JeVondair Family/Rania Eastersand

New Blood

After being knighted by Rynn, Rania separated from her twin sister, Mavia, for the first time to being her career in the Obsidian Isles of the East Continent where she was swiftly recruited to the Royal Obsidian Dragoons to aid in the defense of the realm against invasion.

D'Hara

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (9 days, 19 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (21 recipients) It was stormy in Nebel. Strong westerlies off the surf beat at the shutters of the comfortable dwelling of Lord Gaidin. Rain pummled shingles and even the moon seemed to fear the great storm clouds. But to a D'Haran, life was a constant weathering of the storm. And so it was that Lord Gaidin was comfortable ensconced in his favorite chair, warm by the fire when an unexpected knock at his study door roused him from contemplation.

"My Lord," one of the serving women poked her head in and curtsied at his unspoken question. "You have a visitor.."

The Lord's expression shifted from inquisitive to incredulous, considering the strength of the gale assaulting his keep, and the servant stammered an explanation. "I Understand, Excellency, but....your visitor was most insistent to see you concerning claiming the old estate at The Bleak Tower."

"And does this mystery stormcaller have a name?" he asked impatiently.

"Yes, milord. Though only the surname was provided...JeVondair."

Letter from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (8 days, 21 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (21 recipients) Your Majesty,

The clan connections and politics of the sandborn are...intricate, to say the least. When Duke Rynn was but a knight, his entire immediate family was wiped out by monsters swarming from the unsettled lands surrounding the Dessert of Silhouettes. Most of the clans only survived by hidnign or fleeing to the foothills. Only the Duke's sister, Duchess Kalixta, survived. Duke Rynn had a brother, but we do not speak of him. Unfortunately, both he and Kalixta died young. Even his wife, Duchess Khari Kye of Golden Farrow, was not long for this world. And when Duke Rynn joined them in death, his claims and holdings passed to my clan, the Eastersands, to hold until Duke Rynn's trueborn children reached majority. To maintain those claims, and ensure the safety of the JeVondair Legacy, it is my mission to find the children and take them on as squires, protecting them until they come of age. For this, i must find Le Drake.

Thank you for your summary of events that have transpired. It is a shame, although hardly surprising, to see the war with Luria continue. I wonder what reasons support it now, so many years after it began? I was but a girl when it started. Rania Eastersand JeVondair Dame of Nebel

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (4 days, 20 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (21 recipients) "Please, take a seat, Dame Rania," Gaidin said, offering her the chair next to his, while ordering Milayne to bring them some food and wine. "I am more then pleased to see a new face in our great Realm, certainly when she carries such a name as you do. You will however understand I have questions. Before I get to that though, let me offer you this." Gaidin reached down his sleeves to reveal a red rose, which he gave to Dame Rania.

Rania gracefully accepted the rose, hastily plucked from Lord Gaidin's personal, storm-wracked garden. The servants had not even had the time to cut away the flowers thorns. She smiled at such a fitting mental self-portrait and deftly maneuvered the rose tuck it neatly behind her ear as Lord Gaidin appraised her. Pleased by his gallantry, she allowed it.

Rania was a full-blooded sandborn woman. Her skin was dusky as a sunset, and her hair was such a deep brown it was almost black. Unlike most of her kin, however, she eschewed the intricate braids denoting clan and rank, preferring instead to let her tresses fall freely. Despite being over 30 years old, their was not a gram of fat on her. Her wiry frame exuded a certain solidness, though little of it was exposed in her evening robes. High cheek bones and a rounded chin framed almondine eyes, gold flecks catching the firelight as she patiently awaited the end of the inspection.

"It is the custom of my House to meet beauty with beauty, so I hope you accept this gift." Lord Gaidin said at last. "Now, onto my curiousness. May I ask you who you are, what brought you here, what you plan to achieve in your future and how you expect me te be of any assitance in this all? And perhaps as important as my previous questions, we will have to discuss what I expect from you as Dame of Nebel."

"As you wish, my lord" Rania bowed her head. "Your servant did a fair job of it. I am Rania of the Eastersands, inherent clan of the House JeVondair. I have served as a general in Beluaterra and a banker in the colonies, though neither suited me well. Unlike my kin, I have little to my name save my name itself. It was decided some time ago that I should return to D'Hara to squire His Grace's children. To that end, I have already endeavored to join the JeRavosi, though I wonder if that will do me any good..."

She trailed off as she looked about the study, her eyes alighting on the brandy, but she moved on with an inhalation. "How well did you know His Grace, my Lord? I admit, I was never able to meet him in person, having been shipped abroad well before his fall."

LURIA

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (18 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (36 recipients) But for her brief stay in a Lurian jail cell, Rania's journey to Oute Giask had been relatively uneventful, even pleasant, all things considered. A few exciting squalls had delayed here ferry from Port Nebel, and it took almost a full day at the customs house in the capital exchanging her D'Haran gold Dragons into Imperial Marks, setting up her estate, and the other necessities of taking up life in a new realm. She was amazed and grateful that her arrival had not caused a fuss, considering her surname.

Of course, the transition was hardly something that Rania was not used to. As a girl, her clan had wandered from oasis to oasis in the Desert of Silhouettes. As an adult noblewoman her life had been much the same: Moving from one realm of interest to another while her own achievements were eclipsed by her sister and cousin in Beluaterra, which grated on her more than she'd ever admit to another living soul. Nevertheless, with the death of Rynn JeVondair, she'd been given new purpose.

She was in Giask when she received Ellyn Coquard's 'invitation' and prepared to leave, tipping the courier to return Outer Giask and inform the Lady of her arrival. Gathering her belongings was a swift process, she had little enough that she could carry it over her shoulder. She took greater time with her appearance. She was tall for a woman, 5'10 with long legs and hair so brown it was almost black. If her dusky skin was not enough to denote her Desert origins to the casual onlooker, the intricate braids denoting clan and rank falling in a dark queue down her back would do the job. Rounded facial features and almondine eyes marked her as a JeVondair. She favored darker clothing: A sleeveless leather jerkin with buckles of weathered bronze over a deep blue ruffled blouse. Serviceable leather boots climbed up her calves where simple black pants were tucked, secured at her waste by a sword-belt boasting a rapier and dirk.

It was a fine enough day outside, and Rania resolved to walk rather than purchase a horse or carriage. She took great pride in her athletic form, and days on a ferry had disrupted her exercise routine. So she set out at a brisk pace, exiting Giask by the Southwest Gate. A few more hours, and she would be with kin for the first time in many years.

And she was prepared for anything...

THE DUEL

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (10 hours, 12 minutes ago) Message sent to everyone in your realm (38 recipients) Dawn.

Rania was awake, as was her habit, long before first light. The sun rose at her back as She made her way to the town square in Outer Giask and was surprised to find a crowd awaiting her. Everything from brown rags to flashes of silk and steel. They grew silent at her approach, parting like fog to allow her forward. She'd never had an audience before.

It was eerie.

Tileni was already there, waiting for her. Her armor shined. Rania was not an expert on armor, the sandborn eschewed metal in favor of leather, and could not tell if the armor was freshly purchased, but she could tell that regardless of its origin, the Ranger had cared for it well, oiling the metal to a blinding sheen. She affected a haughty smile as Rania stopped before her, the crowd closing in behind. Tileni was not a small woman, nor was she unlovely, but her skin had the weathered look and scars of a tough life lived. She was reminded that this woman used to slay monsters for a living.

Of course, Tileni had never faced any monster like Rania before, and she smiled.

Taking the smile for the challenge that it was, Tileni looked her up and down. "You're late, sandeater." A few laughs and a catcall or two rippled through the crowd. There was no love for D'Harans here. Rania expected insults, but what she did not expect was the coldness of it. It was not said so much in anger as it was specifically calculated. Something to throw Rania off balance. Rania revised her gauge of Tileni upward while the other woman went on playing to the crowd. "I knew I said I had a pig to spit, but I never imagined how closely you'd fit the image. I might have walked instead of taking a quick boat to get here. Then maybe you'd have had time for a bath!"

More chuckles, louder this time. Rania ignored them. Stripping down to her fighting leathers. She had changed into the only other outfit she owned, black and red leather armor, segmented for flexibility and named for a particularly nasty breed of scorpion back in the Desert of Silhouettes. The long, intricately braided queue of black hair was tucked into the back. If the outlandish outfit gave Tileni pause, she overcame it, readying another insult when the town official stepped forward.

"A Challenge has been issued and excepted," The old man rasped."Today, honor can only be satisfied by blood-"

"Aye, in the highest tradition of true knights of Luria," Tileni spat. Rania ignored them both. Stretching, working her shoulder sockets, bending her knees, cracking joints to loosen them up. Then stood absolutely still, watching with eyes that seemed to blink too much.

"By the power vested in me, By His Glorious Majesty Emperor Sholan, by the light of the-"

"Shut up old man, get out of the way and ring the bell." Tileni interjected. "Breakfast is waiting."

Intimidated, the old official scurried to the side, raising his hand to signal the tolling of the bell. And the moment the hammer struck brass, Rania aggressively leapt into action, momentarily surprising Tileni and forcing her back before she rallied and the fight was on!

Rania had not been idly waiting in Outer Giask. She had studied everything she could about her opponent. Reviewing Tileni's infuriating letters, seeking out information on her family, interviewing Lurian nobles. So she knew what a formidable opponent Tileni could have been. Just as she knew that Tileni's pride would be her own downfall.

Blades clashed in the dawn light as Tileni applied every trick she'd learned over years. The two women were evenly matched in size and speed, even in age. But armed with her knowledge of her opponent, Rania grew more confident of her victory with every strike and parry. Her research on Tileni had revealed one constant fact: The Ranger was a woman who believed she'd earned the right to arrogance. She was proud of her achievements, even more so of her skills in warfare. And to a swordsman, that means one thing. Any mediocre swordsman will tell you that their are a few basic forms of combat. The aggressive, the neutral, and the defensive. A more skilled bladesmith will have learned the overrun strategy, while true masters of the blade are so in tune with themselves and thier steel that they can perform tricks of the blade that would leave an opponent stunned as well as dead. Tileni was truly a master swordswoman and, apparently hoping that Rania's bark was worse than her bite, had opted to display her most advanced skills.

The crowed oohed and ahhed as Tileni went to work. Her blade a latticework of reflected sunlight. Her feints surprised even Rania.

Until Rania brought the Ranger back to basics.

Step, slash, step, stab, step, riposte. Rania countered Tileni's dexterity with vicious ferocity, forcing the other woman towards a wall. If Tileni was growing desperate, she did not show it, continuing to redirect Rania's thrusts at the last possible moment to buy herself some time.

Step, swing, block, step upper-slash, pommel strike. That last glanced of Tileni's pauldron harmlessly as the ranger spun to the side. Suddenly, Rania was perplexed to find a boot in her chest, propelling her backwards towards the center. She stumbled, keeping her sword in front of her as she tracked Tileni. Wincing. Tileni noticed and smiled a wolf's grin, somehow knowing that her kick had fractured one of Rania's lower ribs. She feinted high, drawing Rania's sword upwards, only to hook a foot under Rania's own, pulling the sandborn off balance. Rania fell. White pain stabbed through her chest as she hit the cobblestone. She rolled, just in time to hear steel strike the stone where she'd been.

"And now, desert rat, I am going to crush you like the insect you are," Tileni taunted as Rania rose to her feet, her breathing labored. "Come then, you well bred bitch. Let me show you what the dirt is like. Rania obliged.

Back to basics. Step, swing, block, step upper-slash, pommel strike. Glance off pauldron. Wait for it-

Rania performed the same aggressive attack combination, knowing how Tileni would react. Sure enough, the ranger went for a kick to the chest. Rania caught the blow underneath her arm, locking it there and lifting with her legs, throwing the other woman into the ground and, riding her momentum, Rania thrust forward with all her strength and ran the Ranger through armor and sternum. A cry went up from the crowd. Tileni's eyes widened with shock, legs kicking spasmodically as she struggled with lungs that refused to work around so much steel.

"I swore I'd teach you a lesson, Ranger" Rania whispered, breaking her silence for the first time into Tileni's dying breaths the rangers hands tearing at her armored chest. "Welcome back to the dirt."

Teleni's struggles grew weaker as Rania laid the other woman's head, curiously gently, respectfully, to the ground. Surgeons rushed forward, but it was too late.

Rania staggered to her feet, turning towards the inn. She felt no elation of victory. She felt tired, her chest hurt like hell, and most of all, she felt...dirty.

Avenging Mavia

The journey from the Far East had been a cold one, bitterly so. Ice drifted freely through the currents with great dark forms slithering silently beneath the waves, trailing the ship. Snow fell regularly, and savage wind cut to the bone.

But hatred kept Rania Eastersand JeVondair warm.

She was Mavia's twin sister, together since birth and alike in both form and temperament until the elevation in their noble ranks placed continents between them. Mavia found a home in Melhed, a vanished country in northern Beluaterra, rising swiftly to become Duchess of Fronepu and later of the Ivory Vale. Mavia had pent most of her life as a courtier, fond of the ways of wealth and the halls of power before an age of strife transformed her into a general, an Imperatrix of the Vales. There was a love, a connection between the two that only those who shared a womb might understand. They were an intrinsic part of one another. And now Mavia, the gentle one, was gone...

Rania was a different sort of creature all together. And one that had finally been given purpose.

The path she walked was one marked by war, and by death, and by impotence. Rania had traveled the world, training her body as Mavia trained her courtly skills. Like Mavia, she was a sandborn native of the Desert of Silhouettes in Dwilight. Her dusky skin, dark hair, and almondine eyes marked her as exotic. But the whipcord, toned, visible muscles and graceful gait marked her as eminently lethal. One look at her was enough to know she'd killed before...and that she hungered to so again.

As the ship docked and her boots touched Beluaterran soil at last, her lifelong meandering journey ended, and her warpath for revenge began as she found the road to Creasur. No one that played a part in Mavia's death would escape her vengeance, be they peasant or Empress, the killing would begin.

And Mayhem wold know her name.

To Walk in Darkness

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair (just sent) message to all nobles of Nothoi

The walls and towers of Reeds were less splendid they once they were as Rania Eastersand, Dame of Weigie, passed through the heavily defended city gates. Peasants and the battered guards of passing noblemen streamed in from the countryside, baring with them tales of carnage and horror. Gaunt eyes and grim expressions no doubt hid tears of desperation, but Rania was unmoved, striding through the Nothoians as if they were not even there. She was tall for a woman, 5'10 with long legs and hair so brown it was almost black. If her dusky skin was not enough to denote her exotic Desert origins to the casual onlooker, the intricate braids denoting clan and rank falling in a dark queue down her back would do the job. Rounded facial features and almondine eyes marked her as a JeVondair. She favored darker clothing: A sleeveless leather jerkin with buckles of weathered bronze over a deep blue ruffled blouse. Serviceable leather boots climbed up her calves where simple black pants were tucked, secured at her waste by a sword-belt boasting a rapier and dirk. Every step was a graceful economy of motion, denoting years of training akin to that of the finest of dancers...or the most lethal of warriors.

This was not her first time to the Capital of Nothoi. She'd been here once before as a General of Fronen many years ago. She avoided bringing that up, however, preferring to enter the city quietly. The guard at the gate gave her a professional once-over before waving her through, but Rania barely even noticed. Her thoughts were focused on what had called her halfway across the world... Mavia Eastersand was killed in a duel against Valhael today.

Mavia, Rania's twin, had been the best of the JeVondair line. A Lady of the Ivory Court, a consul of Empresses, an accomplished General, sacrificing everything for the Empire she'd help build and lead. There were no words to describe how much Rania had loved her. On the other hand, Valhael Mayhem, by all reports a self-absorbed little man, Rania had learned from the Knights of the Shattered Vales who called him a traitor, too late, and cast him out. But she could care less about who he was or what drove him, for in her mind he was already a dead man, and the the thoughts of dead men matter little. No, there were no words to describe how much Rania had loved Mavia, as their were none to describe the pain of having someone who'd shared the womb with you...suddenly gone.

By the end of the combat, Valhael severed her head and put it up high on a pike. The pike with Mavia Eastersand JeVondair's head was displayed in front of Creasur's Castle.

Her hunt, however, had ended in the Vales when she found that Mayhem had been captured by the Netherworld and imprisoned far, far beyond her reach. As she walked through the refugee-crowded streets of Reeds, Rania allowed herself to slip back into the comfortable, seething hatred that fueled her journey here. She walked, unseeing, as the rage that engulfed her when she'd first heard what that bastard had done to her sister's body flared anew. All she wanted to see was Mavia's smiling face. Smiles from her were so rare, but Rania had always had a knack for finding them. But now, even squinting her eyes shut, all she could see was that lovely smile, the mirror of her own, dissolving into the macabre desecration, the crime, that Mayhem had committed. When Rania closed her eyes, the severed head of the only person she loved in this world stared back at her, damning her. Around her, though, the tenor of the crowd changed into cheers as town criers ran through the streets. "HE'S CAPTURED!" They said, spreading the word like wildfire, "The Demon Prince Akkan is captured and brought to Reeds in chains!"

An ear was cut off from her severed head and sent to Owain Bolton with a note: Traitor, do not let your woman fight your own battles!

Suddenly needing to get away from the noise and stink and cathartic happiness of the crowd, Rania turned into an allyway heading uphill. She needed someplace dark and quiet to calm herself as she'd learned to do on the Obsidian Isles. She let her feet guide her on their own while she wrestled with the mental imagery that both drove and consumed her. She would never know how much time had passed before she stepped through an alcove and into what could only have once been private nook for a minor noble. It was cramped, as city spaces usually are, with a fountain featuring carved faces spouting water into a half-basin below, a stone bench, and a few songbird bushes, now terribly overgrown. Rania sat, collapsed more like, against the stone. It's cold surface seemed to leach the hat and the pain, leaving her numb and exhausted from her travels. Mayhem was gone, roasting in some demonic pit as he certainly deserved...but was nevertheless safely beyond her vengeance. It was as if there was something about this thrice-damned island that conspired against the JeVondair family at every turn: Duchies ripped from them, titles cast down, lives lost in petty squabbles. No doubt if she stayed, she would wind up like Mavia and Kalixta, her aunt: Dead. Dead and with nothing to show from it. This island, its fetid population of desperate, backstabbing, two-legged rodents. They didn't deserve Mavia, they deserved to be consumed. It was as if the coolness of the stone was draining her of her fire, leaving hopelessness in its wake.

Or was it?

Rania rose from the stone as a new thought struck her. Beluaterrans had proven themselves to be indifferent, shortsighted, ungrateful and unworthy of her sister's life or death. None of them cared why Rania was here, but there was one in the city now that might. One who might see them for the sum they all must be, as she now did. And this same one might be her only link, her only chance, of slaking her vengeance in Mayhem blood.

Akkan...