Difference between revisions of "Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/July"

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Myr bowed to Nicholas and pulling on the reins of his steed he walked away ushering his horse - "come Dauntless, we will show Emyhr the trick with a bucket and a horseshoe, he will love it" - but before he could disappear from view he turned around and looked William in the eye throwing - "Sir William, I hope to meet you in a more appropriate situation, there is one matter I would wish to discuss."
 
Myr bowed to Nicholas and pulling on the reins of his steed he walked away ushering his horse - "come Dauntless, we will show Emyhr the trick with a bucket and a horseshoe, he will love it" - but before he could disappear from view he turned around and looked William in the eye throwing - "Sir William, I hope to meet you in a more appropriate situation, there is one matter I would wish to discuss."
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== 12th July ==
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=== Autumn Day -- [[Dantooine]] ===
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==== Nicholas Archival ====
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<blockquote>
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"Good Nicholas. I would like nothing more than to stay in this ambivalent company and continue our discussion but I must find Sir Emyhr, he was gravely wounded last time I saw him and I heard he also intended to attend the festival. Have you seen him by any chance?" - Myr
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</blockquote>
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Nicholas considered for a moment, before shaking his head. "One of my stewards informed me that Sir Emhyr has arrived for the festival, but I've not come across him myself yet. No doubt he's hereabouts somewhere; if I see him before you, I'll let him know of your search."
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After Myr gave his farewells and departed, the Earl turned momentarily to William. "I assume this goes without saying, but I'll be hoping there's no hostility between the two of you here," he said, gesturing to the departing knight, in reference to his parting words. "Though I suppose it may add to the theatrics of the day."
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With that, Nicholas gave a brief, amused smile, before straightening up. "But for now; Earth's Hall could certainly use another courtier, and should you choose that path, I would lend you any advice I can. Until then, though, I'd best return to the manor - no doubt there's some more paperwork I need to grant my seal."

Revision as of 19:18, 12 July 2018

1st July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

William Fitz Roberts

The fight was on. Helga was clearly the better fighter, parrying her opponent’s thrusts and strikes with ease, and yet she sensed some raw talent underneath some of his less clumsy blows. She racked a few easy strikes across his arms and legs, but he only cried out once. He did manage to strike her a couple of times and she was forced to duck to avoid being hit in the eye. She was just beginning to enjoy herself when she heard a shrill shriek of indignant rage

‘There you are, Giesla and Helga come here this instant!’

Helga immediately disengaged from the visibly disappointed Drake and said ‘Bugger, it’s Henriette’

‘I heard that young lady, just wait until your father hears about this’, Drake turned to see a very short, blonde woman purposefully advancing towards them, flanked by some Bravi in the Fitz Roberts colours. She was a pretty woman, that was clear, but in that instance her face was twisted into pure unadulterated rage that made her utterly terrifying

‘Running off on your own, stealing food, causing a ruckus, you’re supposed to be young nobles not gutter rats’

Both Helga and Giesla immediately bowed their heads. Helga spoke for them ‘We’re sorry, governess. We were bored and we…’

‘Oh, so you were bored were you?’ Henriette’s shrill voice went even higher, ‘your Phrycian lessons not good enough for you? Tell me, what would happen if every person in your father’s camp just wandered off on a whim when they were bored?’

‘It would be anarchy, governess’ Giesla muttered, her eyes still low in shame

‘You’re coming home right now’ Henriette bellowed in fury and snatched up Helga’s arm, before spotting Drake, ‘and who in the name of Darka is this?’

‘That’s Drake Bluelake’ Said Giesla, sending Drake a nasty smile knowing that she had done the exact thing he had asked her not to, ‘he asked us not to tell anyone who he was’

‘Another Highborn? You’re coming with us too young man’

Before Drake could do anything, he was swept up by one of the Bravi. A few hours later, he was in the camp standing alone in the centre of a circle of tents, the twins having been given over to their mother for discipline. Drake waited, unsure of what was going to happen to him. It was then that the flap of the tent in front of him opened up and out of stepped the largest man that Drake had ever seen, dressed in a simple black doublet.

The man towered over the small figure, before smiling and kneeling down

‘Who are you then?’

The boy gave his most perfect bow, knowing it was useless to hide his identity now. “I'm Drake Bluelake Heir of House, milord Imperial Marshal … ? You *are* the Imperial Marshal, right? I heard you were tall, but, I'd never have imagined…” his blue eyes looked fearlessly into William's “You must be able to see very far, milord.”

William chuckled at the boy’s words. ‘I can indeed boy. Helga tells me that you wish to join the army and fight alongside the countess Tyra? I can bring you to her, but our paths might not cross for some time. Until then, would you like to travel with me and be a part of my retinue?’

Drake couldn't believe his luck. He wasn't being sent back! The boy smiled one of his big smiles and assumed the position of one of William's guards. “I’m at your service, milord! And I don't want to be a guest, make me work to earn my stay, sir - milord” he hesitated a bit, considering his options regarding his family “But could you send a letter to Lady Tyra telling her where I am?”

‘As you wish, I shall send the letter presently’

2nd July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Luarin Bowker

As the sun sets from the sky, take a drink and remember Him. Our great Emperor. For without him, we would see no sun as Lurians. Do not stop at just you, treat your men to an ale. It is Lurian gold we use, and not D'Haran. Luria Nova has always provided, and it is faith in our Empire - our Emperor - that has always made this so. Let not your thoughts be poisoned, but rejoice. Perfection and peace are but things to strive for. We will never truly have either - but our good Suzerain Emperor Aldrakar Renodin is our best hope of finding it.

Long live the Emperor, long live the Empire!

The Queen raise her glass seconding Lady Isabella words.

Long live the Emperor, long live the Empire! My arms are yours, as long as you need it. My weapons, Lords and knights, will fight at your side as one.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Rejoice, the Emperor returns!" - could be heard from outside the Heir's Gate windows. Myr pulled out his ocarina and whistled the melody of the Imperial March.

Autumn Evening -- Dantooine

Kiran Mir-Ashtan

The Diversion of Nid Tek - Sunset

The sun sat low on the horizon, the sunrise had not faired them well as Kiran contemplated events still within his armour. Gambeson beneath chest and armpieces of chainmail, Splinted vambraces and grieves and his head coifed with a basinet as his helm. As was expected he carried his shield adorned his family crest, at least the shield was somewhat fine. The armour was rough and scratched it had survived the test of time and experienced patches, some of which were relatively new.

His sword had been rendered useless during one of numerous battles within Matten Dews and he still had time to wait before a commission could be completed, given he would need to spend time with a smith to have it balanced appropriately. For now, he had decided to employ a hand axe to aid him in the melee and joined his retinue in the deployment of ranged weaponry through the use of Javelin's at least in the case of not engaging in the melee he could keep his arm fresh. He hoped a strategic retreat after causing some damage to the monster herds would at least buy time for his allies to make preparations. They had lost the Imperial Marshal, he did not return from the battlefield after sunrise and could well have been captured or killed and the Chancellor of Swordfell had been wounded. This just left Kiran and his Ember Helms under the Captaincy of Sevonina active in the region.

They would aim to meet the creatures of rough terrain with the intentions of using it to prevent the pursuit after engaging the creatures, though Kiran and Sevonina knew they would of course suffer casualties and likely fatalities in the battle.

The engagement would begin with the group closing with a moderate distance of the creatures, where his most accurate members of the retinue would engage with longer ranged weapons. It seemed that they were in luck as a large cluster numbering around twenty six beasts of a quite sizeable nature, suffered a single casualty likely extenuated as the creature was crushed under its fellows hooves. Though the continued to close as his retinue began their second volley which once again scored another casualty under those same hooves.

The Monsters unorderly mass made up three reasonable clusters on the field of battle, the front made up of the two herds. One the aforementioned twenty six strong herd, with a nearby thirteen strong group of smaller monsters. For the melee engagement Kiran had dispatched Sevonina with a well armoured section of the retinue to prevent encirclement as he remained with the rest and their peltasts to focus on the larger beasts.

The biggest of the creatures bore down on Kiran's remnants as they closed to melee, javelins met with the creatures causing wounds to adorn their body and most fortunately bringing the largest of the large group to its four knees. Kiran supported by his men were able to swiftly dispatch such a wounded creature with axe, spear and small blade. It seemed luck was on their side as the creatures swiftly descended into panic and routed from the battlefield. Luck however did not side well with Sevonina and her section, they struggled against the smaller creatures whom had engaged them in melee swiftly tearing apart a number of the unit. However, there job was done and casualties were building up. In a sense, it was the human's retreating for the hills. The battle had cost them ten of their thirty strong forces during this battle, though they had been able to carry out seven of their wounded in time.

Though now Kiran would have to track himself down a new main weapon, he had been left with but a knife after lodging the axe in the creatures skull. It at least served its use for its time...

3rd July

Autumn Day -- Dantooine

Goriad Gabanus

Goriad was impressed that she was aware of who he was "Lady Andrasta, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said as he made a short bow "I will escort you to the Emperor. Is there by any chance an Imperial army on its way to secure us a safe exit from Girich?"

As they walked towards the hiding place Goriad could not help himself "Milady, if I may ask, in what way are you related to Cador Andrasta?"

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

Tyra walked drawing shallow breaths on account of her ribs and feeling slightly uncomfortable at being treated so courteously. She was also noticing her savior's light steps, nearly silent, and constant, though discreet, vigilance.

"The army is rallying in Mattan Dews. But since the monsters are starting to travel there... Maybe they won't even come. As for King Cador, I don't really know to what degree we are related. My grandfather lived a long time in the South Islands, and he was an Andrasta... Sennianus was his name. I grew up at the Andrasta manor in Beluaterra... Or rather, outside of it." With a little amusement she said "Sennianus the Mad, grandfather to Tyra Thunderborn, what a bloodline we make..."

The hideout was cleverly devised. Branches were arranged in a way to conceal a camp made between two large boulders. The Emperor's tent was ahead but Tyra preferred going to the fire to grab some food and drink. She'd never met him outside the battlefield... Maybe now was not the time either.

"Earl Goriad, tell me, where did you learn to walk like that? Are you a hunstman?"

Goriad Gabanus

Goriad smiled at Tyra "Sennianus the Mad, I believe I have seen his name somewhere before although I am uncertain where. I am certain stories about such a man should provide interesting conversation. I do hope he was not like Arkady R the mad here upon Dwilight," and he continued walking until she asked him if he was a huntsman.

"A huntsman milady? At times when it is needed, although my scouts usually do so for me. No I grew up in Rettlevile milady and was there when the great hordes ran over the western kingdoms. One is either to adapt, or perish in the darkest of times. When stars shine bright in the sky, they serve as a reminder of the times when men has lost its way, when we have brought disharmony to this world and we have always been punished severely for it," he sighed for a moment "Look around you milady, only those able to adapt will survive."

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

Tyra looked around the camp, and yes, she could see how each tent had been deliberately set up as to cover an entrance, fire pits doubled as gathering points and strategic traps for wandering beasts. These people knew what they were doing.

"I see what you mean, by adapting. While I've grown up around beasts and undead myself, it was never leading soldiers or servants... As children we'd just climb trees, hide in holes. But you seem to have both the huntsman skill to move discreetly and the strategy to keep a larger group safe." She frowned "But as for disharmony and punishment... Punishment for what? And isn't disharmony just another face of harmony? Like destruction is necessary so there can be construction? Endlessly cycling?"

She was trying to make sense of this against the lessons on Tor she got from Karibash.

Goriad Gabanus

As Tyra spoke, Goriad looked at the young women with a look of intrigue "Do they no longer teach the words of the Holy Prophet Seoras in his homelands?" he responded. "When he died and returned to us, he had seen the truth of our world. The bloodstars in the air do not simply strengthen our emotions, they seem to do so with a cause," but just as he attempted to explain the theory, one of his scouts ran in yelling "They are coming milord, Lurian soldiers, they are coming!"

Goriad looked at Tyra again, "Perhaps another time then milady. Shall we meet the men and guide them to their SEmperor. He has been healing and my healers have cared for his wounds, so hopefully he'll have the strength once more to address the men."

Goriad, 55 years of age now looked at the young lady in front of him "how youth travels quickly," he thought as he smiled and turned to the scout who had entered "Bring them to us, we will see if the Suzerain Emperor is able to address them."

Emyhr le Craint

As camp settled in Girich, the men began the process of distributing rations and drink for the benefit of the Empire. A scout returned back to Emyhr's tent, who was stood there with Captain Gustaf marking points of interest into the map itself.

"Sir Emyhr, we have located the Emperor. His is the care of Earl Goriad of Ashrak, a nobleman from Swordfell."

Emyhr looked upon the scout for a moment, the face of disbelief for a second before vanishing into t determined look. Grabbing his equipment and an assortment of fine good that were brought to Girich with him.

"Gustaf, prepare to mount. We must reach the Emperor at once. In addition, we must thank Earl Goriad for the care he has provided for our glorious Emperor."

Stepping out the tent, he called over one of the stablehands that has come along with the group.

"Bring the two fastest horses at once."

The young boy rushed off to where a few horses had been mounted, bringing back to stallions adorned with a rough looking saddle and replaced it with Emyhr's personal saddle. Clambering onto the horse, Emyhr began to set off into the direction that the scout pointed out on the map. Captain Gustaf was struggling to catch up, Emyhr was riding at such a pace it would seem as if he was gliding across the ground.

Finally reaching the location as to where the Emperor, Earl Goriad and Countess Tyra had been camped. Upon reaching the entrance to the camp, he dismounted the horse and approached a guard standing by.

"I am Sir Emyhr Le Craint of Poryatu, Vice-Marshal of Iuvenilis Attingas Parvulorum, Currently overseeing the liberation of Girich back under Lurian control. My scout tells me that the Emperor is recovering here. I wish to seek audiance with Earl Goriad Gabanus and check on the condition of his eminence Emperor Aldrakar Renodin. I bring supplies and goods as tribute, both as a gift and also to resupply your camp."

Aldrakar Renodin

Walking out of the tent Aldrakar was dressed for travel. Little time was afforded to either friend or foreigner or even native Lurians. Horse! The command boomed from his lips and with purpose he took the reigns and hoisted himself into the saddle. Goriad! The silver City, seek me there, there is business I must attend to. Excellent healers by the way. This'll be a nice scar to remember. His mount pawed the ground. Dame Tyra! You, are also required. Do not be late.

With that the Emperor rode off and trailing behind where but a few retainers and officials scrambling to keep up.

Tyra Andrasta Bluelake

At the Emperor's outbursting exit, Tyra turned to Goriad, sharing a dumbfounded look and laughed. "Well, I suppose he got better and we should be going! Want to join me on the road to Askileon? I'm not from Luria, I have really little knowledge of whatever the stars are." she winked "You can tell me. Apparently I'm learning about all the religions of Luria, don't really know why!"

As she readied to leave camp, she noticed Sir Emyhr dumfounded by the Emperor's exit just the same.

Bennet Selemnir

Bennet rode through the city of Askileon. He was surprised to find the colours more vivid. The buildings more immense. It was funny the way knowing death would do that to a man. Even one so practical as him.

Captain Haldred joined him. The man had been by his side since his ascension to Marshal, and he valued his opinion. As well as his friendship, though that was less willingly given, Bennet could admit.

Bennet had woken into a Luria that seemed very different. He was not sure if that was the course of events while he was abed, or if it was him. It did not matter, in the end. He would do what he must to maintain the order he was used to. Whatever the result.

His horse shifted awkwardly. Haldred put his hand on Bennet's shoulder. He was about to admonish the man, but softened. If Haldred could intentionally ignore the blood suddenly leaking through his chest mail, he could ignore the man's impropriety. And even appreciate it. He was not sure he could stand without it, both metaphorically and physically.

Bennet gritted his teeth as the harbour came into view. He dreaded the ferry, but appreciated the time it afforded. He would stand as tall as before when he rejoined the army.

Until then, he leaned into Haldred's hand just a little harder.

4th July

Autumn Evening -- Nid Tek

Ashley Piper

What a naughty bunch these Lurians, so passionate and direct. Good stuff, I will fit nicely here.

5th July

Autumn Evening -- Askileon Purlieus

Jonsu

A young woman emerged from the catacombs of Askileon, and squinted in the bright daylight. Her copper red hair shone in the light, and her stunning green eyes adapted slowly. She clutched a crude mace, and wore bits of cheap leather armor, and was covered in rotten bits of viscera. She made her way to a public fountain, and washed herself and her gear, drawing stares from the gathered public. She felt a firm hand grasp her shoulder and spin her about. She gasped, and withdrew somewhat from the Imperial Guardsman.

"By what right do you carry arms, and stink up the square with this rot? Ye belong back home, working the fields and popping out children." The guard growled. One of his compatriots jeered, and chimed in,

"I'll take her home Sergeant, and show her how it's properly done, that I will!"

The young lady glared at the guard, trying not to show that his grip was hurting her.

"My name is Jonsu, and I am a Royal Ranger, you will..." her sentence was cut short by a cry of pain as the guard slapped her across the face.

"You must be out of yer mind, claiming that name. Perhaps we should show you what we thi... ARG!" The guard hollered as Jonsu brought her knee into his groin. She whirled out of his grasp and raised her mace and buckler. She snarled at the guardsmen, but inside she knew that she was in trouble if she had to handle this alone.

7th July

Autumn Evening -- Santoo

Sofia Nistalia

The infection took her toll on her, every day was filled with a mix of agony and sorrow as she felt her own body decay, praying to the gods for the illness to go away as the healers treated her wounds. Every day she fought against the infection, her skin turning pale and constantly drenched in sweat, covered in nothing more than blood-stained rags, the viscountess fought against the demons within her. As the infection spread, she removed her withered left eye in her delirious state, yelling insults to the gods before falling unconscious.

And then, clarity. After weeks of treatment, the healers gasped at what seemed like a miracle. One morning, they entered Sofia's tent to find her standing, her legs shaking but with enough strenght to stand. Her skin still pale, and drenched in sweat and dried blood stained her garbs.

"Bring me captain Adric and those still loyal. He's been recieving my letters, and I've been idle for too long."

The healers blinked, immediatly rushing to bring the handful of men still left with her. There was a hint of purpose amongst the sick words of Sofia, a spark of determination re-ignited by sheer will to live.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"My Lord, we should march out. Orders from Marshal, requests from Grand Panetiere, matters of the order..." - captain pleaded.

Myr interrupted him harshly - "is Sir Emyhr recovered?"

"Not to the best of my knowledge." - was the answer that earned stern silence and unflinching resolve. Captain knew then and there that Myr would not allow hordes to capture his wounded friend. Indeed he would stand against monsters, undead, legendary Zuma creatures or Tor himself. Not with his dying breath would he leave without care for a brother in arms.

Nicholas Archival

The day of Nid Tek's Harvest Festival arrives, centred in the lakeside estate of Ambervale. The hustle and bustle of the common peasantry, blended with the region's minor aristocracy and merchant class, makes for a colourful and warming scene. Despite the most recent hardships suffered, the people appear determined to enjoy their celebration without pause nor restraint - in dark times, the light is to be savoured. The town itself is awash with stands, pavilions and all manner of assorted festivities.

Farmers and salesmen from far and wide ply their trade, to showcase and sell the fruits of their labours. Wealthy vineyard owners present a plethora of vintages, each more expensive and renowned than the last. The more industrious of the populace have crafted entertainment for the region's children, with puppet shows and small rides dotted throughout the fields surrounding the settlement.

Within the town centre, a stage has been erected from finely sculpted oak. It appears to have been built for the purposes of any speeches or cultural traditions. Before it is the fairly sizeable square of Ambervale, whereupon several workers and builders continue the final plans for one key portions of the celebrations and festivities - any peasants consulted may reveal that it is for the 'Fertility Dance', which is probably less practical than the terminology suggests.

All in all, it is well in keeping with traditional, rural festivals, with all the trappings one might suspect. However, there is a certain added grandeur and wealth to the occasion, no doubt supplied by the frequent investments of Earl Nicholas' own family. For those lofty aristocrats of Luria in attendance, there are plush and comfortable quarters arranged within the manor that sits atop a nearby hill, surrounded by warm, golden fields. Nicholas himself, however, seems to not be in obvious attendance; word suggests he is moving about the town, ensuring that everything is moving along smoothly - a true administrator, in every scenario.

8th July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

Emyhr le Craint

As the morning sun rose over the horizon, the silence that follows in the aftermath of a battle remained. Emyhr, after briefly regaining consiousness, sat up and began to eat a meal that had been prepared for him. He looked out over the tents and rolling green hills of Santoo, thinking to himself before he made any action.

"Gustaf, you nearby?" Emyhr shouted from his tent, trying to stand and move before a burely man rushed in and assisted the knight to his feet.

"Sir Emyhr, it is good to see you are moving but you are still wounded. You must rest." Gustaf looked upon Emyhr's face with concern recalling the memories from the battle the previous day.

"We must leave, these letters you have piled up have called for movement. Whats the status of the men? Can you retrieve them all?"

"Most have scattered inorder to hide, I will send out scouts to retrieve them all then we can move."

"Wait, have you heard news about Sir Myr? While my memory is hazy, I remember seeing the Redmanes on the battlefield."

"They remain in Santoo. A messengers have come by to check on your condition, I believe they stayed to assist and ensure your recovery."

"That Sir Myr is a fine man, I must send a letter to inform him of the situation and so that we can prepare to move back to safety. Make sure the men are ready and I shall begin to write."

Captain Gustaf left the tent while leaving Emyhr sat at the makeshift table that had been set up for bandages and medical supplies. Moving them away, he began to write.

Tyler

A barded horse came trotting into Ambervale that day, its rider a man of great proportions. It was as if someone had shaved a bear, and put it upon a pony as one of the festivities acts. Clad head-to-toe with arms and armour near indistinguishable from the nobilities own, save the lack of coats of arms, this impressive looking warrior peered about the town square with glee. Haven't been to one of these in years, I wonder if the Tekian lasses hold up to their reputation.

Stabling his horse at a common tavern, the adventurer made his way through the twisting labyrinth of stalls and colourful arrays, soaking up the vigour and enthusiasm displayed by the locals. He was clearly out of place, as the locals could tell when one of their own was foreign, and it was rare for the common folk to leave their own villages often. A mixture of anxiety, curiousity and no doubt fear exuded from the people he passed by, whether or not he was offering them friendly greeting and a smile. This was the lot of an adventurer; suspicion from the common folk, disdain from the noble folk. But Luria was different, it was not always this cut and dry, as could be seen in the festival itself. He was not hounded away, from either parties, nor was he being watched so closely by the guard who kept an eye on proceedings.

His eye was caught by one of the stalls. A glovemaker, with some decent leatherwork on display. Tyler looked down at his own pair, worn and torn from battle and hardship on the roads. He then looked toward his coin purse, heavy with gold that was gathered from ancient catacombs and waterlogged caves in Poryatown. Shrugging, he approached and paid the man to fix his gloves whilst he was here. What's a festival without a bit of shopping? That's when the sight of the Earl puttering about the merrymaking, caught his attention. He lofted a bushy brow at that, and before he could think twice he was stalking up to the man, armed to the teeth and looming like some executioner. Tyler was not overly tall despite his appearance, but the fact he was barrel chested and built for combat made him out to be quite a bit bigger than he was. No doubt the armour helped as well.

"My liege, I would speak with you a moment!"

Nicholas Archival

In an effort to finalise the plans, so that every facet of the Festival was in fine fettle, Nicholas continued to tour the town. Many of the local common-folk beamed as he passed them by, and before long the small retinue that followed in his wake were laden will all manner of gifts; from the ripest fruit to the sturdiest boot, he accepted it all with a warm magnanimity. Even his cloak, coloured a sunburst of Autumnal amber was a prize from his favoured tailor - it certainly paid to maintain close and friendly ties with Ambervale's finest artisans.

As he strode through the streets, often pausing to exchange pleasantries with the attendees of the festival, the Earl fell to a halt, in order to respond to the call that rang near.

"My liege, I would speak with you a moment!"

The man was large, and imposing, and Nicolas was briefly taken aback by such a hardy appearance. Where he wore comfortable leathers and cloths, the man bore his armour with rugged finesse. At first glance, he was stricken by the memories of his family's master-at-arms, Sir Roderick, but that quickly subsided. Without further ado, he turned to properly regard the adventurer - for that was clearly his trade.

"You have your moment, adventurer," he replied, though not unkindly. "What is it you wish?"

Tyler

"You have your moment, adventurer," he replied, though not unkindly. "What is it you wish?" - Nicholas Archival

Tyler offered a curt bow, hardly practiced for such an occasion. "My name is Tyler," he paused mid introduction, face frozen as if time itself had stopped briefly, unable or unknowing how to continue. Clearing his throat, he smiled weakly; "Tyler of Poryatown, landed freeman and Lurian ranger. At your service. I just wanted to express my heartfelt gratitude for this occasion. It's not often the common folk can have respite from the daily struggle." He sighed, either relieved from his attempt at saving face or at the thought of his countrymen celebrating together in peace and prosperity. It was pretty clear which was the truth though. "I don't want to keep you, since you are clearly busy with the festivities." Retreating a few steps, he repeated the same sloppy etiquette as before. "With your grace, I would take my leave now. Should you require the services of a ranger, I would be honoured to be considered for the post."


Nicholas Archival

Nicholas peered at Tyler with mild amusement, as the peasant began to stumble over his initial introduction. It was not uncommon for commoners to forget their station, before hastily scrambling to prevent any further insult or offence - in truth, it did not bother him particularly, and so to see them panic was an entertaining display. Retreating a few steps, he repeated the same sloppy etiquette as before. "With your grace, I would take my leave now. Should you require the services of a ranger, I would be honoured to be considered for the post." - Tyler

With those parting words, as the adventurer began to make his escape from an awkward situation of his own making, the Earl inclined his head - just enough to show recognition. "Enjoy the Festival, Freeman Tyler. It is for all Lurians, even men who favour the caves and crypts over tilling the fields," he replied. "But do not stray too far; I foresee myself having use of the services of a man like yourself soon."

When the barrel-chested man had finally departed, Nicholas continued throughout the streets, this time headed toward his manor. Perhaps one of the noble guests had arrived; Staedtler or William, maybe. Of the two, he hoped for Staedtler.

9th July

Autumn Day -- Nid Tek

William Fitz Roberts

William arrives at the festival

William rode towards the centre of Ambervale, flanked by his wife, Anne, and his cousin, Marc Antonio. Just behind him were his daughters and Manfred, each on their own pony. His daughters rode well, Manfred not so well. He hoped the boy would grow into it, but somehow he doubted it. A week spent in an orcish cell had really put a perspective on things. William needed time away from campaigns, time to spend with his family. The letter from the Dean had given him this: he would spend the next month conducting a survey of the entirety of the Empire. He had already arranged leave with his marshal and the Imperial Constable and was quite looking forward to it. After that, he had his renovations of the poor quarter to be getting along with. But at this moment, he wanted to enjoy the sun and the festive atmosphere. A week in a dark, damp pit makes one really miss the sun

As he rode up the main road, he spied the Imperial Magistrate talking to a tall warrior-type. He turned back to his wife

‘You go on with the children, I have some business to attend to’

‘Daddy, why couldn’t Drake come with us?’ Helga asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

‘As I have already told you he is earning his keep by helping Leonardo polish the weapons in the armoury, you can play with him later’

Helga looked sad, but rode on with her mother anyway. Marc Antonio stayed, looking down in thought

‘You want me to stay William?’

‘If you wish, Marc’. William got off his horse, but saw that Nicholas had already finished his conversation and apparently hadn’t noticed him. Leading his horse by the reigns he followed the Magistrate as he rounded a corner and called out

‘Imperial Magistrate, a word if I may?’

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Yearly harvest festival in Nid Tek welcomes thee, traveller!" - if the written word could shout, the signpost on the market square would be yelling at the top of it's lungs. Myr did not mind. A bit of cheerfulness was desperately needed after recent year full of strife and sorrow. It did feel like the entire realm was on edge, about to burst into flames. Would a keg of Tekian ale quench the embers before they combust?

Myr grabbed a tankard from a nearby table as he rode on, not even bothering to dismount. Contrary to most of his peers, who practiced melee combat for practical reasons, he spent the few free moments he had on practice of horse riding and jousting. The finest knights of the epic tales were the ones on horseback - feeling at home in the saddle, wielding a formidable lance, shining bright and stealing longing sighs from maidens.

He flicked a coin for the stand owner and pointed his horse towards the center of the square, where jugglers and fire dancers were giving a show.

Nicholas Archival

As Nicholas continued his stroll through the streets of the town, a voice rang out to stop him in his tracks:

‘Imperial Magistrate, a word if I may?’ - William

He turned, with a quirked brow, to regard the speaker - Sir William. Even from afar, the man's towering build was apparent, as he awaited his approach. The gods had chosen to send him William for company, instead of Staedtler, but no doubt the man had important words to share; and, as ever, Nicholas was curious to hear them.

"Well-met, Sir William," Nicholas replied with a crisp bow of his head. "Of course, let us walk."

With that, he gestured for the two of them to continue walking up and along the street, ever in the direction of the manor. The cacophony of sounds was perhaps most loud here, down in the depths of the town, and so he continued moving toward the manor, where the voices began to recede and they could speak without such impediments.

"I am glad you could make it to the Festival; the Tekians stock great pride in this event. But I'm sure you would rather cut through the pleasantries. What do you wish to speak about?"

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Staedtler la Stylo

Staedtler was craning over a tradesman's market counter, signing delivery orders whilst running his fingers through the braided silver chains around his collar. The market was aflutter with business, music, swallow song and the unforgettable sound of coin hitting woodwork at every corner. At his feet sat baskets and boxes from today's trade, crowding his ankles like puppies, yet Staedtler had his head facing down. His eyes were lacing through the literature, his pen-hand looming above the dotted line, whilst the young carpenter coaxed it forth with practiced charm.

The handsome man idly twirled one of his ribboned dreadlocks like a dancer's cane, fanning waves of perfume into the earl's face. He spoke highly of the purchased bedroom set, his words placing more value upon the novelty of exotics over the trustworthiness of the traditional. Apostrophes and unpronounceable phlegm over oak and leather.

Staedtler ground his teeth tighter upon every stretch of the imagination he boasted. His forced, knife-blade smirk weakened evermore, and the keen-eyed carpenter noticed, and persisted further, with even more violently blunt enthusiasm. He had either began lying, or was blissfully unaware that he sounded as such. Judging from his expertise, Staedtler knew he was unlikely to be ignorant in such a close trade.

The man had seen the earl at his table, prey upon the moors, and went straight in for the kill, blades raised. However, he was sending bloodhounds out to hunt the butterflies here, and the wings of Staedtler's interest were caught adrift by other things.

Staedtler kept shooting his eye over his shoulder.

The carpenter noticed this, and leaned in close upon his elbows.

"By all means, my lord, take all the time you need," said the carpenter. "I am as patient as the stars. It's not as if I have my heart set on anything else aside from hosting happy customers today, anyway."

"I understand, my friend," Staedtler said with a stir in his voice. "My life is numbers and nonsense, so I do like to keep my eye on my money."

"Ah, yes. Money." The carpenter chuckled through a closed mouth. "What a beautiful, impatient thing. Can burn holes in pockets, y'see. No matter the coin or the coffer; silver and gold, burlap and silk."

"A bit of merchant's wisdom across the counter? And here I thought I was buying a four-poster," Staedtler joked.

"Indeed. But I see your arms are full already; fruit baskets, jewelry boxes, trinkets and gizmos." He pointed up and down Staedtler's carry. "Hence the need for the delivery, eh? No room for my wisdom or my furniture."

Staedtler pulled the pen from the paper and stood. The carpenter mirrored him in suit, almost mockingly.

"So, i'll be a good host, and give you some of my wisdom that you can fit in your silken pockets." He lowered his voice to a hoarse, crisp groan, as if the gravel beneath Staedtler's feet was talking. "Money can buy many things, but it cannot buy time. Neither can time buy money. Do not be fooled though, they are brothers; two sides of the same coin. For both, in the end, are either spent poorly, or not at all."

Staedtler bit his tongue and held his temper. He watched the strange man, but his smokey eyes were not meeting him. Instead, they were off and over Staedtler's shoulder.

"Now, my fair lord, buy the damn chair, and go and put your arm round your lady's waist." He pushed the paper back toward the earl with fingers splayed out like spider legs. "Spend your currencies well, my fair lord. This is Nid Tek, after all. There are no bad deals. Just make sure you know what you're buying."

10th July

Autumn Morning -- Poryatu

William Fitz Roberts

William and Nicholas

‘I am glad I could make it too, nearly a year spent on campaign with the final week spent in gaol really makes you appreciate the simpler life.’ At this William subconsciously rubbed his shoulder wincing at the pain there. ‘I’m in no rush, Nicholas, I have come to enjoy the festival and spend some much needed time with my daughters’

William smiled as he witnessed the hustle and bustle of the festival before they moved into quieter streets. William was not wearing his usual military garb, which he had worn all campaign. Those who knew William would be aware that he normally came to events such as these in his ceremonial armour and so would be surprised that he had chosen a fine black doublet instead, the only adornments being a chain that denoted him as the Grand Master of the Ordo Volpes. The only items that suggested his military leanings were his schiavona, a highly decorative and ceremonial piece made of aestian steel, and its accompanying parrying dagger. Unbeknownst to anyone, he also had a smaller dagger tucked into his boot and a stiletto concealed in his sleeve. One could never be too careful. He contrasted greatly with his cousin, Marc Antonio, who was wearing an incredibly garish gold cuirass and equally garish scarlet doublet underneath

‘But yes to my purpose. As you may or may not be aware, I have been commissioned to write some military studies for the University, which will take up much of my time. I also have planned some grand renovations to Little Poryatown. In short I have no time to be marching up and down the Empire at the present on military campaigns. I have therefore decided to try my hand at bureaucracy, at least for a time until I am ready to return to active military duties’ William smiled and looked at the Magistrate

‘No doubt I have shocked you with such a decision?’

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas nodded along at the appropriate intervals, as they moved through the cobbled streets. Many of the peasantry gave the two noblemen a wide berth, a natural show of respect for their station, while others offered a warm chorus of "M'lords". In a similar manner to William, the Earl also bore a weapon; a finely-crafted arming sword - although its sheath was adorned with silver, it seemed not to simply be ceremonial.

‘But yes to my purpose. As you may or may not be aware, I have been commissioned to write some military studies for the University, which will take up much of my time. I also have planned some grand renovations to Little Poryatown. In short I have no time to be marching up and down the Empire at the present on military campaigns. I have therefore decided to try my hand at bureaucracy, at least for a time until I am ready to return to active military duties’ William smiled and looked at the Magistrate

‘No doubt I have shocked you with such a decision?’ - William

As the former Imperial Marshal drew to his point, Nicholas found himself peering at the man. While William had ever been a man predisposed to violence, he had also often and fervently expressed interests in matters of academia. It was not too surprising then, he surmised, that he had reached such a decision.

"There is no glory to be found as a bureaucrat," he began, "But you never struck me as a man who seeks glory as a priority. I'll have to disappoint you though, William; I'm not greatly shocked. Slightly, perhaps, but not much more. It is my understanding that you serve as and where you feel most useful. I may often disagree with your conclusions about what constitutes useful, but I wouldn't deny that... and - as it stands - the realm does need more courtiers."

Nicholas released a breathy exhale. He paused a moment, their conversation diverted by a plump, finely-attired merchant toddling in their direction. After the exchange of pleasantries and the promise of visiting the man's stall, the Earl continued.

"I do not blame them, of course, but many act as though they believe glory on the battlefield is the best and only way to serve the empire. As you no doubt agree, it is not. Our cities and regions still need to work; to produce. The Amelioration Brigade could use all the help it can get."

Autumn Evening -- Poryatu

Solomon Greybrook

Family on Distant Shores

As Solomon sat on horseback travelling to Nid Tek, many wondrous and unnerving situations had occurred since the previous month. From defending the IAP's expedition into the South Divide, to releasing the Greybrook Guard back into their traditional role and his ascension to lord of Dantooine, there was a lot of transition. Arguably, the worst part of the last few weeks was the captain of The Exalted Arbalests personality. It was no secret that Captain Semund did not get along with him initially. A man of ego vs a man of selflessness. Solomon firmly believed that the Captain of the Greybrook Guard was a man that one could not easily emulate - the Captain Semund only cemented his view.

However, this had begun to change, much like the seasons. While Solomon was impressed with the Arbalests as a whole, they still needed to improve. They slowly becoming a tighter knit unit - which was seen by the friendly banter when resting in camp. There was no doubt about the Arbalest's ability - their capability to support IAP armies was far superior to the revised Greybrook Guard. Nevertheless, something inside Solomon missed the comradely that came from fighting shoulder to shoulder. At first, the elite nature of his unit almost unnerved him. The size too was strange to Solomon. Used to large groups of men, the change of atmosphere had led Solomon to almost master the name of every man and woman's voice in his unit upon it's tone. This comradely nature of this smaller unit made each loss even harder for the companions to bear at points. Additionally, when front lines broke, the Arbalests were ranged troops after all.

Rather melancholy about the whole affair, the townsland came into view. Another fight was yet to come before the ferry to Giask. Another few days before his summon to the family townhouse in the city.

An hour away from the townsland, a messenger came to his scribe and presented to him a short letter from a family member from a distant shore - Ferdinand. A small smirk came to his face as he read the letter. The odd joke and short pieces of information that played between the lines showed that he was well but on campaign for the majority of the time.

Much like himself.

Solomon ordered one of his retinue to find a spare Arbalest and for it to be sent to Ferdinand at once. How long it may take to reach Ferdinand may be unknown. Regardless, the jibes that the two sent each-other were often looked back in fondness. He may find it amusing that Solomon had to "re-master" the Arbalest again.

Maybe one day they may unite again.

But first, the battle has was to take place once the sun had vanished beyond the horizon.

William Fitz Roberts

William listened to Nicholas carefully, nodding at his words

‘Those who seek personal glory do not, and cannot, ever truly serve the Empire. Anyone who thinks glory is their primary goals in life are not only foolish, but dangerous for they can put their fellow Lurians at risk by foolishly rushing ahead or insisting on one “glorious” charge. If I had my way, such nobles would be sent back home’ He sighed, ‘In any case, we all must serve however we are able and I am willing to learn new ways of doing so’

William paused to purchase an apple from a nearby fruit seller. The peasant tried to give it to him for free, but William insisted on paying three times its real worth. He bit into it before continuing

‘I always wonder why people think that glory can be found on the battlefield. Anywhere with that much sh*t cannot be a place of glory. Interesting how the minstrels and poets and historians always forget to mention the sh*t. I guess for some it is the only way we can get them to go to war. Ah well, nothing to be done about that, there will always be vain-glorious idiots prancing about on their ponies pretending that they still don’t have spots’

He finished his apple and tossed it into a nearby pig pen. ‘Anyway, rant over. I thought to start my work in Poryatown, before moving onto Dantooine. Would that serve?’

Nether Leroux

[1]

The moons gentle rays of silver light lit the way for Nether and his horse, the touch of cold winds caressed his cheeks as they reached the top of the slope and stopped to watch the world for a brief moment before moving down towards Askileon, his first stop on his journey to Lady Issabella Pavus. He walked alongside his horse Marcus, an unimportant breed from a now dead realm known as Oligarch a city of nobles that dared defy and survive just because they could although sometimes Nether thought the whole situation had been a fools errand, the nobles and resources could've been used elsewhere but then again dreams and ideals are far more relevant than reason.

Together upon arrival to Dwilight they settled in Westfold, a realm of warriors until the realm was destroyed and Nether moved to Westgard. From there he 'borrowed' the gold of the rogue regions, now borrowed might seem like a polite way of saying stole but Nether was and always had been taught good manners so in order to avoid upsetting others he always said he borrowed things. After such, he was hired to work in Astrum as a knight and finally in Swordfell to help in the realms restoration.

"Come Marcus, we'll arrive at Askileon shortly...I'll take an estate and move closer to the heart of the Empire of Luria Nova..." he paused in his footstep, lost in thought. Marcus pulled at the reign desiring to keep going. "Oh..sorry...this time I come to a place I know little of..I do it of my own accord..odd how when you choose your own path it becomes that much more scarier...but then again...I never was one to worry about the future...nor care for the past...just the now."

But as all stories go, the journey never ends and Nether's story was simply turning to the next chapter.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"How splendid!" - Myr thought - "The entire circus is here. Firedancers, jugglers, gymnasts... bearded women?!" - he rode on - "Great Samum! They even brought a giant... wait a second, why is he allowed to casually chat up the Imperial Magistrate? And why is he dressed so... ahh, could it be?!"

Myr rode on, slowly taking off his gauntlet.

11th July

Autumn Day -- Poryatu

Emyhr le Craint

Arrival at Harvest Festitval

Emyhr's journey back to Nid Tek had been a tough journey, Emyhr had not yet fully recovered from his injury so instead of his usual attendant, he had brought one of his personal healers to assist him in his recovery. Luckily, he was a few hours ride from his home in Poryatu so did not have to worry too much about where he was to stay.

Arriving at the festival grounds, what first hit Emyhr was the smell. The air was filled with the aroma of the different food stalls and festival shops. Walking through the 'Entrance' Emyhr could feel the stares of the people around him, a mix of admiration and fear as many had heard about his escapades both as a noble and a hero.

As they passed by the different stalls, in the distance he could see the former Imperial Marshal and the current Imperial magistrate having a in depth conversation. Knowing that Emyhr would get a chance later in the festival to meet and thank Earl Nicholas, he offered the both of them a polite nod and wave daring not to interrupt them both.

After walking for a while, Emyhr stumbles slightly but the attending healer caught him before he could fall. Finding a place to sit with a bit of privacy, he checked over his injury on his leg. The wound had opened once again, wiping away any blood the attendant replaced the bandage that was wrapped around his leg. Looking over the wound, the image of the monster slash that nearly took off his leg filled his mind again.

Emyhr called over to a local bar maid to bring over a strong drink, handing her a couple silver pieces. She returned shortly bringing a bottle of some finer local ale and a mug. Emyhr poured it into the mug, taking a long sip to wash away the pain from his leg. After a while, Emyhr returned to comfort but continued to rest enjoying the autumn sun watching the passersby at the festival.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Imperial Magistrate!" - Myr shouted now only several feet away from Nicholas and William, he was now certain that the giant was former Imperial Marshal. So the rumours were true - he thought. Myr seldomly met people taller than himself but never by such a margin.

"Long time no see my friend. I absolutely love the festival, it is precisely what we need to lift the spirits. There has been a lot of strife and uncertainty lately." - Myr outstreched his naked hand in greeting to Nicholas, not acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Nicholas Archival

Nicholas, William & Myr

‘I always wonder why people think that glory can be found on the battlefield. Anywhere with that much sh*t cannot be a place of glory. Interesting how the minstrels and poets and historians always forget to mention the sh*t. I guess for some it is the only way we can get them to go to war. Ah well, nothing to be done about that, there will always be vain-glorious idiots prancing about on their ponies pretending that they still don’t have spots’ - William

"Without bardic tales of heroism we'd scarcely have a single man up and willing to fight," Nicholas responded to William voicing his agreement. "For that reason I do not begrudge them. I felt much the same way, until my rush to prove myself left too many good men injured - or worse."

‘Anyway, rant over. I thought to start my work in Poryatown, before moving onto Dantooine. Would that serve?’ - William

With a thoughtful hum, the Earl gave momentary thought to William's words, before nodding once in assent. "Poryatown is a good place for you to start, and Dantooine is certainly in need--" he began, before a new voice caught his sentence at the midway point.

"Imperial Magistrate!"

"Long time no see my friend. I absolutely love the festival, it is precisely what we need to lift the spirits. There has been a lot of strife and uncertainty lately." - Myr

After a flash of confusion at the abrupt entrance of the man, recognition bloomed within him and Nicholas reached out to firmly grasp Myr's outstretched hand. Although he realised the discomfort of the exact two worst people to be sharing a conversation with simultaneously, it was still warming to see the younger man.

"Sir Myr, I had been hoping to see you here!" he beamed, pleased. "Let's not stand on too much ceremony; Nicholas will do. I am glad it is to your enjoyment - the people of Nid Tek do not throw themselves into anything halfheartedly, I've found. And with all the strife, as you say, events like these are a bold proclamation that we will not be cowed by it."

With the new arrival to form this strangest of trios, Nicholas paused his stride to properly regard both. The raucous noise of the festival was dimmed slightly now, although many attendees and merchants alike continued to pass them by - many already stumbling jovially from the many beverages on offer.

Myr Arnickles Renodin

"Sir Myr, I had been hoping to see you here! Let's not stand on too much ceremony; Nicholas will do. I am glad it is to your enjoyment - the people of Nid Tek do not throw themselves into anything halfheartedly, I've found. And with all the strife, as you say, events like these are a bold proclamation that we will not be cowed by it."

Myr slid his gauntlet back on as soon as Imperial Marshal released his hand.

"Good Nicholas, of course we will not be cowed! Lions do not get cowed" - he said clapping his shoulderguard and finished with a wink - "we leave it to lesser animals."

Myr clenched the reins of his steed but another sentence froze in air unsaid as he struggled to find proper words. The sound of the celebration grew heavier as it made the silence of the gathered trio more and more obvious. It lasted for merely minutes but felt like hours to Myr, until he finally bursted - "Good Nicholas. I would like nothing more than to stay in this ambivalent company and continue our discussion but I must find Sir Emyhr, he was gravely wounded last time I saw him and I heard he also intended to attend the festival. Have you seen him by any chance?"

Myr bowed to Nicholas and pulling on the reins of his steed he walked away ushering his horse - "come Dauntless, we will show Emyhr the trick with a bucket and a horseshoe, he will love it" - but before he could disappear from view he turned around and looked William in the eye throwing - "Sir William, I hope to meet you in a more appropriate situation, there is one matter I would wish to discuss."

12th July

Autumn Day -- Dantooine

Nicholas Archival

"Good Nicholas. I would like nothing more than to stay in this ambivalent company and continue our discussion but I must find Sir Emyhr, he was gravely wounded last time I saw him and I heard he also intended to attend the festival. Have you seen him by any chance?" - Myr

Nicholas considered for a moment, before shaking his head. "One of my stewards informed me that Sir Emhyr has arrived for the festival, but I've not come across him myself yet. No doubt he's hereabouts somewhere; if I see him before you, I'll let him know of your search."

After Myr gave his farewells and departed, the Earl turned momentarily to William. "I assume this goes without saying, but I'll be hoping there's no hostility between the two of you here," he said, gesturing to the departing knight, in reference to his parting words. "Though I suppose it may add to the theatrics of the day."

With that, Nicholas gave a brief, amused smile, before straightening up. "But for now; Earth's Hall could certainly use another courtier, and should you choose that path, I would lend you any advice I can. Until then, though, I'd best return to the manor - no doubt there's some more paperwork I need to grant my seal."