Difference between revisions of "Rea Family/Darren/Hail to the King"
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(Personal message) - 3 days, 33 minutes ago | (Personal message) - 3 days, 33 minutes ago | ||
High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos has thrown you out into the streets, and proclaimed you banned from her realm. If you should return and be caught again, your life is forfeit. | High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos has thrown you out into the streets, and proclaimed you banned from her realm. If you should return and be caught again, your life is forfeit. | ||
+ | }} | ||
+ | |||
+ | {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Type=Roleplay | ||
+ | |Sender=Darren Rea | ||
+ | |Content= | ||
+ | After they unceremoniously tossed him back in his cell, they sent a healer to tend to him, wrapping his wounds in clean gauze. The woman was kind, giving him a shot of whisky before attending his broken and lacerated body. She’d professionally tended him, even setting his hand. A small sigh accompanied her review of his head, the massive ‘T’ burned into the crown receiving a slather of opium oil. It wasn’t long after she left his cell that they released him. The same four massive men from earlier in the day drug him from the depths of the keep, and frog marched him to the quay. Peasants gawked, some in open astonishment at a shackled noble being drug through the streets, others glaring at the traitor in their midst. A few stood, quietly watching the broken remains of their former master hauled away. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They took a ferry to Fissoa City, where a set of five horses greeted them. Every step the horse took sent waves of pain through Darren’s chest, every jostle of his hand nearly sending his vision black. They rode out to the edge of the fields, reining the horses nearby a small wood. The guards had no problem getting Darren off his horse; he nearly fell. One of the guards, a man who looked like someone had smashed his face with a brick as a child, pulled out a bit of paper from his saddlebag, stone faced. | ||
+ | |||
+ | “High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos has proclaimed you banned from the realm. If you should return and be caught again, your life is forfeit.” | ||
+ | |||
+ | The man spit at Darren, and mounted his horse. One of the others, a lad with a shock of blond hair, threw a pack at the ground next to Darren. They rode away, fifth horse trailing them, empty saddles leather crackling. He was alone and injured, a thousand miles from the nearest friendly realm. A light breeze picked up some dirt, settling on top of the disgraced noble. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Darren closed his eyes, listening to the horse hooves fading in the distance. He gave in to the pain, letting it wash over him, sending him into the silent embrace of unconsciousness. | ||
}} | }} |
Latest revision as of 21:44, 23 August 2019
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Sabotage! Ulfang Mormont's guards, in Madina Gardens, have captured Darren Rea, an infiltrator working for Madina while he was sneaking around the camp of Ulfang Mormont, King, Battlemaster of Madina, Royal of Madina, Duke of Madina, Margrave of Madina, Marshal of the Royal Knights of Madina conspicuously, with a poisoned dagger under his cloak. | |
Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
“Life is not a song, sweetling.
Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones
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Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Day 2
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Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Cotys D'Anglos | |
Visit
While you rot in your cell, High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos visits you and says: The King is requesting that I do not execute you, instead just to banned you. But if left it to me to decide. I need a list of your partners in movement to harm this realm. Please stated what you have to say to the nobles about your action against the realm and our King. I am demanding the list of your partners no matter what you have to say. How do you plead? Cotys D'Anglos High Chancellor of Madina Viscountess of Panabuk | |
Cotys D'Anglos |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Letter from a prisoner
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Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Cotys D'Anglos | |
Visit
While you rot in your cell, High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos visits you and says: Its has always been known that my family does not believe in torture for most of the time the information is worthless. But the king has order for you to be torture to see who has been helping you so by order of the King you will be torture.
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Cotys D'Anglos |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Dungeon Event
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Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Tortured
While you are sitting in your cell in The Kingdom of Madina, one night the cell doors open and High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos enters together with her torturer. Dragging you off, they make your nightmares come true. As you regain consciousness the next morning, you feel your body in the worst possible way. You remember little of the night and are grateful for that. The abuse of your body has left you sore and with strained muscles. You lost 5 points of your infiltration skill and will have to regain them the slow way. | |
Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Day 3
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Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
At first, he'd tried to keep a stone demeanor, but he'd lost it soon after they'd started using the rod. It had taken less than an hour to reduce Darren to a limp, bloody mess. Sweat covered his body, hair hung limply across his face. They'd beaten him with a cudgel, breaking at least one rib. Anything more than a shallow breath sent burning pain through his breast. Every finger on his right hand had been smashed and subsequently twisted cruelly with pliers. Blood oozed from his stomach, sharp lines of crimson crisscrossing each other, weeping rivulets down the front of his trousers. Several raised burns adorned his armpits, red hot poker wielded by the torturer.
"Who are you working with?" The torturer asked him again, waving the poker threateningly in Darren's face. The last of Darren's resolve left him, pain lancing through his every thought, shattering any resistance he tried to conjure. Despair washed over him as he watched the reddened poker tip dance before him. Tick tock, tick tock, the ember went, counting down to the next time he would feel its bite. What was the use? He thought. Surely he was too late anyway. The news that he had failed would have spread like wildfire across the island. It wasn't everyday someone tried to stab their own King. He'd been such a fool, a perfect patsy. "Traitor, I'm not asking again." The torturer began to move to Darren's right, glowing rod leaving trails on his vision. "Stop." Darren's voice came out weakly. The torturer paused, waiting. Staring at the floor, Darren raspily began, "I had no partners. I had never wanted this. All I wanted was to bring Madina out of the shadows, to shine in the sunlight again." He looked wistful for a moment before continuing. "I'd been collecting gold from the rogue peasants to the east, when I came across an adventurer, waving me down from the side of the road. 'You must be the great Sir Darren,' he said to me. 'I've got a job for your… talents. It pays five thousand gold now, and five thousand when you are done.' I should have walked away then." Darren's face turned to disgust, "I hadn't even thought about how he knew such things about me, how he found me, nor where some wretch off the streets had gotten so much gold. I only thought of how that gold could help us move to and take a new, northern city. There was no way Ulfang would empty his pockets to help us, the greedy old codger." The torturer glanced to the High Chancellor, who did not move. Darren continued, "He told me to stab King Ulfang. I accepted his gold, never intending to do the job. It would ruin my chances of convincing the realm to move. I'd thought we were too isolated for any repercussions, and if anyone had tried anything to me, I could easily fight them off. I gave the gold to someone I could trust to use it wisely, and I thought no more of it." Darren paused for a moment, pain from his wounds overcoming him. Haltingly, he continued, "I - I had to take him with me. I had too!" Darren's voice cracked, raw emotion bleeding through, "I was going to lose my estate! I couldn't leave him here!" Tears began to track down his face, dungeon grime collecting on his chin. "They took him, Cotys. They took my brother! They are going to kill him!" His voice broke completely as he lost his last shred of self-control, sobbing pitifully. The High Chancellor looked to the broken man, stone faced. She left without a word. The torturer snorted, returning his poker to the furnace. Darren wept quietly, consumed by his utter, abject failure. | |
Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
After a while, he calmed, a cold emptiness replacing his fears. At least he'd come clean, before they beheaded him. Several minutes passed in silence, the torturer bustling about the room, cleaning his tools and returning them to storage. Darren closed his eyes after a minute, focusing on not breathing too hard. Two broken ribs, he figured, not that the lashes across his midsection didn't burn with an unholy hellfire. Hopefully they would get it over with soon. Maybe his brother's kidnappers would have mercy and release Dom on news of Darren's death. He waited, soft clinks marking where the torturer was cleaning. Idly, he wondered if the burns in his armpits would heal before they marched him to the block. His hand wouldn't heal anytime soon; at least the pulses of pure pain radiating from his mangled fingers would give him something to focus on while they readied the sword. The torturer fell silent. Darren opened his eyes, expecting to be carted back to his cell. The torturer stood by a small kit, sharpening a barber’s straight razor.
“What are you doing?” Darren’s voice was rough. The torturer grinned, “A special treatment, just for you. The King himself found it, after he dug in some old cabinet in his high tower of his. ‘Madina laws concerning Traitors.’ Turns out we here have some old, old laws about Traitors. I hope you ain’t real fond of your hair.” | |
Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Letter from a prisoner
Darren Rea Noble of Madina | |
Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Cotys D'Anglos | |
Visit
While you rot in your cell, High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos visits you and says: I hereby find you guilty of attacking royalty. From this day for you are banned and if you are ever seen in our realm again, I will be forced to executed. Be gone with you! Cotys D'Anglos High Chancellor of Madina Viscountess of Panabuk | |
Cotys D'Anglos |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
Banned (but freed)
(Personal message) - 3 days, 33 minutes ago High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos has thrown you out into the streets, and proclaimed you banned from her realm. If you should return and be caught again, your life is forfeit. | |
Darren Rea |
Roleplay from Darren Rea | |
After they unceremoniously tossed him back in his cell, they sent a healer to tend to him, wrapping his wounds in clean gauze. The woman was kind, giving him a shot of whisky before attending his broken and lacerated body. She’d professionally tended him, even setting his hand. A small sigh accompanied her review of his head, the massive ‘T’ burned into the crown receiving a slather of opium oil. It wasn’t long after she left his cell that they released him. The same four massive men from earlier in the day drug him from the depths of the keep, and frog marched him to the quay. Peasants gawked, some in open astonishment at a shackled noble being drug through the streets, others glaring at the traitor in their midst. A few stood, quietly watching the broken remains of their former master hauled away.
They took a ferry to Fissoa City, where a set of five horses greeted them. Every step the horse took sent waves of pain through Darren’s chest, every jostle of his hand nearly sending his vision black. They rode out to the edge of the fields, reining the horses nearby a small wood. The guards had no problem getting Darren off his horse; he nearly fell. One of the guards, a man who looked like someone had smashed his face with a brick as a child, pulled out a bit of paper from his saddlebag, stone faced. “High Chancellor Cotys D'Anglos has proclaimed you banned from the realm. If you should return and be caught again, your life is forfeit.” The man spit at Darren, and mounted his horse. One of the others, a lad with a shock of blond hair, threw a pack at the ground next to Darren. They rode away, fifth horse trailing them, empty saddles leather crackling. He was alone and injured, a thousand miles from the nearest friendly realm. A light breeze picked up some dirt, settling on top of the disgraced noble. Darren closed his eyes, listening to the horse hooves fading in the distance. He gave in to the pain, letting it wash over him, sending him into the silent embrace of unconsciousness. | |
Darren Rea |