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Gythrul Attano (5 days, 16 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Gythrul crossed his arms. “Unfortunately, wine is one of the luxuries that I am short on. However, I believe I have a bottle of Thalmarkin Red.” He stood up and left Maura in the study.
| |
| − | | |
| − | As he left the room he passed one of his remaining attendants, the one who had let the Inquisitor in. The attendant cocked his head and Gythrul shook his, the attendant’s hand left the folds of his robes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He went to the kitchen and found the bottle in question, as well as a glass.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He returned to the study and handed both to his guest. He took his seat again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “You wish to know why I pledged myself to the Lords of the Netherworld? Simple, I heard of their cause. As a child, I grew enamoured with the tales. Their goals aligned with my own; to create a pure world. Free from Lies, with only Truth. The first chance I came here and pledged myself to them. Have you ever seen one? Not the lesser ones, but a true Daimon Lord? To gaze upon one is to gaze upon purity made manifest. You see, the Lords of Humanity, especially the Lords of northern Beluaterra, they are corrupt. They claim to be honourable, pious, just men and women. In truth, they are little better than beasts, acting on impulse. They Lie. We either held true to our oaths, or accepted what we were. That is why I served, because they are True. And what of you? Why do you serve the Veiled Goddess?”
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (5 days, 6 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | Maura accepted the bottle and the glass immediately filling the vessel with red liquid and downing half of it in one gulp.
| |
| − | | |
| − | “You wish to know why I pledged myself to the Lords of the Netherworld? Simple, I heard of their cause. As a child, I grew enamoured with the tales. Their goals aligned with my own; to create a pure world. Free from Lies, with only Truth. The first chance I came here and pledged myself to them. Have you ever seen one? Not the lesser ones, but a true Daimon Lord? To gaze upon one is to gaze upon purity made manifest. You see, the Lords of Humanity, especially the Lords of northern Beluaterra, they are corrupt. They claim to be honourable, pious, just men and women. In truth, they are little better than beasts, acting on impulse. They Lie. We either held true to our oaths, or accepted what we were. That is why I served, because they are True. And what of you? Why do you serve the Veiled Goddess?”
| |
| − | | |
| − | "They were true." - Maura corrected Gythrul pointing out that Daimon Lords are no more - "And you seek the same truth and purity in Obia'Syela? Perhaps you'll find it... but I must say - it would be much easier to look from within the church, not from without."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She then frowned looking at an imagined object just above her head - it was the first time Gythrul saw her facial expression change - she looked as if she was calculating something with great care, after a while she finally spoken:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Why do I serve the Veiled Goddess... I don't know yet if I do..." - her voice trailed off and picking back up she added - "But if I do then it is merely out of convenience. As an inquisitor I enjoy liberties only second to those of the Grand Council."
| |
| − | | |
| − | A barely noticable hint of smile appeared on her face as she imagined surprise painted behind Gythrul's mask. Feeling the need to explain the potentially dangerous honesty she said: "You proved to be a person most hesitant to divulge anything you know despite your claims of love for the Truth, I can't imagine my secret being any different than the ones you surely keep. Besides - I can see entire realm unimaginably eager to trust any accusations you might throw at an inquisitor..." - sarcasm dripping off her words, her smile was now plainly visible - "in fact you might be the only person in the realm I can talk to without reservations."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Saying that she downed the rest of the liquor in the glass and stood up from her chair, saying - "I believe I overextended my stay."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Picking up her staff and turning to leave she mentioned once again the conversion to "The One True Faith", sincerity of her words being anyone's guess.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ***
| |
| − | | |
| − | Later that evening
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura took the nightly air into her lungs and pointed her gaze - and later her steps - to the seedier parts of Rines, in passing she grabbed a full tankard from a crowd outside of a tavern, offering them neither payment nor explanation.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin (3 days, 7 hours ago)
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela
| |
| − | "'Steady pillar' my la... commander? Not too poetic?" - asked Cengarda.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura narrowly missed her captain with tossed inkaust jar. "That's how nobles write, no?" - she said, mildly annoyed.
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | == The Inquisitor ==
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|'''Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''<br/>
| |
| − | ''all nobles of Obia'Syela''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Forged Anew Part I'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | As magnificent as Rines is, every big city has it's seedier parts - it is somewhat inevitable, the more people inhabit a place, the more opportunity for those giving less heed to the letter of the law to form groups and for those groups to occupy certain neighbourhoods; more often than not those neighbourhoods tend to be located by the water, for reasons more or less unknown to modern scholars. And so the City of Moonlight had the docks. In the central place of the Port of Four Cities there were magnificent quays of marble and basalt, and piers built with finest ilks of wood. That part of the port was designed to receive the greatest of noble guests - Kings and Emperors - and as such it was built with royal - if not imperial - style. From it shoot a wide, cobblestone alley that led the noble travellers all the way to the Basilica, through the marketplace and several other prominent locations. That alley served also as a border between the northern and southern docks, patrolled tirelessly by the city guard. The northern part was nowhere near as grandiose as the magnificent royal piers of the Port, but it was still kept neat and tidy by the merchant guilds of the city and minor noble houses, it served as the main trade hub of city; and then there were the southern docks...
| |
| − | | |
| − | ***
| |
| − | | |
| − | Full moon dawned upon the darkest corners of the city with it's silver light, as Maura strolled through the alleyes of Southern Docks all by her lonesome. In her drunken state her legs had all the authority over pathfinding, leaving her mind to ponder more salient dillemmas, such as: should she vomit now, or not quite yet. Employing their sovereing power her legs led her to the most obscure tavern they could find. Her hazy gaze scanned the patrons in passing, they appeared to be lowly thieves and hustlers... that is - the finest of them appeared to be thieves and hustlers. She could discern all sorts of rogues and villains, as well as an unimposing deadman cramped in the dank corner, red shape showing on his groin, embers of baccy in his pipe still drawling grey dribble of smoke in the air.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She approached the barkeep and without a word pointed to a tankard of ale. He extended expectant palm before proceeding with the order. Drunken dame poked the insides of her eternally empty purse and with an exasperated sigh and a mighty swing she punched the consciousness straight out of one of the tavern patrons' head, grabbing his tankard as he fell to the ground. Her feat raised no eyebrows, not in this joint; her shrug prompted the barkeep to withdraw his hand. Freshly acquired beverage in hand, her legs decided to leave the tavern - she followed, and so did a group of less comely tavern patrons.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Forged Anew Part II'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Cold autumn air nibbled her nose and earlobes, she rubbed off the numb sensation and poured the contents of her tankard into her throat, tossing the empty vessel aside. The clang was much louder than she expected, so she turned around to see why, only to notice the apparent source of the sound - the enormous scimtar - slapping her face with it's broad side. Even considering the force of the impact, normaly it would merely cause her stumble back, but in her drunken state it dropped her on her arse, blood gushing from her nose. The assaliant's grin revealed incomplete set of teeth. As she propped herself up she felt her arms wrenched behind her back and immobilised by two more thugs. She snarled more out of annoyance than out of pain. The man before her swinged once more, this time the hilt of the scimtar caught her left eye and a moment later is was swollen shut. What was left of her hazy eyesight made out a shape in the corner of her field of vision. It was a female shape, dressed in something blue, the notion took her mind somewhere distant in space and time and well out of the present situation, a soft smile shaped on her face.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Sensation of cold steel on her naked thigh brought her back into the moment. It pushed to the side but she resisted it without effort, up until the blade twisted, pressing sharp edge to one of her tighs and pointy tip to the other. The assaliant growled to his companions "hold the bitch tight!" and sneered at Maura as he dropped the scimtar to the ground and kneeled between her tighs, ripping the drawstings out of his trousers with one hand and spreading long faulds of her chainmail with the other. Exposing his manhood he noticed her victim's back arching at extreme angle and completely oblivious to the situation, he laughed out loud, shouting "look-it boys! she wants i-", unable to finish his sentence.
| |
| − | Maura's tighs shoot up in the air at an alarming speed and clenched the villain's neck with the strength of a rockslide, constricting his movements. The other two rogues needed all the hands they had to keep Maura in place, in panic trying to decipher muffled sounds coming from their leader. They were all wrestling for a good couple of moments until finally one "HWOOHD!" escaped the suffocating throat of the hapless scoundrel in a way that allowed his minions to recognize it as "sword". The villain closer to it let go of one of Maura's arms and jumped for the scimtar, enabling her to snap the neck she held between her tighs and wrestle free of the grip on her other arm, all in one motion.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She stood up and faced her opponents, quickly calculating the odds. She was unarmed and they were no longer fighting for the wicked joy. Their intent was now to kill and they were ready to see it fullfilled. She was about to decide to fight, when she felt the throbbing pain in her palm. "Must've disjointed my wrist when wrestling it free" - she thought, almost cursing aloud. She immediately stood straight and before they could attack she said:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I am Maura Arnic-BLARGH!" - in a mighty retch she vomited all the contents of her stomach, spilling some of it on the two before her. Almost amused with their disgust she continued, trying her best not to slur the words: "I am Dame Maura Arnickles Renodin of Rines, and the Port of Four Cities along with the Southern Docks is my domain now. In the name and with the authority of my immediate liege and your sovereign lady Rania Eastersand JeVondair I order you to stand down or face all consequences."
| |
| − | | |
| − | The threat worked. Surprisingly well. In the moonlight it is very hard to tell when someone is going pale, so Maura was amazed how apparent it was on their faces. They must've been terrified. Her assumptions confirmed as one of them asked in a shaking voice:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Renodin l-like, Astros Renodin?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Forged Anew Part III'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | She almost smiled when she said: "A distant relative." - and watching the cogs of tiny windmills of their minds turn she suppressed a smirk when they fell to their knees, pledging allegiance and offering their service. Seconds slipped into minutes as she let herself sink into a reverie. Her hazy vision fell on a blue ghost by the chalky-white wall, and when her eyes met those of her lady, she heard the voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''You silly goose, you can't act like that anymore. You're a noble lady now. Noble ladies don't look for trouble in shady alleys. The Maura I knew, noble or not, didn't look for trouble in shady alleys. She was about selfless duty.''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "The Maura you knew is no more, m'Lady. I can't be her. Not anymore."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''You also can't be...'' - the specter lady motioned between the thugs and dead body - ''...this.''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura was about to argue but taking in the words she simply nodded.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "But I can still see you." - she pointed to the ghost - "Not like this. I can still see you like then. Torn to pieces, your entrails hanging from the jaw of that ghastly creature. It was all because... it was me."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''It was...'' - the ghost said and to shock on Maura's face she continued - ''... or it was not. Things happen. Horrible and good alike. Things. Happen. There's nothing more to it.''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "What should I do now?" - Maura asked, staring into empty space.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Letting me go would be a start.'' - Jarra chuckled - ''Don't you shake your head now! You should know better than to question your lady.'' - she smiled at her captain - ''Yes, I know, the emptiness. You will find a way to fill it. As you should fill that empty scabard of yours.'' - The ghost pointed at the sheath that used to hold a mighty scimtar and suddenly she started fading.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You could take us in... I mean in service." - one of the thugs answered Maura's question, earning only angry stare and withdrwaing immediately.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The warrior lady whispered out of earshot of the two men: "I can't let you go, I'll have nothing left."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Then I'll leave you this'' - said the spectre continuing to fade - ''there is magic on this world. There is magic that enhances the nature of things, those common spells merely tickle the Veil. There is magic that alters the nature of things, those spells scratch at the Veil. And then there is the magic that contradicts the nature of things, those most rare and powerful spells tear the Veil, pierce the Veil. Even those are not strong enough to tear a hole big enough for Her to come... not alone, but they are strong enough for you to feel Her, to truly feel Her, Her and... all the others.''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Maura considered herself a seasoned warrior, so she was ashamed of the cold shivers she felt at those words. The ghost started disappearing, her voice shifting to something else, something less human:
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''F'''in'''d them, '''read them''', perf'''orm''' them and<br/>
| |
| − | The '''empti'''ness y'''Ou''' shall fill,<br/>
| |
| − | The '''pur'''pose you shall f'''i'''nd.''<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | The ghost disappeared entirely and Maura found herself as sober as a judge. She took a while to snap out of her reverie and recompose herself, after which she started barking out orders:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You two! Find me one and a half dozen more of... you. Fetch them and yourselves to the knightly quarters of the Port of Four Cities. And that..." - she pointed to the scimtar - "Is mine now."
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|'''Orders from Maura Arnickles Renodin'''
| |
| − | ''To all sellswords, huntsmen, rangers and magic peddlers on the lands of Sacred Obia'Syela,''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Those of you registered within the halls of Heralds of Obeah and serving the will of Veiled Goddess divined to us by Her Oracle - I congratulate. Should you suffer mistreatment - contact me at once and equal mistreatment I shall inflict upon the perpetrator and see to reimbursement for your harms.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Those of you not registered within the halls of Heralds of Obeah and not serving the will of Veiled Goddess divined to us by Her Oracle - I educate. Each temple of the Heralds has plenty volumens about our Obeah, if read you cannot - each temple has clerks, scholars and heralds who re-tell the sermons and teach the common. Furtherly if you have good reason - Goriad II, Kiki, Rania Eastersand are the priests of the order, Heralds of the Veiled Goddess, their knowledge of Obeah is far greater than any mortal and Oracle Rania talks to Her directly. They shall be able to divine greatest truths upon thee, but only disturb them if you have the gravest of reasons, otherwise expect flogs at best.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Those of you actively opposing and working against the Heralds of Obeah, those of you seeing enemy in the Veiled Goddess or Her Oracle - I warn. You may run or hide, but noone escapes the inquisition and once inquisited your sins will be known and once your sins are known your body and soul will be claimed. One will feed the flames, the other will be purified by them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Heed my words.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''''The Inquisitor,<br/>'''''
| |
| − | '''''Maura Arnickles Renodin<br/>'''''
| |
| − | '''''Dame of Rines'''''
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|'''The Duel of Inquisitors'''
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin
| |
| − |
| |
| − | As you walk through the main alley of Rines, a man carrying inquisitorial insignia and a red lion sigil on his tabard stops from a hasty march right in front of you, he takes a bow
| |
| − | and introduces himself as Ulli. Only when he rises his head you notice it being covered in countless bruises. He pleads with one of your guards. His mouth forms words:
| |
| − | | |
| − | "My Lord, please. She said I either find her a noble training partner or I have to step in again. She doesn't hold back, I can't anymore. I have only five teeth left. I'm begging
| |
| − | you my Lord."
| |
| − | | |
| − | He points to the academy in the docks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Roleplay from Divus Lancaster
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | Divus stared blankly at the attendant wearing Inquisition colors, trying to follow along in the conversation. Divus thought that he caught the name "Olly" or something like that. Regardless of his name, Olly's body language was obvious to tell. He was covered in bruises and would have a difficult time with solid food going forward. Olly stood at an angle, obviously favoring his left side and keeping as little weight off his leg as possible.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | At first Divus thought that the man had been mugged or attacked, but he pointed at the Academy near the docks frantically.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | Divus silently cursed the fact he wore his noble colors today and turned to walk towards the Academy. He hadn't drawn his sword in earnest since the events in Ardmore, but at this point his hearing was not coming back and he would need to learn to fight without it.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | "Let's go," he said to his guards, much to the visible relief of Olly, and began the walk to the dueling grounds.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | -
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | Roleplay from Divus Lancaster
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "My lord, pardon me, but couldn't we have taken a ship?" The young squire asked, nervously looking left and right atop his pony. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Divus turned and glared at the squire, who quickly averted his gaze and stared at the passing ground below. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | The road was mostly empty, aside from the sound of crows high above in the trees. Occasionally there would be a rustle on the bushes, which drove hands to sword pommels but usually ended up being some small bird or rodent. The rogue regions outside Grehk were more desolate than Divus had expected. While it was true that no kingdom or empire had owned the city or these surrounding lands in some time, Divus had hoped there were at least some signs of life. True there was an occupied hut or hovel every mile or so, but the peoples had hidden themselves from Divus and his men as they passed. He did not blame them, the handful of armed men probably looked like brigands or thieves. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | He had chosen not to fly his person colors, or those of his realm, until they entered the Shattered Vales. Before that, it would just be a target for him and the few others he chose to bring with him on the way to Unger. It would be his first tournament ever, but his excitement was dulled. He hadn't expected to be so disadvantaged, though he hadn't fully realized it till his training duel with Maura of the Inquisition. He still carried more than a few bruises from the event. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Until he was given the signal, he hadn't realized how important his hearing was to the fight. His timing was off considerably, the beat of steel against steel lost on him completely. His reactions, he could feel it, were dulled and slow. Much too slow to face such a talented warrior as Maura Arnickles Renodin. The ferocity had pushed him back, and he ran out of tricks quickly. Once, he had an opportunity to counter, and thrust his sword forward, trying to deliver a crippling below to the underside of Maura's arm. However, as he brought his sword up he whiffed complete, opening himself up to a punishing blow. For a moment he was dazed, more so by confusion than pain. How had he missed? Looking down at his shirt-sleeve he realized what was wrong. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | His arm was shorter. Not just his arm, but the rest of him as well. In the trauma of losing his hearing, he hadn't noticed that he didn't need to shave quite as often and that his clothes no longer fit quite as right. He went to one of the Temple healers, thinking he had shrunk by some magic, but after glancing at his body and teeth, the healer delivered the fateful news: he was younger. Three years younger, or so. The healer priest had heard of this before, particularly after the events in Ardmore. Those changed by the wave of energy were young, revitalized by youth. While Divus supposed this was a blessing to some of the more ancient among them, he could see it little more than a curse. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | So when the news spread that there was a tournament in Unger, in far Thalmarkin, Divus quickly made plans to depart. Some time away from the homelands would give him a chance to think and a chance to re-learn his sword arts. He would need to re-learn his technique, not only from a hearing perspective, but from a size as well. He had realized on the road what a daunting task he had ahead of him, but at the same time he was glad to have the challenge. <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Truly Obeah was testing him, and he would rise to the challenge. On the bright side, he had a bit more time now to achieve his goals. <br/>
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | -
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | Roleplay from Maura Arnickles Renodin<br/>
| |
| − | message to all nobles of Obia'Syela<br/>
| |
| − | Sharp ripples of air irked the eardrums of a bulky man, shaking "cautious" right out of his cautious approach. "Some madcaps love that noise" he thought as he placed one foot after another. "That half-scratching, half-screeching sound of quill on parchment". As the sound stopped, Ulli found that he indeed preffered the annoying noise over the alternative - a yard-long scimtar at his throat.<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You will find me much more harder to sneak upon when I'm sober..." - Maura said and lifted her captain's chin up with the tip of her sword - "Try again in the evening."<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I... why do we stay in Rines? Road's are dangerous, I know best. We're good for the courts!" - Ulli insisted, spreading his unevenly shaved stubble in a hideous grin, barring his incomplete set of teeth as he readjusted the collar of his rich inquisitorial robe.<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You can dress a pig in a..." - Maura replied, last words of the sentence drowned out by the sound of quill on parchment, that was pointedly louder than necessary.<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Ulli squinted his eyes at the sound, and with the wave of screeching tones he wondered if his reaction wasn't increasing the volume. "You write to the child lord?" - he asked.<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Not a child." - she more thought aloud than answered.<br/>
| |
| − |
| |
| − | "Why not talk, like - during the fight or after?" - he wasn't giving up.<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We couldn't. The Ardmore Incident, he was one of the..." - she caught herself indulging the thug that played the role of her captain and immediately rectified that by tearing the pieces of goat tissue out of the parchment in a mighty swing of her quill. Ulli shrieked at displeasure, and if eyeballs alone could smirk without the help of the lips they would be the ones sitting at that moment in Maura's eyesockets. She read the content of her letter once again before sealing it:<br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Sir Divus, Inquisitor,
| |
| − | | |
| − | Forgive my lack of proper preamble, but mine is a military mind and I am organically incapable of pussyfooting around people. It is my guess that you view what happened to you as
| |
| − | a curse. I believe you should view it as a blessing. For as the saying has it: "when Obeah closes the door, she makes sure that the battering ram is not far away."
| |
| − | Your body is frailer yes, but also easier to be shaped and honed, your mind is keener. By the time you are my age you will already be the most capable and decorated Inquisitor in
| |
| − | the Holy Realm, whereas I by then will be a spinster. As for your hearing - yes, it may pose a serious inconvenience in social relations, but look at our Grand Inquisitor, I
| |
| − | hea... I mean I've been told that she has been deaf for years now and look how far she's got to!
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | In fight... your loss of hearing will be a disadvantage in single combat, however in battle - my dear, in battle you will thrive. The cruel melody of metal on metal, severed
| |
| − | flesh and breaking bones makes the finest warriors lose their cold blood. To achieve perfection, in fight one should seek serenity, not violence, deal with tools and objects, not
| |
| − | weapons and flesh. Thanks to this gift of yours, you shall walk into battle in perfect serenity, while others will have the melody of war chase the valour out of their souls and
| |
| − | piss out of their bladders.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | Take heart! The Ardmore Incident placed a burden upon many. I can help you carry yours, if you so wish.''
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Don't break the seal. Carry it yourself. Don't use any of the men, they're even dum..." - Maura commanded Ulli, opting to wave him away rather than bother with finishing her sentence.
| |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | {{Quotation|
| |
| − | | |
| − | |}}
| |
| − | | |
| − | <br/>
| |
| − | | |
| − | == Journals ==
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_party|Obia'Syela Gildre Party (March 2018)]]'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_march|Obia'Syela March/April 2018]]'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''[[Arnickles_Renodin/Maura/OS_may|Obia'Syela May 2018]]''' | |
