Chamberlain Family/Chamberlain Family RP log

Chamberlain Roleplays: The Conquest of Kazan - Catherine and Nivemus

Nivemus make war upon the Obsidian Islands for a foothod in the Omsk peninsula.

Chamberlain Roleplays: The book of Ora - Kristina

Kristina makes journeys in faith becoming the most recent Oracle of Ora, her explorations of her power lead her down paths she would not have dreamed of treading resulting in her decimation of the East Continents most potent tyrant Atanamir of Umber.

Chamberlain Roleplays: Faith and Duty - Catherine and Kristina

Catherine longs for easier times and the sisters contemplate the demands of faith and duty.

Chamberlain Roleplays: The Death of Phantaria - Hadrian

As the colony dies, Hadrian remains the last of the nobles of old Terran who had sought freedom as the Lords of Phataria, the crumbling walls of the library at Chateau Saffalore prompt his thoughts to stray to better times and chances lost.

Chamberlain Roleplays: The joining of Crowns - Catherine and guests

Catherine consents to marry the errant Duke of Primus Garas Gabanus, the match is for more than love but also a hope for legitimacy and peace for the neonate realm,  - however as with most things, the wedding does not proceed as planned.

Chamberlain Roleplays: The Collected Wisdom of Angus the Lowborn - Angus

The adventurer enobled.

Chamberlain Roleplays: Rape of the Queen - Catherine Garas Gabanus and Brigdha Dubhaine

During the war of independence a heavily pregnant Catherine finds herself at the mercy of Ecthelion Tezokian and his men.  What transpires leads to a spiral of madness and violence.

Chamberlain Roleplays: One night in Reeds. - Hadrian and Assembled

The war with the Daimons has seen Nothoi become a hub for refugees.  Now the Daimon over-lord Jactosh makes the journey with his minions to destroy the city.  The High Priestess seeks to take matters into her own hands and legends are born on a night of terror.

Strange Luck

With her rapid movement amongst the lands, it had taken Lord Wolf's out-rider some time to reach her with the gift from her friend Lord Malakai.

Smiling she looked down at the small velvet bag and the gold Oran lying next to the note. She was touched that Lord Wolf had not only found the coin but had seen fit to send it to her. With all of the rogue incursions over the past weeks, she was yet to receive him following his trip to Caligus. At first she had thought the coin must be some gift from the south, perhaps from King Actron himself, but this was something much more special. The coin of destiny. The Oran that had decided the fate of the nation, for better or for worse. Strange luck indeed that she should be named the monarch of Nivemus on the flight of such a coin. There was nothing special about it, the crest of Uzamaki, opposite the imprint of the White Tree, so fairly old, but certainly not uncommon.

This was not the first coin that had been given to her. She remembered the night in the banqueting hall of Kazakh, when the great Silvertongue, had gifted her an old silver Oran. He had staggered drunkenly toward her, boasting of the maid he was set to deflower that very night. Catherine remembered vividly the ranks stench of the ale and how she had thought that the young Lord must be deeply inebriated to believe that the woman was a maid, and even more misguided to think that he had the capacity in his drunken state to pluck her flower. She had always been fond of Sylvus Alumaani, he was her polar opposite, carefree, brash and fanciful. She often found herself wondering what had become of the man. She, Lord Wolf and Lord Alumaani, had grown together through the penninsula war. The silver oran was Sylvus' gift to her at the end of the fighting. Like him, it was shiny and not quite what it seemed. The coin was old, there was no house crest, so it predated even Kronogos Talius. On the head side was the face of the Goddess, on the reverse was.... the face of the Goddess.

She took the coin from the folds of her bodice and placed it alongside the coin she had just received from Lord Wolf. Placing the silver Oran into the velvet bag she penned a brief note to Lord Wolf, it read:

"Next time make sure they use this one"

Silvertongue

The last of the monsters fell under the black hail of arrows. The plagues had been repeated and bloody over the past weeks but this crew had offered little resistance to the nobles of Nivemus. Returning to her tent Catherine sent her scribes to look for Captain Ewald.

Alone, she was so rarely alone, she enjoyed the moments, loosing the cuffs of her hauberk she splashed cool water on her face. Ewald would be with the troops, she knew she had a whiles before she would be disturbed. Removing her armour she settled herself in a simple shift and began to unbraid her hair. Her handmaid would be disgruntled to find she had cared for her own needs, but Catherine was used to being self-sufficient, it had taken much for her to accept the service of the retinue she now commanded as Kronagos. As her hair shook free she felt the tension ease in her face. She reached for an apple and guiltily began to look through the scrolls and reports the scribes had been asking her to review for the past day and a half.

"Catherine of Oroya in less than her battle armour, that's a sight I never thought to see."

She dropped the apple and snatched up a dagger, turning to the entrance of her tent she stood agape. Ewald and three of her body guards burst after the man and he was immediately on his knees with four blades at his neck. A flurry of thoughts went through her shocked brain, the man disarmed and surrounded by Nivemus steel, raised his shaggy head and smiled at her and winked. All thoughts abandoned she dropped the dagger and commanded the men back. For a moment she thought to go to him, to pull him into an embrace. Instead she turned and shouldered a house gown over her shift. Ewald and the body guards regarded her anxiously.

"Silvertongue..." she turned back to the men, "Where, by Ora have you been?"

Arrival in Oligarch

Her sister had suggested a litter, more regal she had argued, feminine. Her sister was ever the diplomat. Catherine sat sidesaddle on her bay mare. The groomsmen had oiled her coat and she bore the colours of Nivemus from a standard with the shield of the Chamberlain's beneath. She had conceded to a few of her sisters demands, she had removed her armor and wore a pale blue gown; the maunts had braided her hair and she wore the Oran diadem. She hadn't been to Oligarch since she had fought alongside Sirion to secure the city from the ill-fated city state of Fane. Now the huge ancient gates stood open before her. The wood was scarred from the many battles that had attempted unsuccessfully to breach this opening, and now as the Kronagos of Nivemus, she passed them unmolested. A small crowd of Oligarchians had collected, Nivemus had never been a terribly popular realm with this city and they greeted her with pensive intrigue. Even in the midst of war and dramatic change within the realm, they sought sight of a Queen. Perhaps she should have come in a litter after all.

Her own troops and those of the Gottfried's and Wolf's lined the street on both sides as she passed, looking to her left she noted the skirted troops of Lord Pucker and alongside them the men of Sir Rowland, Dame Lucienne and Lord Scorpio. She regarded each of the colours of the houses with pride as she passed. She noted that Lady Verita, still had not decided upon her colours, and her men yet flew only the banner of Nivemus. Perhaps the coming war would help her decide on something appropriate. The last time she had been amongst such a volume of men at arms she had been a marshal, at war with the Obsidian Isles. Now she was something else, a leader of a different type. How hard she had found it to allow others to lead in this war, but everyone had a role to play.

Ewald and Dekmar rode at her side, her shadows, ever vigilant even among such a volume of her countrymen. As she neared the end of the rows of troops, Sir Rowland stepped forward and took the reigns of her horse, guiding her forward to the gates of the ducal palace. His armor was a little more dented than when she had first seen it, he had shaved his head and in these few short months, already she noted his physique hardening from the young man who had emerged from the academy to a leader of men. Dame Lucienne stepped forward and assisted her from her horse. She was glad to see the slight noblewoman had acceded to her wishes and was dressed in a green gown not unlike her own. Lucienne had been sent to be a handmaid but was quickly proving herself as a warrior. Dame Ariadne was nowhere to be seen, Catherine had hoped she would join with Lucienne and herself, but it seemed it was not to be the case. Passing into the grounds of the ducal palace, she was joined by the military council. The men, in their full dress armor fell in an arc about her. She took Lord Ketchums arm and allowed him to guide her toward the delegation of Eponllyn's nobles.

She had never seen so many of the southern nobles before. In fact she reflected sadly, she had never visited the true homelands of Eponllyn, and with the advance of the ice, it was unlikely she ever would. Lord Ketchum quietly informed her of the names of those whom he knew, and speculated as to those he did not. They were largely dark in coloring, with striking features so unlike the paler folk of Nivemus. Her own blonde hair and pale skin, made her stand out somewhat among these nobles.

A heavily accented voice drew the room to an immediate silence:

"Catherine of Nivemus. Eponllyn bids you welcome."

Turning abruptly to her right, she saw the man, slightly shorter than she had expected, though he was seated, swarthy with a well kept beard. He wore no crown but the command his voice held over the room immediately identified him. Offering her hand she bowed her head, dipping a brief curtsey.

"King Garin, at last we meet."

Braelin and Padraig

So the old squire McManus had finally died. Catherine remembered well how the man had visited the Marshes when her despised uncle Jared had still been in tenure. The pair had drank together, gambled and whored together. She had little recollection of his wife, though as she pondered the situation, she was unsure whether to feel pity or happiness for the woman that the foul man was dead. She did remember the children a little. The eldest daughter had been friends with Kristina. That was until the father lost her in a bet and she was married off at her flowering. Strange, she couldn't even remember the girls name now... She often wondered if it was the daughters fate that had drawn Kristina to take holy orders. There was no oath of chastity in Ora's service, many of the maunts had families but Kristina wore her chastity as a shield.

And now here were the other two. Braelin McManus had always been a slightly unnerving girl, Catherine remembered her quietly on the fringes. Big eyed and watchful. She must only have been 6 or 7 at the time. She remembered her Aunt Isabel had arranged for a governess for the girl but it had been many years since she had seen or heard from her. And now she was mistress of her own estate, she would watch her progress carefully.

Padraig McManus had been the girls polar opposite. A beautiful boy, not handsome, truly beautiful. He went amongst all of the Chamberlain children entrancing them with his merry ways and his lively eyes. He had been fast friends with her half-sister Lorelai, allowing himself to be subject to numerous mock marriages at her behest. Even at 5 she remembered vividly how nobody could bear to say no to him. She and her brothers would take him everywhere with them. She even remembered taking him on her horse as they went hunting. Why he had turned up in Oberndorf rather than at the estate in Oroya was a little bewildering to her. As Dame of Oroya in what seemed a long distant life, she remembered hearing word of the squire McManus and his continued debauchery, but she heard nothing of Braelin and only fleeting wisps of Padraig, but nothing to suggest a divide in the family.

And now they were of age and would take their blades for Nivemus.

Interesting.

Aunt Isabel's Parlor

Catherine sat in her great aunts parlor. The ancient woman had been brought up in virtual captivity with Catherine's great grandmother, but had remained of pleasant humor and her generosity had done much to ensure the maintenance of some level of comfort for her father when Jared had bastardised his line.

"The maunts say your sister has rid the continent of King Atanamir"

"The maunts say a lot of things Aunt Isabel, I could drive all of my forces at Atanamir and he would find some way to prevail. Anyway he's not the King, he is only the regent now." Catherine had been hearing rumours spreading throughout the city over the past days and a sense of nervous and pervasive energy was evident.

Isabel shrugged her bony shoulder: "There are greater powers than the armies of men, Kate, you should not be so dismissive." Her aunt looked sagely across the parlor table.

"She is a priestess. Atanamir is a warrior of some note. Just how would she..."

"She is Ora's priestess Catherine, don't disregard what cannot be explained by power of steel and rending of flesh. This is Ora's land." The old woman pushed away from the table. "Catherine, a queen or Kronagos you may be, but always remember there are powers far beyond you and in the end everyone is called to answer for their sins."

She swept from the room in a turn of speed and dignity Catherine was surprised the old woman could still muster. Her cheeks reddening Catherine fingered the edge of her glass, 'queen or Kronagos' right now she felt more of a frightened child.

The Wolf and the Queen

The sun dappled glade was a quiet part of the city. The trees sheltered the clearing and theh wind crafted a susurrus of whispers through the leaves. She could hear her heart beating in her head. Agreeing to a training match was a girlish folly, especially one she knew with certainty she should lose, but she had always found it hard to say no when it came to the White Wolf. She had come on foot, dismissing Dekmar and Ewald at the fringes of the woodlands so that she could walk alone. They protested, but this was her city, in her Kingdom, if she was not safe here she had no mandate to rule. Also she would not have put it past either of the men to involve themselves in the swordplay on her behalf. Single combat should be just that, one-on-one.

As she expected he was there before her, also alone, he stood at the far side of the clearing leaning in a manner he must have thought looked relaxed, but the nervous tension was evident as he adjusted his posture repeatedly. They were old friends, but for just a second, a second too long, she could not find words. He pushed himself upright and then began to duck in a bow before quickly righting himself:

"White Wolf," she called, "I had half expected you to send your brother, so afraid you would be of your Kronagos with a sword." She immediately regretted her words, they sounded so silly as they fell from her lips. In truth they both knew she was far more proficient with a bow than a sword, Malakai was a kingslayer.

"No offence Kate, but we are both more afraid of Lady Kristina." He reddened, perhaps at the jest, or perhaps at the informality. Catherine found herself laughing. A large smile spread across Malakai's face and he seemed to relax a little.

"As you should be old friend." She drew her blade, she had owned the weapon for nigh on twenty years, it had had new grips and guard in that time but the blade had been reliable and sharp. Now it felt heavy and unfamiliar, she adjusted her grip. She felt Malakai's eyes on her.

"I have been too long with my scribes and too short with my trainers." She laid the sword down, exhaled and retrieved it. Rolling her shoulders in the soft leather jerkin, she moved to the centre of the clearing: "Try not to kill me."

Malakai moved to stand opposite to her. Wordlessley they began. Both immediately fell into defensive postures. She had expected him to come sraight forward, he was renowned for his trick moves. Circling one another they began with tentative jabs and parries. He was quicker than her and lighter in his movements. Her guard quickly failed and she heard more than felt the tear of fabric in her sleeve. Malakai recoiled from his own attack looking nervously at the sword and the gash in the fabric. Catherine returned to combat with fury and dedication, pushing back at him. Her onslaughts felt that it lasted hours though in truth it would have been mere seconds. It was enough though to release the swordsman within Malakai. He fought back parrying and thrusting, driving her backward to the edge of the clearing. His grace and poise pushed her to her knees and with a downward thrust her sword was jarred from her hand. It was over and she was defeated.

He offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. He had strong hands. As she was pulled to her feet she brushed against him. Stepping back she was abashed.

His voice sounded thick: " My beloved Kronagos, I thank you for this meeting, I was anxious to be at your company, it has been too long since we could speak with some informality. I miss the time when you were Marshall and I was your second. I miss you in battle armour and with your ferocious looking eyes. I miss the woman that took my heart."

In that moment she realised how desperately she had wanted to be in his company also, and how she had missed his stalwart presence. Many seconds had passed and she realised that neither of them was speaking, they were simply looking at one another, staring into each others eyes. They were so close she felt they were breathing the same air, her nose filled with the musky scent of his oiled leather jerkin. Looking down she realised that they yet had their fingers intertwined. Tilting her head she looked back into his earnest face. Unbidden she felt her free hand move to caress his cheek, her fingers sliding into his hair.

He stood in silence staring into her eyes.

Anton The Reaper of Moeth

The Canonisation

Roleplay from Keirdynos Karstark (5 hours, 55 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (57 recipients)

   Anton Chamberlain, Knight of Saenna has been killed by Crimson Swordsmen (11).

Ordering his men to reform and regroup, he came upon Sir Anton's corpse...

Keirdynos ordered his men to halt and lift up the body of his comrade and fellow Sandalakian knight and noble..

Sir Karstark, Dwayne who was ordered to carry message to the command post where Lady Griffin was saw that Sir Anton was slain by the Crimson Swordsmen!

Looking down at the corpse, now borne on the shoulders of 6 of his 12 men with the other 5 each assisting one wounded compatriot... Keirdynos could only wonder if his brothers were doing any better...

I want more details about this Crimson Swordsmen. Who commands and where do they hail from. This, will not go unnoticed amongst us. Even now i heard there was a missive from the Tassie marshal though i knew not what the missive was about.

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Report from Kurlock Lapallanch (3 hours, 38 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (57 recipients) Followers of Kurlock,

Kurlock here by bestow Good Anton the title of 'Saint' for his service to the winged ones.

Kurlock believes he is the prime example of all Sandals. May all Sandals one day reach his level of dedication.

Kurlock Lapallanch Wyvern Incarnate of Sandalak Royal of Sandalak star [reply to sender] | [ignore] | [userdetails] | [vulgarity]

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Letter from Kenley La Pointe (3 hours, 13 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (57 recipients) A drink to Saint Anton! Eternal slayer of the heathens!

Kenley La Pointe Baron of Cave of Guilt star [reply to sender] | [ignore] | [userdetails] | [vulgarity]

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Letter from Earon Hemmings (2 hours, 22 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (57 recipients) Sir Anton shall be avenged in a way that shall make those Tassies cower behind their walls.

Pray, send a battle report and the name of the one who slayed him.

Earon Hemmings Knight of Dwamon star [reply to sender] | [ignore] | [userdetails] | [vulgarity]

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Roleplay from Misty Ketchum (just in) Message sent to everyone in your realm (57 recipients) Looking at the battlefield and the bloody battle that just occurred, Lady Griffin Misty feels some horror. It is not that she does not like the battles. She feels hungry for battles. But even then, seeing the lifeless corpse of a fellow noble, the heroic Sir Anton is too much to bear for her. Sir Anton personally led his men to the frontline, taking the attacks. It was his job, his dedication. Lady Griffin Misty almost waved away Taselak Warbringer messenger as immediately as the messenger comes, due to her sadness.

Nodding sadly at the messenger, Lady Griffin Misty could only offer a short reply message to Taselak Warbringer. Another messenger coming in, from Immortal Wvyern Incarnate Kurlock himself. Reading his message, she understood what she need to do. She stands up and pens a message personally to the whole realm, that all warriors offer a moment of respect for Saint Anton. Sir Anton has been recognized as Saint Anton in recognition of his numerous contributions.

Lady Griffin Misty walks and stands outside her camp, looking at the warriors rallying their troop. Each of her walkingstep is a slow step, as she attempts to overcome her sadness. Trying not to waste too much time dwelling on her sadness, Lady Griffin Misty asks her scribes to gather all military reports as soon as they come. She sends off one of her messengers with a question to ask Marshal Keirdynos "Saint Anton has certainly found his place among Wvyern and Griffin faithful. We need inspiration and he is the one who certainly can inspire us to fight back the tide of the infidels. By the way, does Marshal Keirdynos find out who is leading Crimson Swordsmen in today battle?"