Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/July
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.
