Storme Family/Aila/A-break-in-the-Storme
Contents
The Gala
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
Aila took Kenneth's thanks heartily, giving him a genuine smile as she left him to soak up all the praise for his heartfelt performance. A poem then, honoring the Duke she took in from the deck with everyone else on her way to get through the crowd amassed near the performers and with them all she would clap cheerfully for the woman she had never met and secretly for Apollyon who supported her so gallantly through it. There was a pause then between performers and Aila too the chance to reach the outside of the crown in time to see the Duke alone and slipping away into a part of the ship she hadn't found while exploring earlier. Interest piqued by the lone Duke Aila moved toward where he had disappeared and pretended not to be waiting for anyone, giving her best -fancy seeing you here- look as Smiddich re-emerged. Lady Storme studied the Duke before Copying Nemean's manners she greeted him with "Your grace" replacing his bow with a very proper curtsy, the kind little ladies are forced to practice since 2 years old. Her initial appraisal had been that he was 'old' but the word was far from her mind now, no up close he was much more then that. Of all the noble men her Father had ganged around with her whole life she had never seen one built quite like this- Tall, dark, broad- he was formidable. Is this why people refer to him as a pirate? It was all a bit disarming up close but in Aila's current state that was a very good thing. "Everyones been showering you with gifts, all I have is this the Grey Exarchs Poems" she handed him a paper covered in beautiful, feminine handwriting. It was a handwritten collection of the poems she had received from Shadowdale, taunts, insults and all. In case that wasn't enough to tip him off she added "I'm Aila Storme, Dame of Aix" she did her best to help out the Duke who she imagined was wondering just who this teenager standing before him was. "I mean not to bother you, you've been surrounded all evening. I just wanted to give you that bit of entertainment to read." And then Aila did something that Aila pre-wine never would have "I came without a date in hopes you would too" A wry smile hid slight doubts currently being violently stamped down by rich alcohol. "Do you want to dance?" | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
Duke Smiddich turned away from having closed the doors to his private suites, and found Aila waiting for him. He hesitated for only a second before self-assured confidence returned. The ship gently rocked despite the hundred feet aboard her dancing and revelling, and he took her hand in greeting. “Lady Aila”, said the swarthy Duke of Perdan, “It is my pleasure! I had hoped to make your acquaintance tonight, in fact, to hear a poem from your lips!”, he grinned. “It was your spirited prose that prompted tonights celebration of the arts, after all!” Up close, and in the bright lantern light, Aila could see that Smiddich was finely dressed and everything tailored to size. The Duke was tall and broad, not so much in any particular direction to be awkward. His black shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow; she could spy dark tattoos peeking out from swarthy skin at his collar, forearms and the back of one hand. A few loose buttons at the top hinted at more pictographs underneath; no doubt waves and anchors and other spirits of the sea. They were well into the night; the pirate knight of Perdan smelled of port and cigar smoke, fingers decked in heavy silver rings, a silken sash around his slim waist. “I shall read these with interest!”, says Smiddich, taking the papers from her, “If they are as amusing as the first. Shall I return them to you when I am done? I admit, I have found the Shadowdhavians to be boorish and insular folk, I have not attracted their attention as you seem to have!” He takes her arm and leads confidently back to the dance floor where one tune is ending and another beginning. The Duke bows low to his partner, and leads her through the steps of a gentle waltz. Aila can feel his warmth prickling through his back and shoulder where he leads her, deftly giving her no choice but to step confidently here and there among the crowd. More than once, he snatches her away from a stray elbow or from being trodden on by a clumsy knight, turning her finally into a slow dip as the music concludes. He clears his throat as his face lingers near to hers, “Two in a row is customary…”, says the Duke, “Would you care for another? | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
The Sincerity with which Fontaine greeted her was a welcome surprise, he made it easy for her to look him up and down with a look of half awe and half amusement. His charming grin, the glimmering rings, the hint of tattoos all made the fine clothes seem like an afterthought. As he took her meager gift she couldn't help but match his smile as he commented. “I shall read these with interest!”, says Smiddich, taking the papers from her, “If they are as amusing as the first. Shall I return them to you when I am done? I admit, I have found the Shadowdhavians to be boorish and insular folk, I have not attracted their attention as you seem to have!” -Smiddich Fontaine "They are yours to keep, I went through the letters and copied them all myself. You're quite right about their manner." To her delight he did not linger on the subject long and instead lead her away with a confidence she herself would've loved to have. In the matter of dancing, much like her singing Aila was also painfully average and so when the Duke unexpectedly did take her up on her offer the fact that he made it easy for her to follow his lead was no small relief considering the social leap of faith she had just taken. -He can dance- she marveled, smiling through the number. It felt like victory, she hadn't stepped on him once, nor tripped, nor said anything ridiculous. Reveling in her achievement didn't last long however. He clears his throat as his face lingers near to hers, “Two in a row is customary…”, says the Duke, “Would you care for another?” The easy to vex Aila had been totally disarmed of course she wouldn't refuse another dance. "Well we wouldn't want to breach etiquette" she would reply a bit too quickly, her dry sense of humor rearing it's ugly head. Despite the slip fate went easy on her as the next song began, a court song with a dance she knew well enough to hold her own. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
The Duke of Blades caught a passing porter, and bade them clear the dining service, and set out dessert. In short order, the staff would roll aboard freshly baked pies and pastries from the cities bakeries which were employed for this evening task. The ship boasted a substantial kitchen, but nothing that could tolerate the needs of so many at such short notice. Fine crockery and tea sets were set up on tables and laden with cream, custard and compote, fresh fruit and other confections to be eaten with finest china and silverware. The band struck up the next number; one had taken up a fiddle in Smiddich' stead. The number, while traditional, was slightly faster than the last, and several couples quit the dancefloor in submission. The pirate knight raised an eyebrow, giving Alia an easy out, and then grinned and clasped her hand and waist. This was a more rollicking number, a circular skipping dance of whirls and steps. Gratefully, this song was shorter, and before long the breathless couple bowed to one another as the music ended. Dessert was shortly served as the band packed themselves away and settings were placed at the main table and on several other trestles. "Sit with me, won't you?", asked the Duke to Lady Alia, as fresh baked pies and strudels, crumbles and turnovers were delivered, "Sit with me and have something sweet!" | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
A strange soldier it would be to be too exhausted to continue after one dance, she had all the youth and energy one could expect from a teenager and danced this dance that she had before with far more comfort then the walts she had spent staring up at the man called pirate with eyes like saucers. She ended this dance with a genuine laugh this time, holding onto his arm moments after the music stopped to catch her breath. Only two dances? she looked and realized that Fontaine had somewhere along the way had everything switch over again. The sound of tables hitting the deck reminded her of Luna- the bird of course. Aila looked up at the rigging, eyes darting around till she saw the shadow of a falcon still waiting above. It's level of training was getting irritating almost but as the Earl had advised her Aila tamped down her ire for the Grey Exarch and went along with the Duke as she was expect. She sat when bid, arranging her long skirt out of the way trying not to think about all the eyes boring into her as she one of the lowest on the noble totem pole took a seat with a Duke. Easy to forget as a dainty dish of honey wafers was placed in arms reach as if meant just for her, her absolute favorite. Still she didn't touch it instead turning to the Duke- she had a thousand questions for him but found herself too nervous to ask any of them. Trying to reassure herself that it was /him/ who reached out to her first she just went for it. "In all my time serving I've not seen a get-together like this one, A deserved break to be sure. I must ask... what is the history of the Gambit for you to put so much care into her?" she asked, behind an only slightly clueless smile. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
Duke Smiddich withdraws a chair for Alia and bades her sit, before he seats himself beside her. The King himself sits at this table surveying his knights at revelry but eating nothing for himself. The servants are busy clearing the dinner dishes and putting out the desserts, served with sticky wines sourced from all around the nation; ports, tokays, muscats and other fortified sips. Hot drinks of tea and other stimulants are also distributed in that same bone china from a far away civilisation. "The tale of this vessel is an old one!", grins the Duke, withdrawing a thin cigar from a packet from the coat hung from this chair. He offers one to the lady before lighting his own, taking a few tentative puffs of fragrant dark smoke and a sup of sweet wine. "You see, before... all of this", says the Blade Bladed Duke, indicating the fine party, "My men and I plied the sea with a letter of marque. We preyed upon enemy ships, warships mostly, but some armed traders. They'd typically flee or give up as soon as we raised the flag hoping we'd go easy on them, and we did, most times. It was long and treacherous days and nights at sea. This vessel belonged to a King, if you can believe it, of a nation no longer remembered. It was his pride and now mine. For two nights we toyed with one another at range before picking off each others support; we were very nearly outmaneuvered at the last!" He gives his date a keen glance, to make sure he's still keeping her interest. "The enemy monarch was aboard, you see, and we had permission to do him harm as we were able! As you can imagine, neither the king or his men were content to let us have the ship nor her contents, and it came to blades. If you can imagine the rush of a battlefield, the thrill of a charge and the roar and cry of men nearing their last, then imagine the same at sea! The boats pitch and roll, the deck is treacherous and the fighting is fierce, for there is no retreat. The King's commander and I crossed blades there on the deck!", says the Duke, indicating upwards with his cigar. "I'll admit, he was nearly the end of me!", says the Duke, with reminiscing in his eyes, "He was fast, but I was young and full of vigor; not half the swordsman I was today, of course, but daring and with my men behind me. I took a blade to the belly, in the end, and he took mine to the throat. The King surrendered the ship to my men, and that Commander left me with quite a scar." The Duke of Perdan makes to dig into the tails of his shirt, as if to lift and reveal his abdomen, ".... maybe another time. But, before I must read it for myself, how did you ever happen to raise the ire of the Shadowdale council? I've badly wanted to bloody their nose, myself!" Smiddich remembers a time not so long ago when he plied the Shadowdale Ambassador with gifts and got only snubs in return. | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
The offer of a cigar was politely waved off, secretly she did like the smell of tobacco but never dared to try it for herself. Immediately she knew she had asked the right question as he told his story easily- One he had told before she could tell probably a hundred times; He was good at it, enthralling in fact. A talented storyteller, she decided. She listened to him leaning in slightly with both eyes glued on himself and the cigar he waved and waggled around as he spoke of naval battle. She had never seen a naval battle herself, but she was familiar with ships enough to appreciate the level of difficulty he was implying. A motion of his hand had and an implied fight with a commander on deck had Aila unwittingly sitting at attention waiting to hear what happened next. He spoke of defeating an enemy commander, winning the day on his own merit, his prize... Aila felt truly jealous, secretly wishing that her daring attack on a commander had gone half as well. Luckily, that was quickly put aside as he threatened to reveal his scar; she held her breath not sure what to expect. Thankfully he stopped before she felt her cheeks grow too hot- unthankfully it was replaced with talk of Luna...she would far rather the scar. Aila wavered, reaching for the nearest glass to by herself a few more seconds to cool herself off- remembering MacArbins advice. "The Grey Exarch wrote me out of the blue one day after a battle. She claimed to know /someone/" She paused again, wondering whether she should lie for her dignity or not...Surely not, for there was not much left to worry over after her last encounter with Shadowdale. "A delinquent named Svari" She said with fake confidence but true ire. "An embarrassment to us, to House Storme" To her, she was essentially alone after all. "Tempest said she knew her, said she liked her, praised the- her and when I told her that only a do-nothing from Shadowdale would give that the time of day well- Seems she likes to pester. Many times I've thought not to reply yet" She cut herself off from that one "Yet it is so very fun to insult her" A wry smile crept onto her face finally. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
"Yet it is so very fun to insult her" A wry smile crept onto her face finally. - Lady Aila Storm Smiddich takes a long draft of his drink, a puff of his cigar, and blows out the dark smoke sideways away from his date. The Duke ate sparingly of dessert, though everything looked delicious; he saved room for cake, carving it himself and serving generous slices to those partaking. A nod of thanks to Sir Nemean for his speech and cheer; a queer glance at the Marshall and ex-Marshall sitting next to once another, seeming to be getting along better despite the redness to Nemeans cheeks. "For all that I am, and have been the Ambassador for Perdan", says the Pirate Knight, "There is very little possible within the realms of diplomacy. I too, find myself frustrated with the boneheadedness of our enemies - and a few of our allies - and can't help but feel if either us or them were able to make a concerted effort, it would be an end to the entire fracas!", he takes his pie and custard and finishes it in hungry bites, rattling the spoon around in the fine china bowl. "It all comes down to jibes and insults in the end. Did you know, when Perdan were beset by five enemies, I begged them to finish us! We were buttoned up in the capital while their armies laid utter waste to the regions we have since reclaimed, and I bade them, for Titan's sake, just end it!". He drains the last of his plum brandy and licks his lips. "But they didn't - and now they can't!", he grins at the last, "Because we held out, and now stronger than ever. There are cracks in the rock of the Northern alliance that we shatter with our boldness!". A cheer goes up nearby from some who overheard him. He turns to Aila, then, and takes her hand in his, "Come on; let me show you the rest of the ship. The gala is nearly done and I shall not deprive this city of its knights for much longer!" | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
Wanting to seem more worldly then she was Aila avoided any mention of how she was far too young to remember those days he spoke of, having only joined the Golden lions less then two years ago. She listened close to his story however, soaking up any information she could about this Duke and what he had done for the realm she grew up in. Insulting Shadowdale was turning our to be the quickest way to her heart, as the eavesdropper cheered Aila raised her glass to them, the two of them sharing a drink in the name of the Duke. As his large hand enclosed hers and offered a tour she resisted bragging that she already had and instead went very happily along with Smidditch to see anything he wanted to show her. Their time together was running short now as the evening stretched on, and after those inspiring tales Aila was determined to make a lasting impression now on who she thoughts must've been the most interesting man on earth. In a smooth motion her hand slid from his up to his elbow so they could walk arm in arm as he lead her through the ship that had been polished to gleaming end to end before the Gala. Out of sight of the others Lady Storme not so Subtly tugged at his sleeve, peeking at the markings underneath- she was more interested in Smidditch right now then the ship he so loved yet Aila complimented the Wayfarer, because it was a fine ship but also because she could feel the love he had for it and the care he put into it as a result. He lead her through the fine rooms she hadn't had access to before, decked in a fashion most befitting the king who commissioned the Gambit. As a woman she had to appreciate the tidiness, apart from items left by guests it was tidier then she would expect a lone mans chamber to be. Aila made comments on the ship the whole way; How she must've been a terror to see on the horizon, what it must be like to have the freedom of a ship like her under his command. The Duke soon lead her into a master suite which only momentarily raised the alert system all noble women seemed to have built in, another woman passed out on his bed dashed those thoughts immediately. He seemed not to notice the other girl at all as he leader her straight past and onto a balcony that stood at the back of the Gambit, facing the City of Perdan. Outside the evening air tussled the loose blonde curls that hung over her shoulder, away from the braziers and activity the night air held a chill that made her skin prickle. Yet, like most nobles of Perdan she was a soldier and so hardly noticed such a small thing, instead focusing on Fontaine alone. "You've built such an amazing life for yourself with these hands" she said with sincere admiration, fingers brushing over fingers piled with large rings. "I'm willing to bet every one of these has a story to go with it, just as exciting as the last." | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
Smiddich gave a generous but abbreviated tour of the ship; it used to be crewed by a substantial host, and many of the interior rooms had since been merged and refitted to boast greater rooms. In fact, the gala would not have been possible in the original configuration. A great dining hall, luxurious gallery and a slew of private suites and dens were part of the Dukes great plan to turn the 'Gambit into a floating museum. Her hand in his was not unwelcome; hers was smaller but not shaking with nerves as she inspected his forearms. They were strong, bristling with dark hair and darker tattoos of the sea and the creatures that dwelled within. Sigils of omen and proficiency; crossed cannons in the crook of one elbow signified military naval service, a knot of rope around the wrist, a nautical star by which he could always find his way home. The Duke seemed not to mind the attention at all. The staff were rushing past the couple now; they were busy boxing up leftover treats and cake in waxed paper, gathering mugs and tankards, gingerly retrieving all the fine china. No-one was so deep in their cups that moving them on would prove too difficult, save for Reno who had not moved a muscle since she had been deposited on the bed. Duke Smiddich paid her little attention as he snatched up his fine jacket from the chair of his desk, and draped it over Aila's shoulders. The coat was darkly embroidered, and long on her to the knees, warmly lined with something soft. It smelled like him; smoke and metal. The Duke of black blades allowed their fingers to wend together at the railing. The river was rushing fast towards the bay and the galleon tugged on her moorings. Though soft lights shone from his suite through a hardened wall of window bricks, the city was brighter from here despite the hour, illuminating their faces. "Rain tomorrow", he said, inspecting the clouds and breaking the silence. "If you'd only known what these hands had done", said Smiddich, looking down at her, lit by moonlight, "You might not be so charitable. But what I do for Perdan is the greatest privilege. It is my honor to serve her.", he nodded. "Perhaps I'll tell you a tale or two when...." There was a cough ahem from the cabin; a steward of the ship and one of the Dukes trusted men. "The King, your Grace....", he started, diverting his eyes from the scene with practiced decorum, and Smiddich dismissed with a gesture. The guests would be leaving soon, and so must the Duke of Perdan bid everyone fair well. The steward departed with a snap of his heels.. there would be only moments of privacy left. Just like that, Aila felt his warm hand slide across her back; she gripped the railing to steady herself, at first. He was impossibly close, but not unwelcomely so. The once-pirate bent his neck to her as his other hand brushed fingers into her hair. Her hands took in the details of his strong back and shoulders as their lips met in a breathless, heady kiss. It seemed to linger for an eternity, their feet shifting slightly as the pressed against one another. Finally parting, they took each a gasping breath, and Aila watched his eyes inspecting hers for doubts. | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
For a short moment she thought the moment had gone, the troubles of fighting men were not something new to her nor any woman of Perdan after so long at war. A stewards arrival interrupted the Duke, and she tore her eyes away from him to observe this new man, actively avoiding her gaze. As he revealed that she was taking the time of a man who the king wanted personally, Aila tugged the borrowed jacket shut tight to block the breeze in a silent protest against this Steward. Expecting that they would leave at once, Aila was caught off guard by the sensation of a hand across her back, reaching thoughtlessly for the polished rail behind her. Strong hands steadied her and as their lips met fleetingly she thought; He kisses like he dances. Without time for nervousness Aila's hands acted on a whim after wrapping her arms around broad shoulders taking the chance to explore a sailors physique up close. Once they parted she could tell he was studying her face- something inside her wondered if he felt as nervous about her intentions as she was about his. For once the heat in her cheeks wasn't for embarrassment and her expression was one of daring...Yet she knew what had to be done in the end, as their time together grew so short. Saying nothing yet Aila brushed her hair to the side, reaching into her hair and deftly pulling a comb free from it. A silver Falcon similar the one on her necklace yet this one was mid-flight rather then sitting at attention pressed into his palm, the metal cold in his palm as she moved close to him again purring "If you tell anyone I let you kiss me tonight..." She left another kiss on his jaw, daringly close to the neck before continuing "I'll strike you down myself". He would only get a glance of her smile as she masked her glee with a swift retreat, intending to disappear in the crowd with her prize, a wonderful smelling jacket that clearly marked her favor with a dashing Duke. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (message to all nobles of Perdan)
"If you tell anyone I let you kiss me tonight...I'll strike you down myself" Lady Aila Storme "I daresay I'd never see it coming", said the Duke with a slow smile, as Aila turned and left, his jacket about her shoulders. He heard tell that Lady Storme was adept at placing sharp missiles in sensitive places at extreme distances; something he was not yet keen to experience. The Gala was winding down. Some of the diehards were still eating and drinking, but the rest were waiting for King Kay to leave first so that they too could head home. Smiddich made special considerations with the stewards to _disembark_ Lady Reno before it was time for him to retire. At the first lantern extinguished - a sign that it was time to clear out - the pirate knight stationed himself on the deck by the gangplank, so that he could wish each reveler a good night. Wax paper parcels of carved cake and bakery treats were offered on departure; a silversmith had minted a silver medallion to commemorate the event. On the one side, a remarkable likeness of the 'Gambit at sea, and the other the Perdan coat of arms. Though small, they gleamed fresh from the forge and high with polish. The Duke shook or took the hands of each guest as they left; genuine hugs and back slaps were given and received by his closest compatriots. Smiddich sighed with satisfaction; despite the proximity to the 'Stump (where he maintained a generous suite), he'd stay here tonight. There was something about the way the river shone in the morning sun, and glittered in through the aft window that was comforting. Besides, he'd always felt more comfortable sleeping on the water than the land. A successful Gala, then. Spirits were raised and a good time had by all. Skills were showcased and not a little drama. His thoughts went wistfully back to a certain Lady Knight, who revealed not a smirk of their tryst on departure. His fingers sought the silver falcon pinned inside his collar; he'd have to follow that intrigue, in time.... Not least of all, to get his jacket back. | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
Letters from Ubent
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message to Smiddich Fontaine)
Letter writing was something she had been taught from a young age, normally she found it effortless yet this one stuck with her. Aila had held it close since the battle, resolving now in Castle Ubent that she would sent it with the others toward the capital. There was little comfort her in the damp stones, hunched over a writing desk his coat hung over her shoulders teasing her with the occasional warm waft of his scent and fighting off the damp for her ... She stared down at this letter, the words complete but still missing something she couldn't work out. In the margins had grown a garden of flowers and falcons and stags and she knew then that she had made it achingly clear how long she had stared at this page. Perhaps in the end that was what it was missing all the time. The letter arrives in a state that implies it's harrowing journey, corners slightly bent and some of the wax from the azure seal of house Storme rubbed away by the other letters it traveled with arriving from the front. Within the handwriting was neat and pretty, easily practiced and evidently written by someone who had spent time in a proper school. Even so it would be obvious that it was written by the Lady herself, and that she had spent some time with it as the edges of her text were filled with romantic swirls of flowers, falcons and stags with wings in a way only a young lady would think to do. My Duke I write to you hoping you are well, what has it been like in Perdan? It is raining again as I leave Ubent. By now I am sure you know the details of the battles that went on. Three bouts altogether, Only eleven of my men live... I leave you three reports if you've not seen them in person; More cheerfully, we have finally been given the order to return to Perdan. I have to thank you as compared to others I daresay this coat of yours had gifted me some small form of luck in a very unlucky situation. With my own bow I shot down the Lord Maccio Aurelle with a volley, three shots, all hits and yet his men were able to retrieve him and as far as I can tell by the shouting he did he will live. Even so, short of seeing Luna herself it was a personal victory if I do say so. On top of that the damp has yet to give me any bother at all. Our time on the Gambit has given me much to think about on the long roads, not least of all of the comforts of home. A bed, a bath, a day without armor, and you of course. I admit at first I was not sure, I had some doubts, I lay at night after a long day of travel thinking about you and I have decided at last that it was strange feeling but one I do very much like. Your beard is in no danger of my blade this day. With Affection, Aila | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Letter from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message to Aila Storme )
Knight Aila, Perdan city is drenched with perennial rain, the cobbles slick and the mood dour. I find it suits me well, after the grandiosity of the gala. Don't get me wrong - it was a fine event - but the fun and frivolity is too few and too far apart to have a lasting satisfaction. I write from my office, facing the ocean windows at the Ducal palace. My study faces out to sea, you understand, with spray so high on the cliffs that it wets the panes. It is quite spectacular, and styled as you might expect, in nautical motif. I should like for you to visit, when you are home, and if it pleases you. It is a fortress, foremost, but well appointed and comfortable, with far more stone than wood. You shall understand when you are here, why I often prefer the accommodations at the Stump and aboard the Gambit, being altogether cosier, more personable and substantially warmer. Enclosed within the package; - plum brandy in a silver hip flask, my favorite sip - a pack of cigars in waxed paper, for you or to curry favor upon another - a pot of balm to ease muscle aches where the straps of armor rub or to avoid chafing from being ahorse too long - a trio of tasty preserves, being a spicy tomato chutney, fresh goats cheese marinated in oil and spices (potent!), and an orange marmalade. Spread them on frybread or a wholemeal cracker for a tasty flavor.
Do return safe with your men, and congratulations on your grouping! Continue to wear that jacket for as long as it brings you luck, and home to Perdan.
Affectionately, Smiddich | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Letter from Aila Storme | |
| (Message to Smiddich Fontain)
My Duke, Your gifts brighten the mood as well as the breaking of the sun through the rain clouds. I've made good time through Brive and will arrive in Perdan by the evening. Thank you for both the gifts and the invitation; of course it would please me to see your home. I have many hours to spend in Perdan waiting through equipment repairs and recruiting before I can leave again and I can think of nothing better to fill some of them than time spent with you. On pins and needles, | |
| Aila Storme | |
Palace meeting
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message to Perdan )
Perdan City felt more like home to Aila than Aix ever had, it was where she and every other Golden lion went to recover from whatever win or loss they had just experienced. She had a new job now in Nascot and a lot to do to prepare for it in the way of hiring smith and more men to fight for her. With her equipment left with the smith the first order for herself was a bath; a dunk in clean water was just enough to make her feel human again after that march, some food that hadn't been sitting in a linen bag for a week helped a lot with that as well. She did all this within the Garrison, a place for all the soldiers of the king within the capital. She had no servants and no staff, she lit her own fires and cooked her own food, poured her own water and scrubbed the dust from her own hair. When done she looked the same as she had when she left, clean, tidy and dressed in her clean tunic emblazoned with the golden lion of Perdan. On her neck still hung a silver falcon she hadn't removed since first putting it on. The morning had turned to afternoon in all this time and Aila packed her things onto her horse; Her new lucky jacket included yet hidden away. She couldn't have anyone thinking she was about to return it as nothing could be farther from the truth. Everyone in Perdan knew where the Duke lived; a huge defensive fortress he called a palace, towers and buildings crowded together behind a massive curtain wall all placed on a jagged cliff at the edge of the Capital. For the first time Aila finally had a reason to make the trip through the entire city and take a look up close. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message to Smiddich Fontaine)
Every so often Aila got some stark reminders of her standing in this world and the approach to the "palace" was one of those moments. 'What am I getting myself involved in?' she thought to herself on the approach, eyes on all the people milling around that she knew worked for the Duke or the king in some capacity. Most of all it made her grow ever more suspicious why such a man even gave her a second look much less a second invitation... Slowly the possibilities were narrowing down in her mind when the sharp order of a guard shook her free of quickly darkening thoughts. "What?" "State. Ye. Busi. Ness" the guard barked at her, annoyed at her inattentiveness the first time he approached her. "The Duke summoned me, I'm one of Perdans Golden Lions" He gave her an incredulous look, clearly finding it amusing to consider this girl anything akin to a Lion. "Aren't we all" he replied with a false kindness. "Aila Storme" She snapped back. He moved out of the way "Thank you for the cooperation; My lady shall I show you the way to the presence chamber?" She waved him off with annoyance as the groom took her horse. "I'll find it myself" her tone sharp, she called after the groom to take care with her belongings. The Dukes staff were quick to let her find her own way inside the keep. Doormen hid their amusement as Aila strode past them and stood in the entrance as the doors shut; pretending to have a clue. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (Aila Storme)
The Ducal palace was built atop and within the sheer cliffs at the nothern edge of Perdan city proper. It was furthest from the main gate, and there was no recourse but to travel most of the length of the main thoroughfare, passing through the very heart of the city. Most nobles and attendants to the Duke preferred to make their way there by carriage or by horse. It was also the reason the Duke himself often preferred to spend his nights aboard the Wayfarer, or at his suites at the Bloody Stump. The Ducal estates were modestly walled, and the main doors were stout and heavily guarded. These footmen wore partial plate, with wicked polearms that disuaded any intrusion. Alia was able to matter-of-factly find her own way inside once these main doors were breached. It was partially a fortress, an office and a home; this was not the seat of Perdan administration, but it might as well have been. Courtiers and other aides to the Duke flittered here and there with very important papers, yet others lined up for the chance of an audience with, if not the Duke, then his closest proxy. Staff were plentiful, smartly dressed, and attended the inside and out; the estate was beautifully gardened, the inside richly appointed to the point of near opulence. Timber and stone were the main motif, darkly stained and expertly masoned. Masterful artwork adorns the walls, small statuary or suits of armor in many corners. The carpets and runners are thick with plush; Aila passes no less than three sitting parlours, a conservatory and a long meeting room which could pass for any festhall in a pinch. Finally, up a flight of stairs towards the crash of the ocean, the Dukes own study. Built facing the bay, with one half a veneer of dark timber over dressed stone, the other half beams supporting enormous bay window walls and door. A fireplace roared on one wall by a number of comfortable recliners, opposite a wall of books and maps. Of course, it was styled in the nautical theme, hung about with flags and figureheads, with crossed cutlasses and an ancient spyglass. A cabinet held a pyramid of cannonballs; a cudgel which might have been a belaying pin or a peg leg. The Black-bladed Duke of Perdan sits at the desk, his back to the crashing window waves. A cigar wafts lazily in a brass ashtray while the Margrave signs and studied papers and accords. He seems not to notice any approach. | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Smiddich Fontaine)
Much like the night on the Gambit Aila enjoyed her time to walk the halls of this new place without anyone telling her where to go or what to look at. She liked it this way as she could see a glimpse of reality unfiltered by noble words and hospitality; Without them the walls had to speak for themselves and Aila soaked up every bit of it. When no one else was in sight she would crack oven every door that wasn't locked and take a peek inside. One after the other was filled with treasure in the form of art and furniture, animal trophies and artifacts. Seeds of doubt had been sewed in her mind yet the letter tucked in her pocket reminded her of the goal at hand readily enough to spur her forward. His previous letter mentioned his office was facing the ocean- she recalled the image he had painted with words as she used those hints to finally find what she thought must be the place. Unannounced, she wondered sheepishly if he would be upset with her failing to have an attendant tell him she had arrived. One hand on the door, she could hear the fire of a hearth burning within no doubt trying to fight off the damp that clung to the dark stones. Like every other door she gave this one a push to test it's being locked. Finding it open she pressed herself against the wall and peeked inside. Inside she saw Smiddich- busy with his work in fact so busy he did not notice her peering in at him for a long moment while she had the chance to look him over finally seeing the man when he wasn't the center of a third of the kingdom's attention. The scent of cigar made it to her on a draft and she let the door slide silently shut as a knot grew in her stomach and second thoughts budged their way into her mind again. There was a marked moment of hesitation but the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway spurred her forward. She knocked sharply against the wood of the door, pushing it open with a sureness that told nothing of the doubts in her mind; Pretending to be confident was her special talent after all. "Your Grace" Aila greeted him just a step inside the door, bowing at the waist. She stood before him in a clean military uniform; hair plaited and left to hang at her back with wisps framing her face carelessly. A different image altogether from the the girl he had met at his Gala, this was Aila at work rather then play. "Forgive the intrusion, I circumvented the staff as I thought you might like a surprise" she lied. "I'd love to say I came to see you just to get another kiss however I got this letter and you need to see it" Regardless of his reaction she approached with a letter and placed it on the desk to the right of whatever he was working on prior. "My correspondence with Shadowdale has taken a rather interesting turn. You mentioned that their ambassador snubbed any attempt to treat with you correct?" Aila leaned slightly over his desk, pointing to the last paragraph on the letter "I imagine bar the king the next best thing would be meeting the Grey Exarch herself. I'll dare not go without an escort, after all." She stood away again, giving him a quiet moment to read what she had put in front of him in full. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (Aila Storme)
Duke Smiddich looked up from his desk, and cracked a smile, clearly pleased with her arrival. He made no reach for a weapon or defense of any kind, although, on review, there were certainly plenty of choices. The room seemed replete with real and improvised tools of all kind. In contrast to the Gambit, which was showy and extravagant, the Dukes study was far more reserved, revealing itself far more sentimental and infact, superstitious. Sailors of all kinds were known to revere ocean gods who needed appeasing or placation, and a range of odd traditions had sprung up to help ensure a successful voyage. Here was a dish containing the silver links and chain of a naval officer; there were the feathers from the caps of one, two, three enemy captains. "Aila, my dear", he says, looking her up and down, "The uniform suits you very well!". He embraces her briefly, and his lips brush her cheek. He moves to a cabinet of liquor and holds one up in silent question? "Yes, the whole nation tried to woo Lady Brigdha with very generous and unique gifts, but she would have none of it; she simply didnt have the power or authority to throw off whichever nations are pulling the Shadowdale strings. Yes, I believe it is time for a short trip, and I shall be happy to accompany you, as Ambassador, and escort", says the Black Bladed Duke. "Karbala is simply too far.. but Troyes or Evora would be ideal, close to our border and less risk altogether. Not that you have anything to fear while I am with you!" He pours the drinks and serves, "It will be some time since I've been north of the river. I'm quite looking forward to it. With the Kings approval, we might even make diplomatic headway with Shadowdale, which as you know is growing in strength. Now is the perfect time. Shall we coordinate with the Exarch and get on the road very soon, do you think?" | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Smiddich Fontaine)
Aila holds a kind smile as she compliments and kisses her, and even takes the small cup without argument. She held it in one hand as he spoke of Lady Brigda who's name she had never heard before. Her small smile widened as he agreed to travel with her but disappeared quickly as he declared Karbala too far and that he would favor either Evora or Troyes for less risk... "Luna lives in Evora" she slipped in, as he began to pour her a drop of something so strong it burned her nose; she recognized it as the brandy that he had sent her while away. "I needed only to know if you would be interested; I can write Luna right away." Pleasantly she was surprised with how readily he agreed and even more so with his eagerness to go. The small amount of wisdom she had told her at once why that likely was... She had thought of it too but wouldn't dare of trying to comfort him in regards to that; he would probably laugh in her face. Aila set her small cup down on his desk and reached for his quill, tapping it off the pot a few times while digging in the satchel at her side for the small scraps of paper she always had on her to send reports. "Just so you're aware it's true that the Vice Marshal loves me not" She said casually while she leaned over a free space on his work space; deft hands casually wrote in a beautiful cursive she had learned by way of ruler bruised fingers in school. "So we will have more luck if you have me relieved from the Lions for the time being; I'm meant to be scouting Nascot" She handed him a shortly written letter to Luna, it stated "Grey Exarch, I wish to see your mountain Estate in Evora; it would do the falcon good as well as myself. I will be bringing an escort, Smiddich Fontaine" Aila pointed out to him here "She may not put two and two together, if she does not realize you are who you are it's likely we will be safer er...Less conspicuous while travelling" The letter continued "We will be leaving from Perdan City and I will keep you informed of our progress as we travel" It was signed with the word 'love' before Aila's name and title. "Short and sweet" she declared as she put the quill back in it's place and took up her glass. Aila threw back the brandy without much thought and turned away from to hide the cringe, shaking her head as the burn of alchohol dissipated. It was not that his brandy was so very unpleasant but that Aila hadn't much of a history with liquor. "You could get drunk smelling that stuff" she declared with a laugh as she set the glass back down. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (Aila Storme)
"That's why I enjoy it", admitted Smiddich; honestly, he enjoyed the fruity taste. "Listen", he said, standing, "Let me handle Ulrich - he's a friend. Rogos is loyal and eager to push our borders, but I daresay we can accomplish just as much with words as he can with swords, and with much less diplomatic backlash". The Duke surveyed the writing; he felt a pang of indignation, "I do not care to be inconspicuous", he said boldly, "We shall travel with a small entourage, and my unit. They are well trained and utterly loyal. Shadowdale deserves to know that the Perdan Ambassador is attending them, personally - it is a great honor!" He paced the length of his room, past the fireplace, "Shadowdale rebuffed our last attempts at diplomacy; took our heartfelt gifts and wishes for peace, and threw them in the garbage. They were a lapdog for the North, then, and a burgeoning power, now." The Duke stops in front of the crossed cutlasses on the wall, "Our overtures of peace were rejected our of hand because Shadowdale was beholden to the North. I do not need them to immediately form an alliance with Perdan, no, simply to assist them in becoming their own people, free from the machinations of Sirion and Eponlynn. A north divided gives Perdan an opportunity to grow..." He sighs. Clearly there's more he could say on the subject, but stops himself and breaths out, "I'm sorry. This is a passionate subject, for me as Duke, and as Ambassador. I'm thrilled that we have this opportunity now. _You_ made this possible Aila. But I have a responsibility to Perdan above everything else. If you have any reason to suspect subterfuge from your Exarch, I deserve to know.... so I can protect you from it!" | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Smiddich Fontaine)
The relief from his assurances of dealing with her military superiors did not last long after she handed him the little note. She regretted letting him see it now; as she did not intend to change it but now knew how it irked him not to have his title represented "It is a great honour, Your Grace". She made a point to look thoroughly scolded for his benefit as he moved across the room leaving her standing with her arms crossed defensively and her back to his desk with the little note held in her fingers. He began to speak to her of politics and his dream that included not just Perdan but the people of Shadowdale too. A North divided gives Perdan an opportunity to grow. As he sighs she drops her defensive stance, arms falling to her sides as she takes an unconscious step toward him. To her disappointment he breathes out again and apologizes to her. Aila feels numb; She had brought this to him under the pretense of helping him treat with Shadowdale yet she would be lying to herself if she did not acknowledge her disappointment that of all the things he was so passionate about regarding the trip with her and it's opportunities; spending the time with her did not even come up. "Don't apologize" Aila assures him at once "There's nothing to be sorry for. I don't often; Or ever really get to hear about the grand scheme. Most of what I hear is..Go here..Shoot that.Go home again. It is exciting to hear what it looks like from the top looking down. In regards to Luna..." Entering this castle had served as a bit of disillusionment for Aila, seeing how truly insignificant she was up close had that effect. His talk about the political implications of it all just solidified it... The man who had twirled her around so easily at the Gala was the as the rest of them were when the sun came up; Ambition, loyalty, power, gold coin, if she couldn't give him any of those she knew she had no place at his side. Given his mood she stayed back, clasping her hands together in front of herself as she took a moment to consider her words before she tried to assure him; Not even Aila was brave enough to want to push this Duke she hardly knew without true cause as he was one of the few men in the realm who could truly hurt her on a whim. Lady Storme recited from memory the last stanza of the poem Luna had written her knowing it was a bit of a calculated risk depending on the Dukes true opinion of her. "What if one only fought for the heart of a Dame, Surly a war fought for love would be considered just, If the gods cannot agree sincerely that is a shame, For I feel something much more than just lust. Oh Fair Lady Aila if only you just knew, How much I truly care for you. " Now it was Aila's turn to sigh; more of a huff of annoyance "She wrote that for me, if she is a liar and she does not care for me then she is a beautiful liar to die at the hand of don't you say" From across the room she gave him a knowing but uncharacteristically submissive look, hoping not to make him flinch at the sort of affection Luna had expressed to her but instead realize that she was trying to assure him of their opportunity. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smidditch Fontaine | |
| (Aila Storme)
Smiddich watched her attempt at being meek and pensive. He realised then how young, how lovely she was. The uniform was a nice militant touch; he'd need to watch her in the field to know, but a far cry from the fancy gowns of the Gala. The Duke preferred the battlefield anyway. The consummate sailor; he changed tack. "It was very bold of you to make your way in here unchecked", he began, "Brave and bold, and I am not disappointed. I _am_ sorry, Aila - you startled me, arriving unannounced, and.. perhaps it's my office setting, but you've discovered me at my officious best... or worst!" He laughed, heartily, "In honesty.. I'm excited! Thrilled, in fact. The international truces have given us access to the heartlands of our enemies. I haven't been across the river Bescan in _years!_". The Black bladed Duke takes her (trembling?) hands. "Whether you and I succeed in a diplomatic one, we shall have succeeded in a personal one. Sending our convoy through lands only recently hostile - very hostile! - is incredibly bold. The Dhavians cannot fail but to see this for what it is - an honest and bold attempt at unprecedented access.. just like your arrival here today!". He claps her hands with his, "Whether we our impromptu peace moot is rebuffed or not, you and will have accomplished something very daring. Until very recently, our enemies had an assurance that Perdan would not mobilise, but only act in defense. They would not dare to harm us, and if they do, I am sure the Lion will stir. Do not think for a moment that I shall dare to see you come to harm, as you shall do for me!" Smiddich stubs out his cigar; he hasn't taken a smoke from it this entire time. "Enough business! There is time enough in the day for a stroll around the grounds, and I shall have dinner prepared; I insist!", the Duke slaps a few journals shut, slamming them into locked drawers or a wall safe. He offers his arm, congenially. | |
| Smidditch Fontaine | |
An Unorthodox Party in the Mountains
| Roleplay from Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Luna arrived at her breathtaking Mountain Manor home in Evora with time to have her staff prepare for the coming guest. Lady Tempest’s estate was nestled between the indomitable snowy peaks of Evora on one side and tall steep cliffs overlooking a valley stream below on the other. The grounds were encompassed by tall iron fencing that was guarded diligently for the Grey Exarch was hosting a very important event. The courtyard was spectacular; a large ornate fountain is the first thing one would see passing through the main gate. The crystal clear water is a testament to the purity of the pristine landscape all around. A small reflection pool was present near the fountain surrounded by beautiful aged cherry trees. A lone statue was at the center of the pool, the founder of the estate whose name was lost to history. Everything was surrounded by all manner of wild forest flowers making the grounds a bouquet of colours. A few other buildings like the stables were present but hidden among the thick trees. The Mountain Manor itself was a massive building with tall peaked roofs and plenty of terraces; the largest of which protruded from the side of the manor directly above the valley below. The Grey Exarch was in the courtyard ordering various staff and soldiers around. The interior had already been prepped but Luna found the grounds wanting. Shouting orders at her Lieutenant, Lissa, to clean this and trim that however Lady Tempest would be out of time as she could already see the banners off in the distance. Luna’s guest and all their retainers arrived through the main gate with ease as all the Grey Exarch’s men were well informed to receive her esteemed guest; Dame of Aix, Aila Storme of Perdan and her escort Duke of Perdan, Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan. The latter was still quite the surprise for Lady Tempest despite knowing that the man was coming. Not once had Aila ever mentioned the Duke before this trip. How did such a dame even become close with such a man? As the guests were preparing to dismount Luna approached the duo offering her hand to help Lady Aila from her steed; She arrived atop a fine black warhorse that looked a long way down for the little lady. Once both were dismounted in front of the grand stone fountain Luna introduced herself, “Fair Lady Aila you already know me all too well, however Duke Fontaine I have never had the pleasure! Well, maybe once on the battlefield.” Lady Tempest would bow before continuing, “I am Luna of the house Tempest and Grey Exarch of Shadowdale. Allow me to welcome you into my home. It may not be as well appointed as what your grace is used to but I am sure you will find it comfortable.” Luna would give both her guests a smile, “Lady Aila does you a disservice Duke of Perdan, I knew you were older but not once did she mention how handsome you are. I can see why Aila likes you. You will however be happy to know that when I contacted Lady Aila over accommodations she demanded quarters fitting your station.” “Rumor has it you are the great Pirate Duke of Perdan,” Lady Tempest motions towards the fountain where a model warship not quite unlike one you would find in a bottle is floating around in the rushing water, “I hope you find these accommodations to your liking.” Luna contains a chuckle while pointing towards the model boat. Lady Storme peered into the large fountain as Luna pointed and let out a jovial laugh instantly; realizing somewhere there was a broken bottle without it's ship in the name of this horrendous joke. Luna admires Aila’s easy laughter before pressing on, “I jest, of course a state suite has been prepared for the Duke and Lady Aila can stay in my quarters as requested, shall we retreat inside? A grand feast has been prepared in anticipation of your arrival.” Walking towards the Mountain Manor the Grey Exarch concludes her introduction, “Oh and one last thing my precious guests, I have extended an invitation to my liege Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine. She may join us at some point during your visit, I hope you don’t mind as this is her land after all.” Lady Tempest turns to face the Duke and the Dame while servants open the great oak doors of the manor behind her, “Welcome to Shadowdale.” Tempest Family/Cartography_Archive#Mountain_Manor_in_Evora | |
| Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
“Rumor has it you are the great Pirate Duke of Perdan”, - Lady Luna Tempest The man who alighted his horse took her hand in the practised manor of a professional statesman, “Lady Exarch, you do us a great honor. Perdan and I are overjoyed at the invitation and the accommodations. I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been up here! It’s beautiful… exotic, in a way”. He takes off his duster and a broadbrimmed hat; they are whisked away in a moment by a porter. The Duke is tall and broad, patently a warrior; some said, among the greatest swordsmen of the era. His clothes, although sturdy and made for travel, were fine and tailored, his fingers decked with silver and steel. Dark hair – some wisps of grey - was pulled back and tied with a silver toggle, a sharp goatee manicured. He walked with a brave swagger, armed with a sabre which was perfect for travel on horseback; rumour said he favoured the cutlass at home, of course, and lately a more urban rapier. The Black Bladed Duke chuckled at the model warship, sinking down onto his haunches to admire it, and spin the wheel with his finger, “I make these, at home!”, he said with a boyish excitement, “So much of my life before was at sea, it just made sense. Honestly, it is fine and patient work, and satisfying. I should have brought one with, for you – I apologise. I feared it would not make the trip. Instead!”, he uttered, rescuing a case from his stewards as they departed with his gear. The box itself was already a treasure, of darkly stained walnut with inlaid pearls, and a nautical theme of mosaic ships at sea made with shell and lacquer. Inside, laying on a bed of silk was a blade, of sorts, long and sharp and transleucent. “Trolls tooth”, he said simply, “I fought them once or twice, in the deepest south when the ice came. Saw one bite clear through a mans thigh, tear another apart. They were beautiful… and deadly”, he says to the two ladies. “And a mouth full of these!” He withdrew the tooth, as long as a mans forearm; it glittered in the sun as if it were ice or crystal. “With careful honing, it takes a good edge; be sure to have your smiths bind the hilt well, as any touch can cut. The pirate knight of Perdan replaced it carefully into the case and snapped it shut. “I hate to stand on protocol, but is there anyone else we aught to greet before we continue? We already caused a bit of a stir on the way here, and I’d hate for anyone else to get offended.” | |
| Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| Roleplay from Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora) "Protocol is ever the foe of comfort m'lord," an elegant woman dressed in simple robes and of indeterminate age stood on the far side of the fountain, though quite as to why no one had noticed her before now was just another of those little mysteries which characterised the comings and goings of Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Lady of Evora and personal envoy of The Shadow King. | |
| Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
How endearing it was so see him take genuine pleasure in something so simple and small, she couldn't help but imagine him in that big ornate chamber concentrating on tiny boats in his spare moments. Luna's awful boat joke had won her a laugh from Lady Storme but the Duke's admiration of the little toy had warmed Aila's heart. Swiftly, he retrieved the gift he had carried all this way for Luna from one of his men and she got to see the contents. Of course; a gift worth more then everything and Storme has owned ten times over. Standing by admiring the two of them as they interacted for the first time Aila began sizing up Luna not as a potential target but instead as a person; a woman. Outside of her big ugly armor she was rather comely with her rare combination of raven dark hair and bright blue eyes. She had a physique as hard as you would expect from a fighting woman yet did not stand near as tall as a man. With Luna standing beside Smiddich, Aila was able to realize in that moment that they were of the same height seemingly and the memory of Luna deflecting her attack so easily once again stung in her heart. Somehow she had convinced herself Luna was this beast of a woman but now she could see no; She is no beast but she must instead work very hard. By the look of lady Luna's estate she had no need for more money and it seemed likely that the tooth would in fact make it to becoming a weapon for Shadowdale's Grey Exarch. Just as they were about to enter the manor the soft voice of another woman caught Aila's ear and she was quick to reel around to witness the sudden and unexplained appearance of a robed Lady who she could not recognize. This stranger stood apart from them; the misty display of the water feature obscuring a face already foreign to the young Lady Aila. She reached out grasping her Duke's arm gingerly in a gesture to both notify him of this new woman that appeared with no carriage and no horse seemingly out of thin air and also one of guarded cautiousness toward her. | |
| Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| Roleplay from Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Lady Tempest received the gift from the Duke with contained excitement. The “Troll’s Tooth as he called it looked like it would make an excellent blade and she fully intended to use it as such. Luna would have the ornate box and the treasure within handed off to Lissa; who despite being shouted at earlier was still standing firm ready to serve. “Lissa bring this to my quarters and be careful about it” the Grey Exarch ordered before turning towards the Duke once again, “A beautiful gift, your grace, probably more than I deserve considering it has barely been a month since I ordered an invasion of Nascot but I will graciously accept. I will be sure to meet with Shadowdale’s finest smith to have it prepared for myself.” While walking towards the Manor Lady Tempest would take notice that something or someone startled Lady Aila. Turning around revealed that someone was nothing other than Luna’s liege; Baroness Dubhaine. “Ah my liege, who else but yourself could arrive in such a mysterious fashion, almost as if you emerged from the shadows themselves for no one knows this land better than you.” Lady Tempest would proclaim before formally introducing the Lady to her guest, “Duke Fontaine, Lady Storme allow me to introduce my liege; Lady Brigdha Dubhaine, Baroness of Evora and Ambassador of Shadowdale.” The Grey Exarch would ask and motion everyone towards the manor once again while asking a question of each guest. “So fair Lady Aila how did you find the road?” “Duke Fontaine, you hand some trouble along the way? I hope it wasn’t caused by any of my men.” “Baroness Dubhaine, I hope that I have kept the Mountain Manor estate maintained to your liking.” | |
| Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
"Your Grace, it's a pleasure to renew our acquaintance. I trust your journey East was an uneventful one?" there was genuine affection in the Baroness's eyes as she offered the Duke a slender hand with a surprisingly firm grip, "With all the trouble on the roads of late I've taken the liberty of arranging extra security for your stay though I doubt anyone will be foolish enough to risk Lady Luna's wrath." The extra security wasn't really necessary, not here in Brigdha's own Demesne, but it never hurt to remind guests that the high passes were guarded. | |
| Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Duke Fontaine, you had some trouble along the way? I hope it wasn't caused by any of my men." - Lady Luna Tempest,
It was hard to tell whether there was a hint of mirth, a touch of smirk in the pirate lords demeanor. He patted Lady Ailas hand as she grasped his arm, "I just wanted to take advantage of the current political situation and get out of the city, certainly not to cause anyone discomfort or alarm. Actually, I've always looked at Evora on the map and wondered - is it a mountain? A forest? A lake? I am pleasantly surprised to discover that it is all three!" "Your Grace, it's a pleasure to renew our acquaintance. I trust your journey East was an uneventful one?" - Lady Brigdha Dubhaine
He takes a deep breath; the air is _thin_ up here! "Perhaps, ladies, you would entertain my curiosity and take us to most convenient and tallest vantage point? I'd like to see the view up from up here!" | |
| Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| Roleplay from Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Aila lets Fontaine answer for her, falling silent while the the more seasoned statesmen made his show. Her Falcon flies overhead, swooping and diving in the mountain winds it loves and likely missed. The cool mountain breeze then sweeps over the courtyard as the Duke mentions an era of peace causing Aila to shiver; She would never question him here but after the climb to the Manor the distant smell of roasted meat within the warm home called to her more then a cliff-side ever could. She had to admire the energy he had at any rate. "Lady Luna sent us a map" Aila reminded him "There is a lookout only accessible from the manor as far as I can tell; as well as another beyond those cherry trees" She had spent quite a bit of time staring down at that map Luna had drawn her, yet another talent Aila was a bit jealous of. How did she manage to get so very good at so very much? Since turning of age Aila could mainly only recall marching, fighting...This was not the time to think of it. "I can smell dinner from here" Aila said in a very Aila-like way, always teetering on the edge of annoyance. "If you'd like to admire the view i'd like to admire the food as you do" the young knight declared while disappearing inside the great wooden doors removing her riding cloak as she did. She knew she had a funny way of getting along, or rather not getting along with people yet seemed not to care most of the time how others perceived her. Commoners least of all as Luna's staff moved out of the little Knights way while she followed her nose to the manors dining hall. Doormen posted let her in instantly and she was the first to witness the spread Luna had put on for the Duke. The stone room consisted of vaulted ceilings long windows made with glass so old it appeared to be dripping like water and obscuring the scenery outside. Banners of Shadowdale and house Tempest hung from the walls among tapestry's that showed their ancient age despite the care that had gone into their maintenance over the years. On the heavy oaken tables there was set enough for them and every member of staff and perhaps a small village as well. Roasts of haunches and fowl Aila did not even recognize arranges on beds of roasted onions dripping with juice. Sweetbreads, pigeon pie and apples roasted with spices sat beside mountain berry cakes frosted in sugar. "Forget the view outside the view inside suits me more" she declared to the delight of a serving girl who poured her a cup of sweet red wine "Leave it to a man hm?" She said cryptically as the serving girl replied with an amused but incredulous look as Aila sat alone at the table. "I can see why Lady Luna likes you Milady you've a fine humor" "Humor?? Oh. Yes...Aila the amusing they call me" Perhaps if the girl had known what they really called Aila she wouldn't have laughed so readily as she left Aila with her drink. | |
| Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| Roleplay from Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora) "An unusual lass," Brigdha's eyes tracked the young dame's progress through the Manor House, a boisterous bruise of swirling energetic yellows with an undercurrent of purple self-doubt, "Though doubtless age will temper that." | |
| Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Lady Tempest watched as Aila boldly stated her intention marching into her manor while listening to her own liege's apt description of the young golden haired noble. "Lady Storme might be the bravest and boldest lady I have ever met. No qualms about stating her intentions and following through regardless of who she is addressing. Gods I love that fiery spirit." the Grey Exarch affirms. Luna faces the Duke to address his earlier question, "Well the most convenient and tallest vantage point would be the manor terrace which just so happens to lie beyond the great hall. From there one can see the entire valley below with its crystal clear brook and misty waterfalls... It's even a great place to dispose of unruly guest. Again I jest, forgive me, your grace, my liege, Aila's very pretense make me want to pester others. I simply cannot help myself." The Grey Exarch makes her way to the manor just entering the door, "If your grace and my liege would like have moment with each other please feel free and allow me to excuse myself. I shall have the servant pour everyone a glass on wine and meet you all on the Eagles Perch." | |
| Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
"The Valley Pool is one of East Continent's hidden gems Your Grace, and Lady Luna's estate enjoys the most spectacular vantage point from which to drink in its atmosphere." Brigdha's voice was light like the clean summer air at this high altitude as she drew close to the Ambassador, offering him her elegant, dignified arm, "I'd be honoured to share your first impressions." She'd felt a strong temptation to claim the Manor for herself when she first moved to Evora, to play the role of The Baroness with splendour and power commensurate to the wealth in gold that flowed from the fabled Temple Delvings. Even after all her years as an ascetic, possessed of the full might of a Balancewalker, still the venal conceits of the Facies were a danger to be guarded against... Recognising her own frailty she'd opted instead to raise her simple brock upon the craggy stone ramparts of an ancient hill fort, nestled between the vertiginous peaks far above them at the headwaters of the mighty Bescanon. There where in ancient days some petty chieftain had ruled from a rude wooden hall the river burst from its underground fountains already fully-formed, a white torrent rushing headlong to the Western Ocean, bearing with it the rich volcanic sediment which nourished the river valley and gave the vineyards their distinctive vintage. Cual Dubhaine she'd named that place in Old Fontanese - Mount Dubhaine in the common tongue - and as many strange rumours surounded it as the Lady by whose command it burst forth one night from the rocky escarpment, a modest fortress to be sure compared to the mighty citadel complex of Akesh, and yet a vital chokepoint in the complex web of mountain passes which snaked their way through the torturous peaks, every approach guarded by sharp eyes and deadly shafts. For this was the playground of the Ghost Watch, that rumoured association of men and women who'd from time to time been remarked about The Shadow King's business abroad and yet whose loyalty was ultimately to House not Throne. | |
| Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Smiddich looks on with amusement and concern as Aila patters off to enjoy the repast; the porters and staff they brought with simply shrug and go back to unloading the wagon and saddlebags brought with, and storing it as directed. None of them will likely get to sample and of the finery inside except for scraps and leavings, but it sure does smell tasty.
"Lady Storme might be the bravest and boldest lady I have ever met!" - Lady Luna Tempest
| |
| Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| Roleplay from Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Almost instantly she had asked for music and music came; to her delight a counter tenor lutist took up a stool nearby and asked Lady Storme what sort of music she liked. A most unexpected but instant answer from the young knight "A song of love" won a smile from the bard before he began his tune; with no one there to groan at her request he began a sickly sweet ballad about a woman from the southern kingdoms and her champion for Aila to listen to as she picked at a berry cake and sipped her wine. She seemed entirely unbothered to be alone not having come to make a show but rather see the Grey Exarch outside of a battlefield; as circumstances made that rather hard at the moment she settled for checking things out herself and so far she was impressed by Luna and her home. Hidden behind a dreamy look at a comely young bard, Aila gave no hint of the creature of doubt that lurked in her heart. It had been there since the Gala, it had marched with her South and marched with her North and it sat with her now still at Luna's table. She would continue to watch the bard closely, his sweet words falling on deaf ears as internally she pondered her true place in all this. | |
| Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| Roleplay from Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Luna made her way to the great hall to see Aila already enjoying the food, wine and apparently the bard who was playing a horrendous love song. Wasting no time Lady Tempest informed a servant to pour some wine for her two guests who had still yet to enter the greathall while having another servant pour glass for herself. Wine in hand she boldly walked towards Lady Storme and sat down right beside her. "Oh I love this song." Luna exclaimed while sneaking the bard a menacing glare for he undoubtedly knew the Grey Exarch did in fact not love the song but the implication was clear. Shut up and play. Looking into Lady Storme's eyes while caressing her golden locks Luna would speak softly, "You look fabulous my fair lady, riding clothes or not all you need to wear are those beautiful hazel eyes and that flowing golden mane. Also what's this I see." Lady Tempest would look down towards Lady Storme's bosom, "A falcon crest and a falcon's whistle. You are a true falconer through and through aren't you. However you know Aila you never did tell me how Luna tasted." The Grey Exarch would grab her glass on wine and take a large gulp awaiting with anticipation of Lady Aila's reaction. Would it be another duel request or something more friendly? | |
| Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Lady Storme had been thoroughly distracted with her thoughts, stirred by Luna sitting close at her side. She hid her surprise behind a sip of wine before turning to face the other woman. At once the realization that Luna liked a good love song as well as she did made her smile at once and her resulting compliment was met with a well practiced flattered act that she used every time someone commented on the golden made as Luna called it. Her straying eyes however were not something she was used to getting from any noble in Perdan. Innocent Aila let out her somewhat shocked breath as she resolved that Luna had simply noticed her chains and wanted a look; the mention of Luna her falcon softened her still. Deft fingers picked the small whistle out of her shirt and she pulled it off over her head, sweeping her hair over once shoulder as she did so. She offered it to Luna, revealing a tiny tarnished silver whistle cast in the shape of an otter "I didn't eat her. I was trying to hurt you." for once the little knight did not sound annoyed. "And I brought the whistle for you." In an uncharacteristic move, away from her Duke she would admit "House Storme has no treasure, or riches that a banker or merchant would care for. I can only offer things that /I/ care for.You gave me a companion that I shouldn't have taken for granted; then an invitation to a place I never thought I would come to in peace. This is all I have to repay you. My father taught me to hunt with it, it's shrill...Probably not much good to you. It's not much good to me either. But it's been close to my heart for many years so I hope you'll keep it close to yours." She sat back now, the one to drink as she waited for Luna's reply; Internally daring her to try and refuse the meager gift. | |
| Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| Roleplay from Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Smiddich allows Brigdha to lead them slowly on a tour of the mountain oasis, taking in the expansive height of the settlement. Though small, it must have been an impressive feat to build on such a precipice. Being used to sails and masts, and living on somewhat of a precipice himself, Smiddich was no stranger to vertigo and dizzying heights. "Your Worship", he says plainly, once they had reached a lookout and enjoyed the view, "My presence here must be confusing", admits the Duke of Perdan. "It must be unseemly to you for a man of my age and stature", he clears his throat, "To be escorting a slip of a knight so much my junior. Her relationship with Lady Luna is baffling and full of juvenile spite, but I believe it has no true toxicity at its core. The two threaten each other, perhaps, in a contest of wealth and power... but I perceive also a mite of jealousy and adolescent curiosity. If not from both sides, then at least from one to another." The Duke turns away for a time, not wishing to dwell on that subject overmuch. "These are truly strange times", he admits, in the overstatement of the century, "And the council and I are truly baffled that the previously wholly antagonistic war machine of the North has ground to a halt. Both Perdan and Shadowdale are now of a like; full to brimming with idealistic new knights, pressing at our borders for give, and clamoring to find ways to entertain them without causing an international incident. It must be that every realm refuses to send the declaration of war without the best cause, lest they be identified as the aggressor." Smiddich turns to address her face to face, "Brigdha, Perdan the realm - the one that people want to hate? It doesn't exist any more. There was a time when we might have deserved what was coming to us but those responsible are gone, and if not, gone from any position of power. All that my young knights have known is this war, and not the reasons for it. Believe us, we have not shied from our awful past, but we have tried to be the better for it." He shifts uncomfortably, "I know that everyone is clamoring for allies, now. No-one wants to be the one sitting out of this dance. I want Shadowdale to know that Perdan has endorsed a peace treaty between our two nations; no more war between us. We'll come to your defense if you suffer for it; if Shadowdale is overwhelmed, you can count on our support. We're nearby and have plenty of knights eager to move North across the river, if it comes to that. However, I understand that you have been allied with Sirion, Eponlynn and Nivemus for a long time. You may still owe them a debt, if not fealty, and we understand that. What I'm offering you - Shadowdale - _right now_ is the first right of refusal. We will not be offering it to Eponlynn or Sirion, and my hand will not be extended for long. I beg you to grasp it!" The black bladed Duke composes himself, "If not a peace treaty, then one of neutrality, perhaps? Formalised; not to go without saying as we had with Nivemus, or Caligus. For those nations too look for allies. The deep south has finally gotten its act together and with the Vixen merger, their strength is now undeniable. They'll look north for vengeance, without a doubt." He sighs, "Aila and I shall depart in the morning. I thank you most kindly for your hospitality. I believe we best go and check on the girls before any blood is spilled!" | |
| Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| Roleplay from Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
"Children are indeed a concern when left unwatched for too long, much like a boiling kettle," Brigdha's voice betrayed just the merest hint of amusement in contrast to her otherwise serene facade, an enigmatic gesture which did nothing to dispel the somewhat disconcerting sense that she often knew far more than she was letting on. "I think it's quite charming that our two young ladies have formed such a strong attachment despite their mismatched natures, and I see in their rivalry something not entirely dissimilar to the tension between our peoples," even though the Duke towered over the Baroness her presence somehow seemed undiminished by the comparison. They began their leisurely walk back towards the Manor House and their waiting refreshments, as if the heavenlies were leisurely descended on the peaks of Evora to speak of matters pecular to their estate. Here and there a bird's fulsome screech pierced the evening quiet as the sun sank behind the snow-capped peaks, spreading a sea of purple and orange across the escarpment whilst the sheer sides of the Valley Pool receded into deep shadow. The air would soon turn chill as the last weak light of day guttered into ashen twilight, limning the woodlands below with a delicate rime of hoarfrost even at this time of year. But here in the heights watchful eyes would continue their silent vigil, limbs huddled in thick woolen cloaks within their unseen hides. "A younger generation seeks a place in this world Smiddich, just as your generation did before them, and mine before that. Few amongst men remember all the sorrows of our past let alone of the times before," Brigdha stroked a whisp of hair from her face, sable strands gliding effortlessly over unwrinkled skin, "Yet there are other powers in these lands who do remember. Once men perhaps, but not of our lineage, to whom the spilled blood of ancient days still screams for vengeance. And there are things immeasurably older. Darker. Unforgiving. Minds which slumbering dream great and dreadful dreams." "Have you ever heard of The Great Serpent? The Dragon of Elfland?" she stopped, turning to face the Duke and holding his gaze for the briefest moment, a moment which stretched to eternity and back as a flood of images and emotions crashed in no particular order into his consciousness. Smiddich reeled, struck with a vertigo alien to him and the priestess steadied him. Was this a dream? Sorcery? There was no rock on which to anchor the experience as faces cascaded before his eyes, elf and man and orc, and a babel of tongues filled his ears. But there was an anchor sure enough. A sword forged when the world was young, and two malevolent lidless eyes, serpentine brimstone chasms. The vision was gone in the instant but it left an imprint permanently etched in the Duke's memory and in subtle ways the world seemed new to the Pirate Lord's eyes. "Whilst the dragon slumbers so do I, a curse from Elven youth, but when the dragon rises in ecstasy, I’ll be that serpent’s proof!" their lips moved in unison as the doggerel passed to her by Meristenzio now passed to Smiddich. | |
| Baroness Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
Lady Tempest paid the utmost attention to Lady Aila as she unveiled her gift for the Grey Exarch. At first Luna was a little disappointed that Lady Storme seemly did not understand or did not care for earlier advances but as Aila spoke it became evident that she was so pure of heart she couldn't possibly understand how the Grey Exarch truly felt. "But it's been close to my heart for many years so I hope you'll keep it close to yours." - Aila Storme Luna was deeply touched by the Dame's gift. What would seem quite a meager gift to most meant the world to Lady Tempest, she even had to hold back a tear or two while receiving the silver whistle from Aila's out stretched hand. Holding Aila's hand in her own along with the silver whistle Luna would speak to her fair haired friend, "Lady Aila you have me at a loss. Your gift already means the world to me. I do not measure worth in amounts of gold but in quality of character. If you say this whistle has been close to your heart it's as if you have given me a very piece of your own heart and I will treasure it always." Studying the whistle carefully Luna saw it was cast in the shape on an otter giving the gift even more significance as the animal was said to symbolize friendship, peace and kindness. The Grey Exarch wasted no time slipping the silver chain of the otter whistle over her head to rest securely around her neck giving it one more glance before looking back into Aila's gentle face. "I wonder!" Luna exclaims jumping from her seat grabbing Lady Storme by the hand and dragging her along, "Come with me, I wish to show you something on the terrace and your gift should be perfect to call him." The Grey Exarch proceeds to lead her guest along until they are both standing out in the brisk mountain air with the very last light of the sun to soon be hidden behind the tall mountains around. Luna pressed the whistle to her lips and unleashes a loud shrill then looks towards the sky. A few moments pass but nothing appears, the sky is as beautiful as ever but is complete empty except for its failing color in the darkness. Luna looks back to Aila slightly disappointed when from below the terrace a great gust of wind rises and a massive brown eagle along with it. Ever the master hunter and the king of the sky the great bird surprised both ladies and perched upon the roof above, sharp deadly talons gripping and breaking some of the clay tiles underneath. He would spread his wings wide once stretching at least 10 feet wide before folding them majestically aside and staring down at the two women below. Luna could barely contain her excitement grabbing both Lady Storme's hands and speaking to the Dame, "Aila this is Apollo, my friend nay my kindred spirit. We crossed paths the last full moon but I had not seen him since. He is a omen of my destiny and I had hoped he would come to the call of your whistle. Its seems my fate is not only entwined with this symbol of freedom but also with you my fair lady." Letting go of Aila's hand and looking back at the towering eagle Luna continued, "If only you could get to see his majesty up closer but i'm afraid Apollo is still a free spirit, a wild king. I regret that he will never be tamed to command, perhaps a testament to our own fates my Lady." | |
| Lady Luna Tempest, Grey Exarch of Shadowdale | |
| Roleplay from Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
The gratefulness Luna received her gift in truth was relief to Aila; the little whistle was a relic from the days her little fingers did not serve her to whistle for her falcons and the trinket was her late fathers dear solution. As she pulled the necklace over her neck Aila helped by pulling the raven black braid through and let it rest on Luna's shoulder. At once her hand was clasped in Luna's and she was pulled to her feet then across the great hall of her estate to a Terrance attached as the Grey Exarch exclaimed about meeting /him/ "Him what do you mean him?" Aila winces at the sound of the shrill whistle; she had played with it on the way to Evora but she hadn't realized quite how deafening it was for everyone around it. Something about Luna seemed defeated in the moments after the whistle, Aila put a hand on her shoulder in unknowing reassurance, as she was about to ask what the matter was a brown flash carried on the wind caused her to jump; startled. The great bird Aila recognized at once as an eagle spread it's wings in a rather threatening display Aila cling to the arm of the other knight in shock and awe. Dame Aila had a look that could only be described as dumbfounded as Luna grasped both of her hands and explained excitedly what she had just witnessed. The jealousy that always plagued Aila seemed to have shown itself once again as when Luna let go of her, Aila disappeared at once into the dining hall without a word. A long moment passed before she would emerge again with leg of a lamb still dripping with fat, the bone clutched in one hand as she inched toward the giant beast without any hint of wanting or needing permission. Fascination overtook caution as the lady falconer moved close; offering outstretched to Apollo as he stared down at her with keen eyes that reflected the dancing light of the torches set out on the terrace. "It's for you" she insisted, taking another cautious step forward. The swift snap of a break longer then her hand made her breath catch in her throat but she did not jump away or even move an inch as he ripped the gift out of her grasp and pinned it under one foot and began tearing away at the flesh swallowing huge chunks at a time as Aila sized him up in absolute delight. "Kings don't need taming, do they handsome fellow" she spoke softly, too softly to hide the trembling inside her. "Nothing to regret about it at all" The opportunity to stroke his feathers was right there, yet Aila valued her archers fingers too much to chance it. Once he finished his snack she backed away to Luna again, having drank in her fill of the massive animal up close. She would resist the urge to gush to Luna about it all; instead she grasped Luna's hand in hers remaining silent to watch her kindred spirit with quiet and keen interest until he took his leave. | |
| Lady Aila Storme, Dame of Aix | |
| Roleplay from Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
| (Message sent to everyone in Evora)
“Have you ever heard of The Great Serpent? While the Dragon slumbers, so do I, a curse from Elven youth, but when the dragon rises in ecstasy, I’ll be that serpents proof!” Lady Brigda Dubhaine
“I’m sure I have not, your Excellency”, he says at last, turning up the collar of his cloak against a suddenly frigid blast of cold. “But I thank you for the tour, the view, and your attention. If you will allow me to pen Perdan’s official offer, I shall leave it for your review before we depart, tomorrow. Now – we had best turn our attention to our knights, I fancy, should be left alone no longer!” He escorts the priestess down the cliffs again, but it is uncertain who is supporting whom. Twice, Smiddich is struck with a bout of vertigo – unimaginable! – and once the surefooted pirate slips on a loose rock which clatters to the ground. The world seems out of focus and sounds jangle discordant in his ears. At dinner, and during the evenings conversation, he is dour and distracted, easily startled by light and sound. He drinks heavily, but eats little, and the one cigar he takes burns low without his intervention. Is the Duke lost in the perils of diplomacy, his thoughts reeling with treaties and the wages of war? Or is the subtle susurrous of the slumbering serpent insinuated into his psyche already? He stands, suddenly, unsteadily, “Ladies”, he utters, addressing Aila, Luna and Brighda, “I fear I must retire. The long journey and the thin mountain air does not agree with me. My apologies, please; if you will see me to the accomodations, I would be obliged. Thankyou for entertaining us here, in the heart of Evora. The trip has been eventful, and I hope, fruitful for our nations. Think on peace, and if not peace, then at least, not war.” With that, he turns and swirls off down the corridor, brooding with sour thoughts, to pen a treaty he fears will never be signed. In the morning, he rises early and urges his men to prepare horses. It is clear he has not slept. Aila is the only one astute enough to notice, meekly (for the Duke snaps at her once for tarrying), that the grey streak in his hair has disappeared, replaced with ravendark. | |
| Duke Smiddich Fontaine, Ambassador of Perdan | |
Calm before a Storm
| Letter from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
((100 Gold attached)) Here you are, my poppet, My way of apologies after Evora. I feel I am not myself- perhaps, the climate did not appeal to me. But I feel my vigor restoring now I am back at the capital. Yes, I daresay I feel better than ever, Buy yourself something nice, | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Letter from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
(A letter is delivered on plain paper sealed with dyed blue wax stamped with a falcon sitting at attention, the handwriting is neat and feminine; Aila has written it herself) My Duke, You have nothing to apologize for, though you carry the weight of your role well I realize what a burden it must be to leave your station even for a moment. Just that you endured that for me means the world. I am in the capital tonight as well, have I ever told you that I was raised within the city? Earl MacArbin treats me well and i've held an Estate in Aix for two years now but even so the city is the only place that feels like home. (Near the bottom is a post scriptum scribbled more hastily) You do not need to send me gold every time you write; your attention is gift enough. Yours alone, | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Letter from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
Lady Aila, No, you did not tell me you were raised in the city! I myself was raised in Domus under Caligus rule, but I soon took to travelling and in my youth was a miscreant from North to South. My time at sea was cruel but lucrative, and I arrived to settle at Xavax as a knight. Those were different times. I have never much cared for Aix, nor visited there for long. But I ramble. If I have not yet mentioned, I maintain a suite of chambers in the Bloody Stump guildhall; it is a magnificent building, lovingly restored. While I myself only stay there when I have reason to stay late in the city, being too distant (or too drunk!) to return to the Ducal Palace, the suite is clean, comfortable and well provisioned. The liquor cabinet is always full and the fireplace ready to be stoked at a moments notice. If you find yourself at a loss for accommodations while in the city, I fancy I can find a second key. You may enter through the taphouse, which takes noble and common clientele, or through the private gated entrance. Both are guarded, both discrete. | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Letter from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
(she's drawn him a winged stag on the top left of her letter, on it's head is a conspicuously placed crown) Duke, Your offer is a generous one and I won't refuse it, thank you! Most often I am alone and so don't drink but inns no matter how grand don't exactly scramble to find rooms for mere knights arriving late to the city. I am on the road to Bescanon this morning otherwise I would take a look right now. We were so close to Domus it's a shame we didn't think of it before hand. I wonder if Caligus would allow us passage as kindly as Shadowdale? You would know better then I. At any rate it would have been a treat as I've often wondered about the University among other things...I have a difficult time picturing you as a miscreant, you've been well behaved for me shall I take that as a good or bad sign? As for cruel; My life long I've heard tales of our Pirate Duke, Black Bladed Phoenix, Captain of the Wayfarers Gambit...Would you do it again knowing what you know now? You owe me no such explanation, such are the things I ask myself in the long hours. Whatever your journey I am grateful for it, I don't believe I've ever expressed that before and I should have. Most times when I see you I can do little more then stare, on the way back from Evora I couldn't help but think despite the rough time you had, you left looking finer then when you arrived... (How is that when I felt as though I had become a pickled slug coming down that mountain?). I've gotten carried away with this letter; Thank you again. X | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Letter from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
My Lady, No Knight of Perdan is a mere knight, and you are no mere knight of Perdan! It pleases me to enclose a key to the suites above the Bloody Stump in Perdan City; take a care that no copies are made, for the accommodations are tasteful and expensive. The staff have been alerted to your potential visit, and shall have them lay in another dresser for your things, as well as a screen for your modesty. If you have your valet coordinate with mine, you are welcome to lay in a change of clothes and sundry; simple ring the bell on the nightstand if you wish attendance by the staff. Yes, come to think of it, a trip to the city Domus would be good. Perhaps, after the great hunt has concluded. Are you attending? I find the event boorish but I content myself with managing the guild that is coordinating it. I do quite enjoy setting up these social gatherings, if you hadn't noticed. My cousin, Ramon - a revoltingly dashing and charming playboy of a Knight - he was Duke in Domus for some time; heard tell he had a fling with Queen Tenielle, among others, and no doubt sired many children during his tenure, and if not then, than as a Priest of the Church of Humanity. He was Emperor of the Obsidian Isles, in a quirk of fate, so in a way, the Fontaines have some history with the Isles. I am not about to press it. He perished in a rather unsided battle somewhere between Caligus and Xavax; I am told the weeping was quite out of control, for he was beloved. Would I do it all again? I simply had no choice. After I was chased off the mainland for circumstances that I shall not go into, I was pressed into service as a seaman for some years. The masters were crueller than the waves but I found myself grown stern by the hardship. I came back angry and ready to prove myself worthy of my birthright; I had a King's Ship, after all! The Xerarch forgave my crew and I our crimes and we found ourselves condemned to another hard mistress; I never saw anyone as wicked with the blade than her. You needn't stare; I'm not going anywhere, | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
MacArbin wasn't kidding when he called this place an extravagance Aila stood alone in the stone-lined baths of the villa in Nascot, just recently invitations to all the best spots in Perdan had begun opening to her and she was the last person to refuse them and just now she was feeling rather glad she had taken advantage. Clouds of steam hung in the air over the deep basin of warm water- far too much for one person sat waiting for her and she did not delay sitting on the edge removing her cover, then placing a small book atop it before lowering herself in where found it to be the warmest bath she'd ever been in, and not unpleasantly so as most of the baths she had gotten in her life were either outdoors or in a tin tub set front of a fire in her chamber. Occasional drizzling of water echoing off the halls was all she heard the whole time washing, the calm atmosphere easily sent her deep into thought as she went through the long process of caring for her long yellow mane. Beside her the book housed a letter slid between the pages which she had received moments before sending out her scouts and retreating to the bath, further fueling her contemplation. When she was satisfied, and clean hair was pinned up on her hair she would reach for it- without a letter opener a little winged stag stared at her from it's post as she began simply ripping the paper off the wax seal and caught a key slipping out the end, narrowly, before it hit the water. Aila set it aside then settled back to read, always secretly enjoying a mix of excitement and fear that rose inside of her every time she read these certain letters. Gifts, stories, and a quip at the end that made her slap the parchment down onto the stone and let out a somewhat exasperated sigh, accompanied by a wry smile. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Letter from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
My Duke, I've made it to Nascot safely, Earl MacArbin has made me very comfortable here but as you are happiest by the sea I feel I am happiest in a city. I'm already looking forward to my next trip there; your consideration knows no bounds as you think of ways to spoil me that even I could not dream up for myself. As for attendants I can only think of one I'd like- otherwise i'm quite happy to serve myself. As for the hunt I haven't decided quite if I'd like to go. The Earl intends to tend the dogs and his wife's trophy's, it's tempting to go just to watch that. I have only seen them together once but the admiration he holds for her, the praise he showered her with even in letters to little me, it's all very romantic. Outside of that I admit I am not very enthusiastic about being at an event where Renodin is at front center, it is a recipe for boorishness as you called it. I'm sure i'm not the first to feel such a way ... I am sorry to hear about your cousin; a revoltingly dashing Fontaine knight, philanderer of Queens - He sounds like the sort of man I might've liked to know. When they tell stories about Fontaines- they never mention the hardship behind it all just the glory. I've heard it said a hundred different ways that suffering makes the man so why don't they put it in the stories? I prefer to hear it the way you tell it. And I'll stare if I like. No mere knight, | |
| Aila Storme | |
A call to duty
| Letter from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
(a frantically written letter is delivered with the slough that is likely being thrown at the Duke at the moment, on it's seal a blue falcon) My Duke, I write to you in urgency in the wake of the news- The king is dead. I had never thought to imagine Perdan without him; but now that the day is here it is not the need to mourn I feel but the need to fight. Please, I know how you must feel; I urge you to try and save your mourning for later as I will. Take up a crown that in my eyes without Kay Peregrine is rightfully yours, others will try to claim it yet I would rather to serve no other but you as the head of the crown in Perdan. Fight for it as I am willing to fight for you as my King. I believe in you. Your most loyal knight, | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Letter from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
Lady, Long live the King – the King is dead. I heard the news this morning. I am holding up well, under the circumstances. Perhaps I am in shock – I am sure the full weight of his passing is yet to be pressed upon the realm and her leaders. In truth, Kay and I were more business partners than friends or brothers. We rarely asked each other for advice we didn’t already know the answer to, but he was pragmatic, determined and straightforward. I always respected him for that. I have some preparations to make; no doubt we will all attend the funeral if we are able. I’m going to dedicate a position in the Great Hunt guild in his honor; a title given to the Champion of the Hunt each year. I think he’d like that. I don’t have long to talk today, and I’m sorry. I have… visitors… and I’m not going to enjoy what some of them have to say,
| |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
Kay's Burial
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
The not-yet-King, Duke Smiddich Fontaine, attended the funeral in somber blacks and grays; a rugged furred cloak of some magnificent beast, heavy boots and a scowl. He was attended by Lady Aila, the slim blond in mourning black, a veiled hat covering her eyes and a kerchief clutched in her hand. She stayed close to the Duke, who offered his arm to cling to as they watched over the casket and the assembled nobles. When it was time for him to speak, the Black bladed Duke took the podium and lingered there for a moment composing himself. "King Kay Peregrine, and I", he started, "... we were not exactly friends. I should suppose I would liken us more to brothers, or business partners. There was a mutual trust, and a respect given and received, but we each had our own jobs and we did them. That was the damndest thing about Kay. When he trusted you, you were in. He gave you the leeway and the latitude to do your job and you did it because it made him proud. I've have done anything to make him proud of me." The Duke shuffles a bit and clears his throat, "King Kay was a modest man; he never took to a castle or a keep himself, never took expensive trips or bought fancy boats!" A ripple of muted laughter travels through the throng. "Everything he had, everything he did, was for our nation. Where we were once the smallest nation, now we are the largest. Where we were the most beset, now we have liberty; this was Kay's gift to each and every one of us." He stands to his full height, "Kay and I may not have been friends, but I loved him, and respected him, and shall miss him dearly." The Dukes features contort as if he is fighting back tears as he utters, "He is in Leandras arms, now." | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
Meeting At the Guild Hall
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
The downstairs rooms of the Bloody Stump are muted, as the common serfs and minor merchants drink in memory of the departed King. Duke Smiddich, however, is in a fine mood. Gone are the nerves that wracked his quill, and he paces his suites with vigor. The apartment, taking up very nearly the whole top floor, is a studio bedroom, study and parlour. Everything is in the richness and luxury that the Duke enjoys, and precious little of his typical nautical style. No, someone else has very certainly styled this in a more contemporary style; there are even paintings of things other than boats. Perhaps, Lady Dustiria had a hand in this? In any case, the door clicks; a lady appears. "You got my message? I'm glad you came!", says the Duke. He's giddy; liquor took the edge off. There's no telltale smell of his cigars anywhere, and he appears to have been recently groomed and dressed leisurely for the evening in a smoking jacket. Up close, he is tall and broad, and takes the ladies hands in his. "I cannot thank you enough for your help. This couldn't have gone better, and I have you to thank!", he grins. The Duke turns to a liquor cabinet and pours a drink or two from a crystal decanter, "The messages afterwards were quite flattering. I hope not to dream that we are in with a shot, but I am relieved. With you by my side, I simply cannot lose! You're quite the lucky charm." Smiddich draws the lady close, "You know, we pirates are very superstitious. I'd better keep you around, my poppet, so that you continue to bring me good luck! And I you", he says. He smells of lilac and tastes like salt and heat | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
The name of the place may have been lacking in Lady Storme's opinion but as with all things the Duke had a hand in the place was decked with finery yet subverted her expectations as it all was of a nature far less nautical then she would've assumed. Outside these guildhouse the mood in the city was dour and the weather dreary, out of respect Aila had put aside her flamboyant uniform of the Golden Lions and instead wore riding clothes of simple black dyed leather. Under her cloak her long braid hung over a slender shoulder, secured with an azure ribbon. Not knowing what to expect behind the door to his chamber always flustered her, she remembered the time she had visited him at the palace with her letter from Luna...She had learned swiftly that his disposition could be unpredictable and she wanted to be prepared for the worst. To her delight, her fears were allayed the instant she entered the room; He was in good cheer and as he grasped Aila's hands in his she realizes at once that he'd been drinking before her arrival. The young knight would greet him with a devilish smile as he served her a drink of her own; after the restless night and day of travel she couldn't blame the man as at the moment the Aila who sputtered at brandy in his solar was long gone. Seconds after he offered her the tiny glass and she empties it half a heartbeat before being drawn closer still. Smiddich draws the lady close, "You know, we pirates are very superstitious. I'd better keep you around, my poppet, so that you continue to bring me good luck! And I you", -Smiddich Fontaine "See that you do, when I see a man who rises to the occasion I can't tell you what it does to me" the words escaped her with an fervent intensity and she showed no sign of hesitation in placing her arms around his neck. With the dainty glass still held between two fingers she would kiss him with a heated intensity, her demeanor night and day to the enamoring but skeptical moment they shared on the Gambit.Aila forced a moments pause, breaking the kiss to linger close to him "You cannot relax your efforts, keep following the path you believe in this is just the beginning. I meant what I said in my letter I am at your service-and i'll be beside you every step" | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine (collab part 1 & 2) | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Part I
Content Warning: Sexual Content (sexual content) The Duke took her bodily against the wall, not roughly enough to jar but with deliberately confidence. He pressed himself against her before descending on her neck with his hot mouth. "The results will be announced tomorrow", said the swarthy pirate Duke, "And I fear I shall not be able to sleep on account of the nerves!". He takes the glass from her and sets it on a side table. "When the dust settles and the victor rises to the top, there will be war!", he grins with excitement, "War and opportunity for those who wish to seize it! Guided by a strong hand, there is only glory for Perdan!" His strong hands pick her up and set her easy on the table, straddling up to her, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait.... until I am King?" Part II The lady had taken full advantage of his closeness, slender fingers surveying the sailors body she so admired. There could be no mistaking what she wanted as she listened with cheeks flushed as he spoke of war, opportunity, strength. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait.... until I am King?" -Smiddich Fontaine.
The small woman in his arm would let out a whimper unbidden as the heat of his mouth descended once again to her neck, large hands daring to explore her. Resting had turned to sleeping for Smiddich and in the quiet of his suite only soft sounds of sleep accompanied the crackling of fire in the hearth. For his companion who lay beside him propped up on one elbow, sleep did not come as easily. By the dim light of the hearth she would observe him affectionately; watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, her fingers occasionally lightly tracing the faded lines of tattoos that bore meanings she could only guess at while he slept. It was some time in the long hours when the persistent pecking of glass would cause the lady to slip out of the bed bare in the chamber to inspect without waking the Duke. Outside on the ledge, a black bird pecked over and over at the latch and pane. Just as the lady unlatched the little metal lock on the window, the creature forced it's head through and announced abruptly "Banetal is on the way to Perdan!" Outraged, she would cover her chest with one arm and push the bird out with the other- locking it shut again before turning back to the bed; hoping the commotion hadn't woken the man who she felt had so badly needed a good rest. It could wait till morning. | |
| Smiddich Fontaine (collab part 1 & 2) | |
| Roleplay from Dustiria Noire | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Dustiria is talking to Bruce the bartender when the messages with the election results come to the Bloody Stump. She takes the missive for her and the one for the Duke, who she had been informed was staying in his suite. She cracks open the seal and her usual expressionless face breaks into a grin and she has a hard time not sprinting to the stairs. Barely containing her excitement she gets to his door and takes a moment to breathe. The man she thought of as an uncle who had guided her over the years was King! Soon she would tell him and share a bit of breakfast and chat before the affairs of the kingdom took over. Straightening her purple gambeson she knocks composed once more. She can hear movement and some muffled words coming to the door. "that's odd Bruce didn't say he had company this morning already" she thinks to herself. The door opens and Smidditch says, "Ah breakf....Dustiria????" protocol clearly not on his mind. He stands before her in a black dressing gown and nothing else. His swarthy skin, tattoos, and oh those muscled legs on display for her brown eyes. "Is that a woman's voice coming from the bath??? Eyes up stop looking...Leandra where is it safe to look?" she thinks as she goes from composed to looking like a bright red flame at least her skin on her face does anyway. Dustiria thrusts the election result missive into Smidditch's hand, bows, mumbles something about congratulations your majesty and runs down the stairs and out of sight. She gets to the bottom and goes to Bruce, "poor me a whiskey" she gets it and thinks to herself, "That's a poor foot note for history. hey Dustiria heard you were the first to tell the king he was king how was that? ugh..." "Bruce poor me another" Dustiria tells the Barman. Bruce wisely says nothing at all. | |
| Dustiria Noire | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Smiddich takes the scroll from Dustiria, scanning the papers for the hastily written results. He checks it, twice, and glances at his young Knight who nods enthusiastically. A wide smile breaks out across his face and he grabs her up into a hug, mindless of his state of dress, scandal be damned. "That's wonderful news, just wonderful!", he says, clinging to the parchment for a moment before relinquishing it to the firebrand cavalier. He breathes a shaky sigh of relief, "I.. I suppose I aught to get ready. There are arrangements to be made, of course. These are.. momentous times!" Dustiria turns to leave, but he calls after her, "Buy a round on the house for.. damn it, free drinks, all day! I want this place absolutely maggoted, and tell them the reason why!Call in favors from the brewers if you have to, and charge it all to my tab. If you see the staff with our breakfast, have them bring it inside, and change the linens. I'm going to take a bath!" | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
The Coronation
| Letter from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Invitation to the coronation of the new king. You have been invited to attend the coronation of Duke Smiddich Fontaine. All the Lords & Knights are to be invited to see our new king recite the oath of kings and take the crown. I hope you all can attend this very special occasion. Regards | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Letter from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation of the King! Everyone please make your way to the Ducal Palace for the coronation. You are instructed to wear your armour or any ceremonial armour you have in your possession. This will be a wonderful day for Perdan and history will remember it. Regards | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Roleplay from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation of the king. Lucius chose to wear his ceremonial armour, it offered little in protection but looked stunning. Cast in white and gold he looked resplendent. Throughout the week he had instructed for the grand hall of the Ducal Palace to be decorated beautifully. Banners and tapestries hung delicately across the room. Lucius had arrived moments before some lords and ladies of the realm had began pouring into the great hall, he took a moment to survey the room and appreciate the effort the artisans of Perdan had delivered. "The new King will hate all this...IT'S perfect" he laughed to himself. He had known Smiddich Fontaine for a while now and let's just say his taste was somewhat less over the top as dear Lucius. Lucius turned on his heels and approached the giant dais at the end of the room before taking his position. "Welcome dear friends! We shall wait a little while longer as more are on their way". Lucius spoke. | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Roleplay from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
"Captain Xiomara could you please inform the guards outside that once the lords of the realm have been seated they can allow the nobles and then finally the lesser nobles in" Lucius instructed. It hadn't occured to Lucius to give people specific timings to arrive until he seen a hulking knight looking awkwardly into the grand hall. "I think I may need bigger seats" he mused. | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Roleplay from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation of the King Lucius had ensured that all the noble houses would have their heraldry on full display within the hall, after all this was to be a moment that would be passed down from generation to generation. Not many could say they where there when the king of Perdan got crowned and even more so one as loved as the Duke himself Smiddich Fontaine. Lucius stopped to admire a heraldic flag he knew very well. Blue and white with the ever present black bird. 'House Peregrine'. He had personally seen that the Peregrine family had representation within the hall. "Seneschal...i'm sorry to interrupt but the extra big chair has arrived that you ordered" squeaked a very tired looking gentlemen who had the task of locating a chair big enough for a 7 foot tall man. "Wonderful news" Laughed Lucius. Everything was going according to plan! | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
His study faces the sea. It was a mercy today more then any other day as throngs of nobles milled around outside vying for a spot close enough to catch a glimpse of the new king when time time came, a sea of peasants barred out just beyond. For Aila the view was of a calm ocean sparking in the sunlight paired with a white Falcon riding the breeze and the only sounds to her ears the bustle of staff outside the heavy door and the crash of waves through the open window far, far below. For Lady Storme the preparation was easy. She wore her armor which was light, designed for an archer and shined to a gleaming finish with her tabbard in proud Perdan colors. The long yellow hair she took such pride in was neatly wound in a delicate twist secured low on her head by a single silver hairpin and as always the silver falcon of her house hung at her throat on a thin chain. At first it had been a relief to be told to wear her armor for the ceremony, she had felt glad that she was not stuck in a fitting being measured and pinned. As the time grew closer and the number of armed guards hired by the Judge patrolling the castle and it's grounds began to swell she had begun to wonder how much was ceremony and how much was precaution; it became harder to feel glad. Today had very little to do with her and still she felt nervous in the face of it all. She would stand with the other knights to watch a man become a King and that fact alone threatened to summon tears but Aila resolved long before then that she had spent her time in Brive weeping and she would not repeat that today. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation (prep) On the Big Day, Duke Smiddich was ushered from his bed early, and paraded in front of a range of stylists and artists, all ensuring that he appeared at his most resplendent. “Armored” was the theme of the event, and His Grace was more than not accustomed to wearing very little; a breastplate, if anything, and typically a heavy coat. But, to appease his knights and adoring public, he was resigned to wearing something a little fancier. First, white undertunic and hose; he could don those himself. Then a padded jacket and chausers, over which an assortment of squires started attaching plate mail pieces. Each were meticulously crafted, and intricately filigreed in silver designs. The Duke dutifully held out each limb as it was encased in steel, strapped with tiny buckles at each joint. The breastplate was a masterpiece of design, not heavy, but master crafted with the Lion of Perdan on either side in silver finery. Meanwhile, the Duke was brushed and groomed, his black hair and beard achieving a patronly fullness without a trace of grey. He had to admit, as he was shown to the mirrors, he felt more trim than ever, even in the armor; it was certainly flattering. A broad sword belt was affixed around his waist, with a straight longsword, which he habitually tested in the sheathe. It was mostly for show, but you never knew. The weapon was fancy, but sharp and would serve. As gauntlets and sabatons were affixed, a heavy coat was thrown about his arms and shoulders; it was luxuriously furred, a deep collar of some fine pelt. A fine hat was set upon his head; reminiscent of a commodores cap, but he would not need that adornment for very long – he was looking forward to another, much more substantial piece of headwear shortly. Duke Smiddich was handed a ducal scepter, that jeweled rod being his sigil of Margrave over Perdan City, and was escorted by this throng and selected knights of his troops to a carriage, which would take him quickly to the Throne Room where history awaited him. | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
"There's no time for that now" "I'm sorry Milady" A castle-maid followed behind Aila apologizing profusely until waved off dismissively by the young knight. Gladly, the woman disappeared and left Lady Storme searching the corridors of the castle's hold for what turned out to be an easily spotted man encased in gleaming armor. Still surrounded by attendants he was very occupied with the last touches of his appearance giving her a long moment to stand back and look him over without being spotted. Unsatisfied with the vantage point she would make herself known to the attendants by shouldering right between them and presenting herself in front of Smiddich with no friendly greeting but instead a stream of chastisements for the stylists who looked between her and the king in utter confusion as she fussed over him herself, her comments toward the men responsible for the armor never slowing. Lady Storme pulled up the sleeve of her tunic to shine a nearly invisible smear off his shoulder, two fingers smoothed an errant hair back smartly, and she straightened the little silver trinket in the shape of a falcon taking flight hidden in his collar just because she was surprised to see it there on such a day. Aila took a step back with the attendants who had designed the suit and nodded approvingly much to the amusement of the men; who were quite happy with it before she arrived. It was from here when she began inspecting the scepter for any imperfection she noticed as the Duke held it the Fontaine Signet ring she had never seen him without was missing- replaced today with a different one she hadn't seen before. But time was short and the matter of his rings had little importance in that moment. "Don't let anyone else touch you now you're perfect" she warned loud enough for the attendants to hear and left him with a rather rough peck- missing his cheek in her haste and landing somewhere on his jaw as she retreated from him as quickly as she had forced her way in. The Throne room was a display of lavish pride in Perdan, banners hung proudly, guards stood armored near as beautifully as the knights meant as much to be decoration as security she was sure. She had left the Duke to his fate and found her way into the throne room through the same door as the other knights rather inconspicuously. Dame Aila realized instantly that the knights of Perdan looked as fine as their soon king as she looked around at the sets of useless yet beautiful armor some of them wore. Looking rather plain in comparison, she found herself a place alone to wait toward the front of the throne room observing her fellow knights thoughtfully as they arrived. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Nemean JeVondair Renodin | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation of the King 1 Flanked by several retainers Nemean had made his way into the Ducal Palace at Perdan. The preparations were in full swing. He could see servants and finery in every hallway. Where he went however, there would be fewer and fewer of them. The Throne room. The clang of his steel sabatons rang off of the stone floors. Steady and confident. His body was decked in intricate gothic plate. Darkened and highly decorative. Even for its parade purpose it was solid. The gauntlets fine yet sturdy. The inlaid pearl and gold expensive but not in such a way as to cause trappage for weapons it was supposed to deflect. The shoulder mounted neckguard wasn't attached but the fittings were there. His legs encased in masterly inlaid sheets of metal. Under them padding and again under those fine fabrics. Lavishly sprinkled with his signature perfume. Myrrh and mint. Aside from his helmet he neither wore his gauntlets. The latter hung from his belt while the other was held by an attendant wearing his livery. Clasped from the front of the shoulders by gold-wired cords. Hung, draped over his shoulders a thick cape made of fine dyed wool worked with cashmere. Broad and full as to match the substance of the armor it wreathed like a dark sun. At the very bottom there was a cut that separated the very end in two distinct pieces. One of which waved to the left and the other to the right as he moved. On either ending a Lion. Embroidered in gold upon the jet black fabric. Each lionine creature in its own habitat of heraldry and symbolism. The Lion of House Renodin and on the other side, the Lion of House JeVondair. Their clawed paws arching upwards. Following a verdant vista represented in the gold of day's end. Upon reaching the center of the cape one would find the Lion of Perdan. Enshrined in an orb of golden fire. Shining its rays down and all around. At the very top, the stars of night, high on the cape and studding the shoulders of the man. They fell away behind the dark golden hair of the Prince that wore it all. Nemean cast his green eyes across the room. His jawline taut as he worked the muscle. The entourage of retainers dismissed with a gesture of his hand before he moved into the room proper. The golden plaques that made up the ambassador's necklace bounced against his chest-plate. He took in the people that had gathered. Noting the giant of a man greeting Kenneth and Dustiria. Looking beyond he noticed how Lorelai proverbially huddled up to Delphine and whispered words. The Poe stood center piece where ever one would find him and this was no different. It forced his angular features to betray a curve. He moved further into the room. There sounded another clang. Not before revealed. From his side there hung an ornamental flanged mace. In the style of his armor and sporting a multitude of Lion's claws. His eyes left the person of Lucius as he glances across the room to spot whatever he might've missed before. But not much new came into vision. Sharing a look with the Poe he surrendered to the curve and smiled. At the same time he gestured with his open right hand. A single, heavy gold ring on display. Before he reached his friend however, his feet had brought him to where Delphine had been seated. Love. He offered to the air and as a means to not startle the warrior lady overly much. He leaned down with more grace and ease than the armor might've led on and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Whispering words into her raven hair before closing his eyes and breathing in her scent before pushing off and continuing on. Two strides became three and with the Poe not that far away, the two were close. Hands reached out and firm grip bonded men like promises do words. Kinship was obvious and white teeth flashed as the two so obviously enjoyed one another's company. Always a pleasure you peacock. The grin not far away. So Nemean arrived at the coronation. Delighting in the company of his friend and being close to the woman of his heart. | |
| Nemean JeVondair Renodin | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation The judge looked calm an in control, the other knights so far seemed to all be in good cheer and Aila had slowly begun to relax despite the rather overwhelming setting. Staring at the dais she pondered many things about what the Judge had planned for that day; this was the only coronation Aila had ever attended and she had no idea what to expect from it. The murmuring of noble ladies directly behind her distracted her from thoughts, the words 'he's so lovely' floated their way past Lady Storme as she turned to see who had garnered such attention. Immediately she felt like an idiot for turning because of course... Nemean had made his entrance looking like something out of a sonnet: the Golden Lion, a dashing knight, pausing only to admire the maiden he so loved. As he surveyed the room, Aila surveyed him and found that she had entirely escaped his notice despite the friendly words he had sent her in his last letter. As he greeted Poe she summoned up some extra nerve and approached the story-book knight with a courteous greeting. As in all things Aila did not mince words "Sir Nemean, how fortunate to run into each other at such a crowded event- It's been so long I wonder if you can still match a name to my face." Her words were kind but the shrewdness of her tone never left. "I just wanted to say congratulations on your new position. Your letter writing, prolific; Your armor absolutely resplendent." Finally the little knight broke her stoic act with a sweet smile, just for him "You will make a wonderful Ambassador." | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Nemean JeVondair Renodin | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
The clasp of hands released. Nemean inclined his head at the Poe and they smiled. Words were for lesser people. They had music. The flowering voice of youth sprang with a thousand notes. The gold maned head turned to gaze down upon her soft features. The green of his eyes near vanished behind slits. Prolific jousting. The corner of his lips turned upwards and the gem-like hardness of his gaze softened as a sparkle of joy lept into it like a fish reaching beyond water. He reached out with his arm and placed a hand on her shoulder. The gesture not hiding the peering he did again. Aila wasn't it? The words offered carefully and deliberate. Just like his strong fingers gently squeezed her shoulder before letting go. Thank you for your words, the Duke, soon to be King must agree with you assertion of prolific. He glanced around to see if he could spot Smiddich yet. Either that or he's foisting a great burden on me. I don't mind though, I can shoulder it. The smile twirled and turned but didn't relent to a grin quite yet. It quite settled in fact as she smiled up at him. Thank you. He blinked. We should talk afterwards. The tone of his voice made it less of a suggestion than it could've been construed as. His gaze already working the crowd. The brow above giving every sign of deeper thought. The eyes of green returned to her in an instant. Afterwards. | |
| Nemean JeVondair Renodin | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Remaining cool, she couldn't help but glance down at his hand as Nemean touched her- not outraged but rather surprised that he had dared such a gesture; in her experience only the boldest of the bold who dared to reach out and touch her the prickly dame of Aix. She had no more smiles for him as glanced around the room in a way she decided was peculiar. Aila could take a hint as well as any other and with his request to talk to her heard she left him with a curt nod and walked with arms folded back to her place. A murmur swells from the crowd as another armored figure enters the throne room, anticipation prickles through her as Lady Storme dares to look before bowing on cue with the others. She watches with interest as Fontaine's precious trinkets are redistributed and tries her best to keep a stalwart appearance even as anticipation stirred inside her so vigorously. Since the moment he had emerged she had took note of how calm he seemed, and as the scepter of the city he loved left his hands she wondered if under the surface he felt something very different then the easy confidence he displayed. | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
The Crowning of the Pirate King I Some years ago, aboard the Wayfarers Gambit The galleon lists to one side; she is taking water. One sail is shredded and the other afire, both flapping in the smoky breeze. Another ship, leaner and laden with guns is moored alongside and fixed with boarding ropes and hooks. A ferocious battle occurs between the Island King's men, and this band of privateers; professional savages given leave by their sovereign to do harm to his enemies. The corsairs are ruthless, and although regimented, the Kings armsmen take heavy casualty from grapeshot and cutlass. The ocean is stained red and floats with debris. What remains of the armsmen form a rough half-circle surrounding their Monarch at the forecastle. There is nowhere to retreat, their swords out but shaky as the pirate horde descends and bays for their blood. From among the brigands steps their leader; he is tall and broad, in long jacket and mismatched boots. Swarthy, heavily bearded and tattooed, he holds a battered cutlass in his hand. A bloody rag is tied around his arm but the sword never wavers. "Tell yon crew to stand down, your Majesty", says the heavily accented pirate Captain, "This vessel is mine, and everything on it. "If ye' want to live.... drop steel!" "You will never take what is mine!", snarls the foreign King. Duke Smiddich accepts Ailas preening, and the kiss on the cheek. His attendants look cross, but there was little they could do to prevent her intrusion and last minute repairs to his attire. His eyes are kindly on her she she departs. The Black Bladed Duke squares himself to enter the Ducal palace, up through the steps and along the tiled corridors that lead to the throne room. Everywhere he looks are people, his soon-to-be subjects, lining every street and at every window. For many, this is a once in a lifetime experience. For the once Pirate Lord, not least of all. The Monarch elect steps surely through up the steps, his long cloak arrayed behind him to flow across the tiles. His steel boots clatter as he makes his way down the richly decorated hallways of his home. The intricate steel and silver half-plate have a way of making one feel confident; invulnerable! So, Smiddich enters the hall where all eyes alight on him. The once-pirate surveys his knights; resplendent in their personal armours and waiting to receive him. The members of his council wait at the top of a step, and there, the throne. Kay's throne, on which he rarely sat when he was in power. His worship, Sir Poe, is the only one smiling, tapping his foot to the music only he can hear. Smiddich takes a breath and begins to step down the hall. His knights salute, bow or curtsy as he passes, and he replies with an imperceptible nod, a wink, a raising of his bearded chin. The soon-King approaches his council, and stands. The hall is so utterly quiet. A trio of pages bearing padded cushions move swiftly behind the councillors, and Sir Smiddich of Perdan removes his fine hat. It is a mastery of royal millinery, such darkest blue to appear black and subtly jeweled. He presents the hat to Sir Benjamin, Baillivus of Perdan and the Margrave of Biscye. "If you would be so kind, your Excellency, and mind this for me?", asks the Duke, setting the hat on the cushion. Next, the Duke addresses Sir Poe, Judge-Seneschal of Perdan. "I hear you are without a blade?", he asks, already reaching for the buckle on his magnificent scabbard. The leather is dark, oiled and worked to suppleness, with silver and steel fittings. The sword is straight and strong with bold, curved quillions. He hands the weapon, scabbard and all, hilt-first into the Senescals hands. "May it serve you well!", says the Duke with a smile. Finally, he alights on Lady Alyssa. "My lady of Bescanon", he addresses the Imperatrix, "My hands are full!", he laments, twirling the gold and gem rod in his fingers; the staff represents the Margravineship of Perdan. With a playful flip, he presents the rod to Alyssa, closing his hand over hers for a moment, "This is yours now", he says meaningfully. The pages bear the prizes away on their respective cushions to stand nearby, that the King and his subjects may attend without encumbrance. Sir Poe, Priest of Leandra, moves to the centre of the stage - the only obstacle now between Smiddich... and the throne. | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation of the King - Oath of Kings. "First i would like to say Thank You. To the soon to be King for giving me this honour and to everyone of you for attending and being apart of this great occasion" He started looking at the gathered crowd before turning his attention back to The Duke. "Smiddich Fontaine, Duke of Perdan, Margrave of Perdan. You stand before all of us as it was you who won the right to wear the crown of Perdan. These are the votes of men and women who have faith in you to lead our great realm forward into a new age. But faith is fleeting and can be misplaced and that is why we have the oath." Lucius looked at the Duke aware he was the last thing in his way of his prize. "The oath is sacred. The oath is a promise. To reward the great people of this realm for believing you are fit to rule. As i read through each section you are to answer with 'I Will', this is to demonstrate you understand the burden of the oath and the weight it carries" He continued casting his eyes down he begins to read. Will you take the oath? Will you swear to uphold the laws of our realm at all times? Will you swear to protect our ideals and customs from internal and external threats? Will you swear to bring hope and prosperity to our realm? And finally. Will you swear to speak the truth even if your voice shakes? Lucius looks at the Duke as he reads the last line awaiting his answers. | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
The Coronation of King Smiddich III "The oath is sacred. The oath is a promise. To reward the great people of this realm for believing you are fit to rule. As i read through each section you are to answer with 'I Will', this is to demonstrate you understand the burden of the oath and the weight it carries" - Sir Lucius Poe
Smiddich stood with his back to the throng, facing only the Seneschal. Behind him; through his armour and his cloak, he could sense the enormous excited energy from his knights. The room was incredibly still as the Lord Senescal asked his five questions. From a down-on-his-luck adventurer, to a pirate corsair. A pardoned hedge knight becomes a Knight of the South. Betrayed, or a betrayer? He throws off his former loyalty and joins with the refugees three in Perdan. The black bladed Pirate Duke... finally accepting the highest station in this, the greatest of realms on the East Continent. Five times, Sir Smiddich surely answered, "I will!" | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Lucius Poe | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
Coronation of the king - The Pirate King "The oath had been spoken!" Roared Lucius. Lucius instructed the soon to be king to take a seat on the throne nearby that in just a few moments will be his. "the time is nearly upon us so please indulge me a little longer as I say one last thing before we crown our new king...I've known Sir Smiddich a long time and in that time I would say it's been an honour to have known such a proud honest man and he honours me greatly by asking me to do this task for him. He honours the Poe name and owe him for finally letting me see my true purpose". Spoke Lucius, a tear falls down his cheek as he looks at the Duke and smiles. Lucius picks up the crown from the nearby table and stands before Lord Smiddich. He slowly places the crown on his head and turns to face the crowd. "ALL HAIL KING SMIDDICH" he exclaimed his eyes closed and arms outstretched. | |
| Lucius Poe | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
"ALL HAIL KING SMIDDICH" he exclaimed his eyes closed and arms outstretched. - Sir Lucius Poe
He smiles kindly and nods, trying to make eye contact with each knight in the crowd as he is able. The din is deafening, a raucous wall of sound and an almost heady calm comes over him. He spies young Kenneth and Dustiria, whom he each counselled in courtship. His Marshalls, Rogos, Lorelai, Delphine and Ulric; ambitious and stalwart young leaders. The council, forming an honor guard on either side the stage; Alyssa, Benjamin, Lucius, the lifeblood of Perdan, protecting not only the honor and livelihood of his knights but her people as well. Sir Nemean, his new Ambassador and recently rival for the throne; enigmatic and lively. And one lady in particular he owed much. For her, a warm smile and a lingering glance. Yet, there were innumerable other knights, some new, some yet to achieve glory. All worthy and deserving of his protection, guidance and opportunity, should they only prove the equal to it. The rest of the day is spend in extravagant celebration in food, wine and song. The city celebrates late into the evening, hosting coronation themed events and commemoration. The King would send forth plans for change, soon, as he had pledged. A castle was sited and had only his say so to begin the construction. A subtle shift and sharing in the responsibility of his Lords and ladies was imminent, now that the heavy crown sat on his brow. It was jeweled, and very sharp. Much like the international landscape at the moment, if handled badly, there would be blood. | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Perdan)
The roar of the throne room of nobles shouting their approval, Long may he reign, À Perdana, long live the king. Lady Storme shouted once "À Perdana!" and clapped with the others as cheers abounded and outside the throne city bells began to ring again, having been silent since Kay's death. On the throne sat the new King of Perdan, chosen by the people and loved by so many. Her breath caught in her throat as even standing in a crowd, small and dressed as she was he managed to seek her out and gift her a smile that made her heartbeat quicken and a genuine grin come unbidden. Aila was proud of him, but felt silly saying so out loud to a man already so accomplished. Scared for him, but felt foolish telling him so as he could protect himself with ease. Excited for the future, but worried that like with so many of her hopes it was naive to express it. All of this hid behind her smile as she the roar of the throne room's celebration carried on. If in the end this is all folly, she thought, At least he is well loved. | |
| Aila Storme | |
A note
| Roleplay from Aila Storme | |
| (Message sent to Smiddich Fontaine)
The Kings study, normally a very tidy room shows signs of someone decidedly less tidy having been there. On the hearth a womans sable cloak is hung, in front of it a pair of boots sat half tipped over and left to dry. Beside the kings chair an ashwood bow is leaned precariously upright and on his desk the kings important work is displaced along with an inkpot and quill that have been moved to the right.... A leftie has been here. Whatever letter she had worked on is gone and sent to it's recipient but in his place there is a scrap of parchment left behind; his own royal stationary torn into a scrappy square leaving only a small verse beside his signatory winged stag, on it's head inked a black crown.
With a heart pure, and intentions sweet, my devotion to you grows with every heartbeat. " | |
| Aila Storme | |
| Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine | |
| (Message sent to Aila Storme)
Smiddich takes the square of parchment and reads the poem over several times. He has never been a poet himself, but he appreciates the sentiment and the rhyme with a smile; he fancies he can catch her familiar scent on the paper. From a locked drawer, he takes a journal, a heavy and scarred tome of leather and brass. The pages are yellow and the uneven, as though there are many secrets hidden within that cannot be convinced to lay flat. A simple ribbon marks a swath of pages, not blank, but heavy with notes, pictures and stories, each marked with a crowned stag - Smiddich has saved every one. With a fond smile, he insinuates the square of poem parchment into the crease of a page, and slowly closes the journal, returning it to the locked drawer. That done, he reaches for his stationary and prepares to pen a letter. | |
| Smiddich Fontaine | |
