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| − | '''Roleplay from Sorsha McDowell'''
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| − | The battles in Paisly had been interesting to say the least. If it hadn’t been for the fact her and Mathias had both been wounded, she would have gotten more satisfaction out of it.
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| − | She had wanted to stay, but orders were orders. Sorsha ordered out The Golden Arrows and they were now on the first ship back to Port Raviel. This trip unfortunately she was not looking forward to. Not only did her leg still hurt like the hoolies, but the moment she stepped on deck, the swaying didn’t agree with her stomach. Her pride had taken a dent lately, for no matter where she was someone always seemed to catch her losing her breakfast. The healers had given her something to help settle her stomach, telling her she needed to take it every morning, but even that never stayed long.
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| − | So it was some time shortly after they left, Sorsha was leaning over the side, her long braid in one hand, her other gripping the side, getting sick. She caught her breath and closed her eyes but then she was leaning over the edge one more time. “Dear spirits…” she moaned with irritation and queasiness, "help me..."
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| − | '''Roleplay from Eleanor Orgauth'''
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| − | Eleanor was on a ship back to Port Raviel, and though it was only her 3rd voyage by sea she felt at ease with it, the rhythm of the waves suited her perfectly and she sometimes felt better with it, alone left to her own thoughts, her eyes following the movement of the waters below atenciously.
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| − | So many times had suicide been a tempting option, her fascination with water made it lure her, she could feel a call to join it in its depths each time her father beat her, each time she bled and cried with no one around to protect her, in that old accursed manor, forced to wear dresses that looked more like dirty rags, forced to endure the constant rage of a cold and uncaring parent.
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| − | Until she noticed outside her mind, on the boat, another woman, wearing tight leathers all over her body, with a long braid reaching her waist, much like Eleanor's but dark instead of golden, her skin tanned by the sun also in contrast with Eleanor's pale marble skin, she was older, not by much but it was the difference between them was evident enough as the other had little of her childish looks.
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| − | An impressive person, but Eleanor thought she heard her ask for help...was it a dream? It all seemed like a dream, but no she had really heard it, Marchioness Sorsha wife of her liege was there, easily recognized by the leathers and looks, and so Eleanor walked towards her carefully but fast, and spoke in a low and mildly fearful voice
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| − | "Are you alright my lady? Can I offer you my help?”
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| − | '''Roleplay from Sorsha McDowell'''
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| − | Sorsha closed her eyes as she heard a woman’s voice. <i>Wonderful, someone else to watch me lose my morning meal, </i> she thought to herself before she raised her head, and yet again her pride only kept sinking.
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| − | With every ounce of willpower she had, she stood tall and tried to appear unaffected but she was having a hard time of it.
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| − | Sorsha frowned then as she examined her, light blue, violet flecked eyes gave her a once over.
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| − | Long golden blond hair in a long braid, unnaturally pale skin, one that was in desperate need of sunshine. By the looks of it and the tone of her voice she wore a timid countenance like a second skin but by the set of her mouth and shoulders, she was trying to hide it and Sorsha gave a wisp of a smile at the effort.
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| − | Then Sorsha locked eyes with her blues.
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| − | She had never met this woman before, it was simply rare to see women in general in D’Hara, let alone one who approached her.
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| − | “Thank you…” her delicate brows drew down in a frown, unsure of the other noble’s name. “I do not think anyone can assist me at the moment, but to magically transport me to Port Raviel so this horrible swaying can stop. It should clear up soon enough, I only had a light breakfast today,” she tried to make light of the situation and laughed weakly. She looked over to the side of the ship, knowing any moment soon it would happen again. Trying to force herself, she concentrated on the other woman instead.
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| − | “Forgive me if I sound rude, but I have never met you before. Have you been in D’Hara long?” She appeared young, one newly knighted.
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| − | '''Roleplay from Eleanor Orgauth'''
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| − | Eleanor smiled at the other woman's remarks about the movement of the ship, but it was faint and incomplete smile not unlike the one Sorsha let out herself, she also struggled to keep looking at Sorsha's eyes while she talked, almost giving up to look elsewhere but she resisted stubbornly, and when she was asked about her name she hesitated briefly before saying in a weak voice.
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| − | "I..I am Eleanor Orgauth, I was born here in your region Nebel but..." and then she lost herself in her mind for a few seconds before continuing and pretending nothing happened
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| − | "...but I never had the chance to meet anyone important, my family was somewhat isolated, I was only knighted a few months ago, but I serve your husband in Port Nebel now, he was very kind to accept me as his knight, and I am eager to prove my worth to D'Hara" the last words had a different tone to them, a tone of defiance and slight frustration
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| − | '''Roleplay from Sorsha McDowell'''
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| − | Sorsha was both pleased and saddened by the other woman’s words. First she recognized the name from having offered her an oath upon hearing of her knighthood, and second because only a person who had internal issues herself would understand Eleanor’s hesitant words, there was something hidden there.
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| − | Sorsha was rather blunt, but she had presence of mind for tact when it was necessary.
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| − | “I remember your name, it is as beautiful as I now see you are,” she complimented. “I will have to share words with Mathias for having snatched your services before I could,” she jested with a smile. Attempting to make the other woman comfortable in her presence, Sorsha knew how intimidating she could sometimes be, more to have the other woman stare into her disconcerting eyes for so long deserved some due credit.
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| − | “Nebel is a beautiful region, no matter where my life takes me, it calls out to my soul as does the very nature around it, no one should ever be isolated from its beauty.” Sorsha said meaningfully, noticing the far away look in the other woman’s eyes. Yes definitely something there.
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| − | It was helping, the queasiness was fading and Sorsha began to walk away from the railing, expecting the other woman to follow. “As for you proving your worth, I see spirit and courage in you,” she said bluntly, not completely misreading the other woman’s attribute but seeing the good in them. “Good qualities to have,” she told her. “Proving your worth is an admirable goal, as you are from D’Hara I shouldn’t need to remind you the importance and weight on one’s oath. Prove your loyalty, not only to your liege, but to the King and you shall go far.”
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| − | As she walked, several of the Black Lions saluted her and she nodded in their direction. “I was once as you are now, full of hope and high expectations mix that with an unwavering need to prove myself and you have a very determined person to contend with,” she smiled fondly remembering her first days in D’Hara. “The world is at your fingertips, you simply need to reach out and grasp it.”
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| − | Giving her a sidelong glance Sorsha could see the other woman was holding her head high, but having difficulty keeping her gaze steady as she came across the men on the ship. No woman should ever have to lower her eyes in the presence of a man, especially one such as herself. Sorsha had also been there before. She filed that information to the back of her mind with a tight line of her lips. “Tell me, what does Eleanor enjoy doing when she is not busy brandishing her gladius?” she noted the blade at her waist, not extremely obvious, but she walked as if the blade itself was a bit of a burden, an added attachment rather than an extension of herself. Not one used to wielding it.
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| − | '''Roleplay from Eleanor Orgauth'''
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| − | Eleanor felt more at ease as Sorsha attempted to calm her with her words and for a moment her stance was lighter and more natural, all the tension of trying to show something she did not feel being relieved from her shoulders, and she let out a short sincere smile of gratitude.
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| − | It vanished again however as the Marchioness mentioned Nebel, the cold sensation of despair returning to her for a few seconds, and she was back once more to the all too familiar ancient estate with it's web covered roof and dark oppressive walls, but she fought against it and quickly returned from the abyss of the past, not before Sorsha's fierce and attentive eyes noticed it though.
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| − | The woman started moving and Eleanor understood that she should follow her, her doubts were still evident in her looks but was definitely more confident with Sorsha's words. The men around them made her uneasy, it was so much harder to remain firm around them, her muscles tensing and each of them was hard and unnatural, until Sorsha's question forced her out of the situation and made her think about an answer, a hesitant answer once more but she sounded relieved and thankful for having a reason to look back at the powerful woman instead of the soldiers.
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| − | "I don't know, I think...I am liking listening to music, reading, riding, decorating places...and...talking" answered Eleanor apparently having difficulty in choosing what to say, her tone also suggested she was barely familiar with these activities but she seemed to be trying to be sincere and then adding in more calm voice
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| − | "There isn't much I have done yet"
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| − | '''Roleplay from Mathias Ridder'''
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| − | Mathias had been passed out in his bed since the first charge at the walls. "Well," he thought to himself, "At least I know I did right when I built those walls so close to the shore. It is just too bad those Madinan commoners are too uppity to defend it properly." Suddenly a sharp pain was felt at his side which would cause Mathias to remember why he had been in this bed for so long a time. Looking around he noticed that he was lying in a puddle of his own dried up blood.
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| − | In the corner of the room Mathias noticed his servant Duad standing there waiting for orders. Motioning for him to come closer, "Duad, make sure none is allowed to disturb me while I recover....only allow my wife to see me...." A tear went down Mathias eyes as he began to think about the fate of his wife. He had not seen her since before the battle. Was she okay? Was she hurt? Was....she dead? Slowly Mathias fell asleep as he thought these thoughts.
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| − | '''Roleplay from Sorsha McDowell'''
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| − | Sorsha noticed Eleanor’s choice of words of “liking” with interest, seeming as if the other woman wanted to do these things but had yet to do them. Sorsha smiled politely but didn’t show any outward reaction that she had noticed.
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| − | “All very interesting past times,” she said and stopped to look at her. “For one, I share your interest in literature and riding. Music… well all the musical talent went to my brother Alec, as for any kind of singing my late cousin Kaylan had an exceptional voice. As for myself, I couldn’t hum a melody if my life depended on it…” Sorsha voiced out loud and smirked. “Then again, I could probably clear a room faster than anyone this way,” she grinned with amusement. “What do you say, should we make it our next tactic when we return to Paisly? I could have the Madinans running back home in a heart beat.” Eleanor seemed taken up with mirth at her words and Sorsha grinned but then frowned as she noticed Duad a distance off.
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| − | Earlier that day, he had come to her telling her Mathias wanted to see her, but as she arrived he had already been sleeping again. She didn’t have the heart to disturb him and she refused to leave him behind. Duad had insisted Mathias did not want anyone to disturb him, but she had given him a murderous look that made him swallow. “If Mathias becomes upset with anyone, then I will take the blame for it for they are by my orders, I will make sure he is aware of your persistence in this matter.” She’d then ordered the men to carry him on board ship and into a cabin, where once more he would be secluded and allowed no disturbances while he rested.
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| − | Before she had been hit with her nausea she had actually wanted to go down to the cabin to stay with Mathias until he woke but she had been delayed. Turning to Eleanor, Sorsha touched the other woman’s hand in a friendly gesture.
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| − | “I’m sorry to be so abrupt Lady Eleanor. It was nice speaking with you but my attention is needed somewhere else. I will seek you out and we will finish this conversation.” Sorsha began to walk away towards Duad, but stopped to turn to Eleanor. “The spirits did answer my prayers after all…” she gave her a warm smile, “they sent me you.” She motioned to her body, as if to show her how well she felt now.
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| − | Leaving Eleanor, Sorsha walked past Duad who followed behind. “Has he woken yet?” she asked and he shook his head. She sighed and made her way below deck to her husband’s cabin. When she entered, she sat in the chair next to the bed and took her beloved’s hand between hers. Duad had the presence of mind to give them some privacy and left. Sorsha brought Mathias’ hand to her mouth and kissed it. “Mo cuishle,” she whispered softly. “I’m here now,” she reached in and brushed some of the hair that had fallen over his closed eyes and waited…
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| − | '''Roleplay from Thers Lewinn'''
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| − | The small ship rocked gently against the crisp morning sea breeze as it made way towards Port Raviel. The tightly-rigged vessel bore Thers and his Black Arrows back to the embrace of D’Hara, land of the Dragon King. Once arrived, the young knight and his sergeant would rush to find the best archers hirable for coin. It was an unspoken fact: fighting units everywhere competed for quality; in a small island-nation like D’Hara, simply finding sufficient bodies might prove challenging. Until the ship arrived in port, Thers could do nothing but wait. We spend a great deal of time waiting. Before anything happens, there must be a great deal of nothing, he thought.
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| − | Earlier, Thers had greeted the sun as it rose above the horizon, signaling the ship eastward, onward to Port Raviel and D’Haran soil. The sight felt symbolic, although Thers Lewinn (an admitted romantic) would concede that the sun rose and fell every day, without regard to the imagination of poetic young nobles.
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| − | The captain of the smallish vessel appreciated the easy coin that came with transporting nobility and soldiers, and made an effort to comfortably situate Thers. A padded chair had been brought to the ship’s rear deck, so that the young knight might grace the captain with his presence whilst the captain berated the crew. Although the ship was among the smallest commissioned by D’Hara to carry their soldiers across the water, it had well managed the harsh chop that night often brought. On several occasions, Thers thought he had spotted the cast-off dinners of those sailing just ahead of him.
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| − | It was from his perch, near the chatty captain, that Thers would stare into the sea and smoke his pipe. The object was a gift from his father, who had commissioned the pipe from a craftsman as a gift for his eldest child. Although Thers smoked it irregularly, he found the tobacco, and the very act of using the pipe, soothing to his nerves – a great relief in very recent times. He also thought it made him look older, although the well-meaning banter of the captain had reminded him otherwise on several occasions.
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| − | Another of the Black Arrows had sufficiently recovered to be useful. The dreaded infection had only one potential victim left in play. A quick arrival to port was the soldier’s best chance for survival, but such was largely out of the hands of man. The Black Arrows had lost nearly a third of their number in the battle at Paisly. Soon they would add back that many new faces, and more. Presumably a quick return to the mainland and Paisly would follow. The captain informed Thers that D’Hara would be visible in a few hours. <i>There were so many expectations, so many complications of knighthood! </i>
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| − | Thers continued staring eastward, and waited.
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| − | '''Roleplay from Kisharianda Onyxien'''
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| − | It had been years since she had put on her armor and she was thankful she kept them close she walked to her bed and smiled as she laid her leathers down, a feeling of excitement coursed through her body. <i>It's no wonder why Sorsha wears her leathers daily</i> she thought. She opened the black chest and withdrew her daggers, a gift from her father when she first left home so much time had passed she wasn't the young naive girl she once was, now things were different, she was much older and wiser. As many would think it is no place for a Queen let alone a mother to be in battle she seen things differently now more then ever she had a reason to fight. To bring a bright future for her children a place where there would be no more starvation, a place where people would hold their heads high and proud to be D'harans.
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| − | She placed her daggers near her belt and picked up a small jar and a cloth, dipping the cloth in the thick black liquid she began to rub it deep within the leather, she rubbed in circular motions deep in thought. She had never understood why her father spent a great deal of time on his leathers and armors when she was a child but now she understood all too well, while being in combat the last thing you needed was a stiff armor and although the body heat warmed the leathers it made it easier to maneuver when it was treated perfectly.
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| − | She put her feet into the pants and pulled them up to her waist, it still fit nice and snug, she slipped her hands through the arms and pulled it up over her shoulders. The upper chest piece was longer on the right side and she wrapped it around her chest tying it closed around her waist. She pulled her armor chest plate over and grabbed her belt and tied it around her hips. The plate armor had been a gift from Master Ugyel he had it fashioned just for her, she had always been heavy chested and so Ugyel thought it would be funny to accentuate the chest so that it would fit more comfortably and she was grateful since it was indeed very comfortable. She looked over at her boots and she reached over, she began to string them up they were very long and came a few inches passed her knees, standing up she grabbed her daggers and she tied them to each leg and she turned to look at herself in the mirror, taking a hand full of her hair she started to braid it tightly, finishing she reached for a golden hair piece on the table, separating the concealed deadly silver pick she pinned it at the top and down her braid hiding it. Anyone who would look at her would see nothing more then a gold band, but the truth only known to her was a small weapon to use as last resort, her sister Fiona insisted on them wearing it and they had come in quite handy at times, easy for lock picking if captured or a quick stab at the temple if you didn't have your sword handy.
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| − | Finally dressed and ready she grabbed her sword giving it a good grip she wrapped the second belt around her waist and hung her sword to her left side. A couple months after the twins had been born she had returned with her father to the training grounds and gotten herself back in shape, her father had always been a warrior therefor he was up at the crack of dawn with his sword in hand helping the new young warriors to practice. Having her father there every morning only brought back the memories of the long days of training he had given all three of his girls, since he had no boys he made sure they all knew how to fight and handle themselves in battle and she was proud to have trained by his side. Only difference today she wasn't leaving for the training grounds, she wasn't wearing training gear, nor would she be practicing, today she would be leaving for battle and today she would not be forgiving, deep down inside she felt the rush and she thirsted for battle, it had been a long time since she felt this way and being a priestess she had been soft but today she would have to put a new face on, one with no emotions and for those who knew her as the soft Priestess would see a different side of her.
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| − | She stepped outside to meet her men and make sure they would be ready to go once the Marshals ordered them out. "Captain Ehrwig, How many men" she looked trying to make a fast count. "69 men Sir!" he answered. "Are they ready?" "Yes Sir!" his head held high, he was a very large muscular man with a dark reddish scar from his forehead down to the right side of his cheek one would almost find him intimidating to look at he wore a heavy chain mail but his arms were bare revealing many more scars from battle she didn't question his armor he had made it this far, thus she figured he knew what he was doing. "Good, keep them steady we'll be moving out as soon as the orders are issued".
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| − | '''Roleplay from Eleanor Orgauth'''
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| − | Eleanor definitely liked listening to Sorsha, she made her feel better, more confident somehow. She was an example of many traits she desired for herself, traits that she only pretended to have in public. She was already gaining a reputation for being a proud and confident woman among the nobility of Port Nebel, a fanatic defender of the realm to the point of being mildly hostile to foreigners, but she knew it was only an illusion. Only one matter made her hesitate around the other woman, for some reason she felt she understood her and that her best attempts of hiding what she felt were absolutely useless around Sorsha, she was naturally inclined to trust her and be more natural around her.
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| − | When their talk was interrupted she lost herself for a moment before returning to the edge of the ship to watch the waters once more, now however she was feeling better, not nearly as melancholic as before, Sorsha felt physically better with the distraction, Eleanor was feeling better emotionally. And so she spent the rest of the journey with an optimistic look, immersed on her mind, but now thinking about the future and not about the past, and from time to time she whispered a song or two about the sea.
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| − | '''Roleplay from Hexic Jeckyl'''
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| − | It was an hour before sunrise. As usual, Duke Hexic was finding it hard to sleep on the boat, due to the rocking of the waves. After living in D'Hara for so long one would think he would be used to it by now. The waves weren't too bad, so Hexic sat at his desk, looking over the letters from the Military Council, and checking the status of the D'Haran Guard. Hexic read, and re-read all relative documents he had received and sent in regards to the situation in Paisly, committing certain excerpts to memory.
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| − | <i>... all the D'Haran armies are refitting, there is to be nothing left in Paisly...
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| − | ... I want to move our troops out at sunset tomorrow (not this turn change, but the next one) to return to Paisly...
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| − | ... I still have 38 hours until I arrive in Port Raviel, and five others who have not yet arrived back in Port Raviel. Traveling with 20 wounded men and 2 siege engines tends to do that. If we are going to return to Paisly within the next 24 hours, then we could have stayed.... <b>should</b> have stayed... </i>
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| − | These had been the sentences that stood out the most. There had been others from days before, while he was still in Paisly, but he didn't need to review them. They equally showed how frustrating it was to take orders from General Nils.<i> "Move here.... No, cancel all movement." "You may loot.... No, nevermind." </i>These were some of the most frustrating. If orders like this continued, he would not stand for it. The General was second guessing himself, and seemingly had NO battle plan what-so-ever for the campaign. It was as if he woke up every morning saying "What shall I order the armies to do today? Maybe I'll have them do something completely stupid."
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| − | All of a sudden the desk and Hexic along with it were flung forward, landing with a great crash. "BY TALERIUMS'S TESTICLES!" Bellowed the Marshal, and a muffled "Sorry Sir." came from above deck. Gathering himself, he went above deck to knock some sense into his helmsmen, and to find a more capable one.
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| − | "By Seeklander's blood...." Hexic muttered as he entered his cabin, and righted his desk. He re-organized his papers and attempted to get some rest. Hopefully the new helmsmen would know how to navigate the waves. If not, the previous one would not be making the same mistake again
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