Unti Family/Nerta/A4S4

Mielba's Tale
Letter from Elios Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Priestess Dame Mielba, This name harkens back several years in my memory... though I heard your name not as priestess at that time, might you have been in attendance at a grand tournament in Fronepu? With respect and sincerity, Elios (Duke of Valour, Margrave of Vore)
Letter from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Duke Elios! Why, yes! I attended the tournament in Fronepu... was it really so long ago? Oh, but- if you remember me... Oh! My performance was horrendous!!! I am afraid I faired similarly as a warrior, much to my chagrin. Were it not for my lord, I would not be here to tell the tale. Mayhaps the Gods spared my life for that very reason. I am predisposed to to pen and paper as opposed to the sword and shield. (I declare that the smug scribe who penned that the pen was mightier than the sword had the good fortune to have never encountered their enemy directly.) The irony of preaching for the Old Gods is that I no longer engage directly in battle. I admit, I fear criticism on this account... However, I have long felt the calling to preach. I think that... Oh dear. Look at me ramble. I do not even know if you hold any interest in such topics. What holds your interest, Duke Elios? Besides tragi-comedic swordsmanship? May the Gods smile upon your works. Mielba Cordenata (Dame of Agyr)
Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods From the journal of Mielba Cordenata: The Battle at Seven Rivers Dark, heavy clouds overhead, bluish purple like bruised flesh. The edges of the sky, clearer. Frayed wispy tendrils, tinged orange by sun rays reaching out from the horizon. Flash. Bright white lighting. Cracks, spread. A sky broken like glass. Thunder. Battle. Swords, teeth, and viscera. Humans, Monsters, and Undead. Desperate cries mix with shouted orders. Mielba pulls her cloak tighter against the sporadic rain. The ground, wet and muddy. Up the hill, a mob of monsters closes on its prey. A handful of men had foolishly, sought a tactical advantage from higher ground. But they were far from Bob. Mielba shivers. They will die soon, shredded to pieces by the devouring swarm Her heart rends. Unbidden, a wordless prayer surges from her chest. Fury mixes with longing and thoughts of The Old Gods. Immediately, the crowd blossoms open; grotesque creatures thrown outward from the centre of the snarling mass. Another bright flash lights up the sky. At the centre, a lone, triumphant figure, frozen in time. Impossible... Its silhouette betrays an otherwise human shape. Six arms, spread apart and outward in various positions. Two hands grip a spear overhead, ostensibly used to thrust the mob back. Another grips a dagger. The remaining three also extended, as though used to grab and push. How beautiful... The lightning ends and the world goes dark. “‘How beautiful…’” the mumbling man in patchwork leathers wiggles his hips in the hard chair in a vain attempt to get comfortable as Mielba enters her quarters. “With an entranced preface like that, I’d bet money that the next page displays a sketch of your paramour surrounded by hearts and roses. Ah but it’s only a drawing of the battle rather than Elios. How odd. I always thought you fancied him; or wait, is that ‘will fancy’? Hmmm…” Veden’s bright eyes flicker along the page, but don't once rise to the reddening priestess. "You're pretty good you know, a real flare with the paints. One might think you were an artist first or something." Mielba stalks across the tent to snatch the journal from the reclined figure, her voice tight, “For someone who can see into the future, you’re incredibly nosy.” Vedens slips his feet from atop the travel desk and rises fluidly with a snap of the journal. Tossing the slim volume to the hard eyed priestess, he waves for her to follow, "Yes, yes, shock and outrage. Come on then, it’s past time for you to actually meet Nerta. She’s lovely, surly, but lovely. You two will get along famously, so much in common.” Mielba Cordenata (Dame of Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods "I can't tell which of you is crazier; the Old Man for refusing to stay dead or you..." Nerta waves a hand at Mielba's general direction, "honey badger, for volunteering to further this insane quest." Letting out a ghostly cough, the spectral hanger-on pulls attention to his mirror by the Stone Table of Ibnanzil, "Though put rather crudely by my young charge I somewhat agree. In fact, I mean no disrespect but, are you certain your family weren't equities? I ask because rarely are the Patricianate so, creative." “‘Honey badger’?” Mielba smiled wryly. “Usually they call me ‘Honeybee.’” She took a deep breath. “My father, Patros Cordenata, was Vanquisher who collaborated with adventurers. I am... not unfamiliar with those outside my circles. I grew up hearing my father’s stories and learning Beluaterran history.” She did a thing then continued. “My favorite stories were about a realm to our North. It was a place of culture, exploration, and prosperity. After a time of great strife the denizens lived in relative peace, mindful of the cost of war with other realms. When needed, they could raise an army so large and terrifying... No one could rival them.” When her father told her the story, he formed his hands around the fire, casting large shadows on the wall. The Melite legion was represented by a single tight fist, which grew as he unfurled his fingers and brought his second hand from behind to elongate likewise. “The Third Invasion was the first time the daimons attacked. Humanity fought amongst themselves, spending resources that should have been dedicated towards the real enemy. Realms shrunk. People starved. But Melhed was another story. The Melites fought savagely and chased away the daimons, hunting them down. They ran away in terror. The daimons showed fear.” “I heard that one of the reasons this kingdom was so special... They took in _anyone_ in who requested refuge. Not only that, but they would supply every individual with what they needed to realize their dreams.” The specter crosses his arms and glances aside, “Ah yes, ‘Dreams Manifest’ I must admit as noble as it sounds there were selfish motives behind it all. Happy people tend not to rebel and we had so many rebellions back in the day. For a time more rebellions than elections.” The spectre smiles with a puff of grave dust, “It did work out for the best though.” “Yeah… ‘Dreams Manifest,’” she said slowly. Reverently. “Well, it worked! It made sense! And it made people happy! Those are the best ideas!” Her voice softened. “I’ve heard stories about Melhed my whole life. I was going to move there when I came of age! And…” Hope turned to speechless anger, then she deflated. “I wish I could have seen it.” She looked up at the spectre, hopeful again. After a glance at the solemn adventurer, she refocused an imploring gaze at the Old Man. “If... there’s... any chance that Melhed- or something like it- can be rebuilt? I want to try. Not just because it was beautiful. … I don’t know if we will survive without it.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods The old man leans against his hand, considering the woman in honey gold from head to toe. As he reaches her gaze once more those violet eyes glance away to consider Nerta. Why had the Gods placed them together? For what purpose. Here was a young woman of eager disposition and a knowledge of the past. Could they not have made a start of this already rather than having to nag this foederati weaver. True this Mielba didn’t seem to have quite Nerta’s, instinct for combat, but she didn’t need that…. Or did she? Rubbing at his cheek with one thumb the ghost seems to age, his shoulders slumping as he closes his eyes. “The Republic is gone, buried by the weight of years….” Eyes opening once more he smiles faintly, “But this seems to be an Age of long shadows. The Republic may be gone but there are still those who follow the old ways and we could... gather them up once again to push back against the darkness.” Mielba Cordenata (Dame of Agyr)
Ra's Tale
Roleplay from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods The Streets of the City of Vore, Thalmarkin Sir Ra Endymion Hwitt, General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur, and Captain of the Showboat was not in a good mood. In fact, as he made his way through the city his mood was down right dangerous. He didn’t consider himself a dour man, and could usually be found in good cheer and good spirit, but the situation with the monsters in Thalmarkin had become nearly untenable. The army was moving now, the effort to fight back was beginning in earnest, but it didn’t make the wound in his shoulder from that monster feel any better. He hadn’t asked to be General, that “honor” had been thrust upon him by the King. He would have thought it was funny if he wasn’t the butt of the joke. But he had resolved to see the job through. He knew what it was like to be one of the poor and defenseless that were now packing the city, what it was like to live in fear of the hordes reaching their way outsides. Refugees from the countryside were flooding the cities of Thalmarkin, and his soldiers were having to gently force their way through the throngs of poor masses of peasants. Some called out and begged for alms or food as his retinue passed, others cheered and gave praise for brave soldiers defending them. All had heard of the brave but doomed attempt to break the monstrous hordes attacking Qual. Those few that had been in the city when the forces had marched out now saw far less returning home. Within the mass of humanity, a single clear voice could be heard among the din and clamour of the refugees, the voice called out, loudly and confidently, “Do not fear, Brothers and Sisters! For the Old Gods stand with us! For what else can inherit the continent of the Old Gods but mankind? What creature is in spirit more noble or brave? In constitution more spirited and forthright?” Ra heard the voice above the din and looked in its direction. There he saw a priest of the Old Gods, dressed simply in tabard and robe, waving a staff as he spoke to the moving crowd. Ra nudged his Captain and only female member of the Boys, Leomona, and said, “Well it’s about time somebody started making some damn sense. Boys! Head for the priest, let’s hear what he has to say, I could use a pick me up!” As Ra commanded, the soldiers made way for the priests, who paid no heed to the General of the realm before him. “For what is more glorious in body and countenance than mankind? Glorious is man, strong and able, reaping the harvest and defending the home! Glorious is woman, graceful and fair, birthing future and keeping hearth and home? Both are resplendent in their forms!” Heedless of Ra and his Boys, the priests pointed randomly into the crowd, “Rejoice for you are beautiful! Rejoice for you are glorious! Do not fear the Children, for we will overcome them!” Ra smiled as he listened to priest shout, “Yeah!” Ra shouted, “He says what we’re all thinking! Hot damn, Priest, I like the cut of your jib!” Ra moved forward to stand before the priest, who finally looked the Knight in the face. The priest reached forward and clasped Ra on the shoulders firmly, as Ra motioned for his shoulders to stand down and allow the man to continue. “Rejoice Warrior! General! And do not fear for you march forth with the blessing of the Wolf Lord, and you will smite the...!” The priest suddenly stopped his shouting, and looked deeper into Ra’s face, who allowed the priest to continue, bemused with what was happening. “No. Nooooooooo. You are something different. The Wolf Lord marches with them!” As he gestured to soldiers behind him. “You, General...oh Mist Walker! Oh Roof of the World! What a game you play now! Take this, General, and let the world watch you play the Great Game and know that the Twinkling Gaze is upon you!” The priest shoved something into Ra’s hands, a book with the lore of the Old Ones, and a small game piece, a Queen from a chess set, made of beautiful white and black marble. The crowd pressed in around them, the mass of mankind pushing forward, and Ra’s soldiers urged him him to continue. He nodded in agreement, and when he looked around again, the priest had disappeared, leaving only the book and the game piece in Ra’s hands. Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
Letter from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods Priests of the Old Gods, Greetings, I don’t believe I’ve met any of you in any capacity so don’t hold it against me if I’m out of line in some way in contacting you. I am Ra Endymion Hwitt, General of Thalmarkin, you’ve probably heard of me. I am contacting you regarding a rather strange set of occurrences that have happened to me recently and that have put me into contacting you. Met a man recently, looked like a priest of this outfit and he said some things about Wolf Lords and Emperors and bunch of other stuff I didn’t understand, handed me a pamphlet which led me to a temple in which I had to pay money to be let in (nicely done that) so that they would give me more reading material and a contact list. Funny thing though, fella that was screaming about the Old Gods in the streets gave me something peculiar and I’m hoping you can shed some light on the matter. Priest gave me a chess piece, a Queen piece, made of white and black stone, polished to a pretty sheen, he said something about an Mist Walker playing a game with me and watching me ‘with interest’. So I figured you all are holy folk, deal with a lot of nebulous half-prophetic ramblings and I’m really hoping you all can help me understand it. Thank You In Advance, Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Ra Endymion, Let me guess, the screaming man handing out cryptic words and gifts had a bright smile, a bit of a sway to his walk, wore a patchwork of leather and probably smelled faintly of stale wine. If that's the case, and from everything else you've said, there are a few possibilities but I'm afraid all of them are bad. Not in the 'you'll die tomorrow' bad, but more in the 'the Gods have plans for you' bad. Which I'd say from personal experience is worse. The Senex says that chess pieces and colours have a long history with the faith. The Dark Queen is the symbol of the Dark Mistress, goddess of the dead and protector of humanity. The White Queen can be used to mark the Ice Queen, but usually the white chess pieces are the symbol of the Wolf Lord, the god of life and protector of the monsters. The Mist Walker is rarely depicted with chess pieces because chess is about rules and he's all about breaking them. Either way if you've caught the eye of the Secret Catcher you'll probably be very lucky, or 'hilariously' unlucky. Of all the Gods the Twinkling Gaze has the strangest sense of humour so I'd expect chaos. I wish I had good news Ra but sadly you're not the first singled out, nor will you be the last. No doubt the Mist Walker has something planned for you. I just hope we can figure out what before it's too late. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods Ra sat at the campfire as a cold breeze swept down from the mountains to the south. He put away the guitar is was playing as his finished singing his slow song. Most of soldiers were asleep now, resting peacefully. Good, they would need it for the grisly work of the next day. Ra got up quietly and walked his small tent. Unlike other Nobles, he didn’t travel in great splendor; rather he had a simple tri-frame tent with a small chest on the far end, and cot on one side. He looked up into the night sky as he thought about how he had ended up here. From Captain of a ship to General of a Kingdom on the brink in less than a year...he knew he’d be a legend. But the thing about legends is that they aren’t usually very fun for the person living through them. He looked up at the stars as they twinkled in the night sky and breathed cold night air deeply. He reached into his pocket absentmindedly, and felt something cylindrical. He drew it forth and there sat the small chess piece the old priest had given him. He considered for a long moment. The priest had said he had the attention of the Emperor fellow but that the piece shouldn’t fit because chess was a game of rules. He laughed to himself as he thought of this. ‘If only that priest knew the truth...she’d shat her pants.’ Ra looked again into the night sky. They just twinkled back playfully, dancing their eternal dance across the night. Ra gripped the piece with has hand as tightly as he could, speaking out to the sky softly, ”You think you got my number, O Mist Walker? You think you got the play on me? I’ll tell you this once you son of a bitch, I’m the best there’s ever been! Ra facking Endymion, that’s my name, and you better damn well remember it!” Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
Roleplay from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods On the Road to Jedinchel, Pt 1 General Ra Endymion Hwitt was in a wonderful mood as his soldiers finally entered the small town at the food of the mountains of Jedinchel. The peaks shown like beacons with the last rays of sunlight as night began to fall once more upon the world. His soldiers had been expecting to stop here for the evening before heading out to the mountains the next day and and they set up tents and made fires, the people of the village came out to interact with the contingent. Ra sang as walked through the town, simply enjoying the the chance to relax. They would be back in the fight tomorrow. The great work was well underway, but now was not the time to be thinking on grand strategy, but for singing. Deep on the west side they play that music loud, The type of beauty that stands out in a crowd, Leaving you alone I’ve only got myself to blame, But I can’t hate the player just for playing the game, Just for playing the game, In Sandefur-town they kill over a glance, How could he know that he never stood a chance, Leaving you alone I’ve only got myself to blame, But I can’t hate the player just for playing the game, Just for playing the game, Anybody would do the same... As the song ended, Ra found that he had walked clear through the whole town, and was walking along on the lonely road up to the mountains. He wouldn't go far, just getting a chance to spend some time alone. Before too long, though, he came across a figure sitting upon the old stump of a birch tree. The figure was non-descript, wrapped up in the thick layers of a large cloak. The cloak though, was what stood out, as it was an immaculate stark white, as pure as a fresh snow. Even the bottom of the cloak was unblemished. The figure sat up as Ra approached and held up a lantern that cut through the gathering dark. The figure was an old man, clean shaven, and his face was old, but not weather-beaten, as one would expect from a traveler or peasant. The old man gave a small smile as Ra approached him down the road, and in a quiet voice that nonetheless was easy to hear said, "Hail traveler-upon-the-road, I could not help but hear your song as you approached. I have not heard that song in many a year, since I was a young man...but perhaps you would like to come sit and play a game yourself?" The figure gestured beside him on the ground and Ra saw a small games board on the grass. Ra figured he must have simply not seen it earlier. Ra had to admit he was intrigued. The figure seemed incredibly out of place on the road in this small village, but Ra figured he was some academic type from Unger, given his demeanor and so Ra went forward and sat beside the old man, saying, "Hail to you as well, traveler. I must warn you, if you are heading to the mountains, it is not safe. Some nasty ghoulies have been sighted in the area, and the area won't be safe until my men and I destroy them. But tell me your name so that I might know who I sit with on this cold evening." "Of course!" The old man replied, "I am Baleygr, a simple scholar. I thank you for the warning, Lord-General, but I do not fear those monsters in Jedinchel, not with the falling of night nor with the rising of the morning sun." Ra raised an eyebrow at the odd reply, remarking, "Apparently my reputation proceeds me Baleygr." The white-cloaked man nodded slowly and turned to face Ra, placing the lantern between them. "Oh, many of my order have taken note of the General, chosen by the King after such a short time of gracing this fair realm. It is quite a tale...the Son of Sandefur, more used to the sailing ship now climbs the mountains high...oh yes, my fellows do love to talk of your exploits over these last months and years...but you did not come to hear an old man ramble, let us play a game." Baleygr reached into the recesses of his cloak and withdrew a set of polished stones, one pair white, the other black and handed Ra the white set. "I assume the Lord-General is familiar with Go?" Ra laughed, "Aye Baleygr the scholar, the Lord-General plays Go. Though I'm surprised to see someone playing it here, it was only in the south I've seen it played. Since you are playing black, I believe you go first." Ra gestured for the old man to proceed and Baleygr placed a single white stone on the board. The two began to alternate, placing their pieces in turn and did not speak for a time. Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
Roleplay from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods On the Road to Jedinchel, Pt 2 As the game progressed, Baleygr spoke again, the cool night around them quiet in the early days of spring, "I saw you once already Lord-General, a few weeks hence. Upon the streets of Vore as the throngs made to escape the hordes of the Children of the Old Gods. You have already brought Yipinalke back into the fold of fair Thalmarkin, and in such a short time! Oh the changing of fortunes! To see the mighty brought low only, perhaps, to rise again even stronger...now that is a tale." Ra had been focused on the game, and only half heard the man when he spoke. This Baleygr was quite good at Go. Ra had spent a lot of time over the years playing games in taverns and so it was rare for him to have challenge. 'Damn scholarly types, always having time to play, I bet.' thought Ra as he made to give his reply, "We were hardly brought low, this whole thing has been a temporary setback at most. Even now the army moves to bring back another region under the rule of the King. But yes, I imagine there will be many tales told of these times, and as for Thalmarkin, I assure you sir, we are still full of tricks!" Ra placed a stone down on the board confidently, denying his opponent nearly a quarter of the board for control, firmly turning the game back into a dead even contest. Baleygr opened his eyes slightly at this and sat up a bit higher on his stump, chuckling as he placed his next black stone on the opposite side of the board and surpassing Ra's blocking move, again putting Ra on the back foot immediately. 'Dammit! How did I miss that!?" Ra thought as leaned back, and stared up into the night sky for a moment. "You are pretty good, Baleygr. What exactly are you a scholar of, because I might just force you to be one of my strategists if you can pull a fast one on the Lord-General of Thalmarkin!" Ra exclaimed. When he looked again at his opponent, the old man was staring at him with a toothy grin, yellowed teeth further accentuating his age. "Oh such high praise! Lord-General I am merely an scholar of fate itself, the growing and withering of the world of men, the rise and fall of empires, and the people who make those things happen, they are what I study. I simply enjoy games in my spare time." As the old man spoke, Ra observed the board, looking for anything he could do to win. Nothing came. But.... as he looked, a strategy came to him and he placed his next piece as the matched entered its endgame. "And how would you rank my performance so far on the scale of things you know, old scholar? Forgive me at least a little vanity...tell me honestly." Ra asked, drawing the old man's attention as Ra placed yet another piece on the board. 'good...' "Oh but you have only led for such a short time! What are weeks and months and years to the great game? Things have been dire, but these events have been no invasion. We shall see if the Lord-General commands to victory when-" Baleygr cut off shortly as he looked down at the board and saw where Ra had put his last piece. Anyone familiar with Go could see immediately that the board was now set - with no territory left to gain, and with both players controlling the same amount of territory. A complete, even draw. Ra laughed at the mans realization, "Ah but there you are, Baleygr! Sometimes you can't win! Sometimes its just enough to keep the other poor sap from winning!" Baleygr returned the laugh as the pair gathered the game pieces and shook hands. The night had long since settled and the scholar looked away toward the mountains, "Well played indeed, keeping the opponent from winning, indeed...Perhaps Thalmarkin has tricks in it yet...but now I must set off toward the Roof of the World. Time waits for no one, as there is much yet to do..." Ra looked back toward the village and spoke, "Come now, it is dangerous alone, come back and travel with my soldiers, they will keep you sa-" as Ra looked back the old man had already walked (ran?) a considerable distance, and the light of the lantern began to dim as Baleygr made away into the mountains. And the old man reached out, and plucked out another star from the sky, the polished stone as white as purest snow in his hand. Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
Roleplay from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods The Folly of Man, Part 1 It had been a busy day for Ra and he settled into the large bed in his new estate, fire burning warmly against the cold of the Northern spring. He had travelled quickly back to Pomatim to take care a few lingering clerical issues while the army finished the takeover of Winifael. The reconquest was nearly complete, and Ra figured he had just about earned himself a good break. In truth, he had come back to see to more than just damnable paperwork. His experience on the road to Jedinchel a few weeks before, and before that with the priest in Vore had rattled him somewhat. Now Ra had never really considered the Gods all that much. Oh he knew that Gods existed, he had just never really considered they would play a big part in his life. This was Beluaterra, and most folks who spent their days calling out to some God for salvation died of starvation or were dinner for some ghoulie. But apparently the Gods had decided to bother him, or so it seemed. Weird shat tended to happen around him these days, much more so than in his past life...and so Ra figured this was some kind of cosmic debt collection by the Pricks that Be. Oh well, he had their number. Oh yes. If there was one thing the Gods liked more than bothering folks, it was motherfraking Temples. So Ra had returned to Pomatim to commission a new temple, spending money out his own coffers to see to the construction. Apparently there would need to be a priest there to make it any bigger, but Ra had made sure that the small temple was well stocked and well furnished. He had commissioned intricate murals of each of the Gods, and a handsome portrait of himself to be hung near the front of the church, as the sponsor. He knew that this undeniable act of piety would certainly get the Gods off his ass for a while. And so Ra drifted to sleep, satisfied that he had done a good day's work, knowing the small temple would be ready in just a few weeks, and tax day was only a few days away... Ra was standing in the new temple, resplendent in color and bright against the drab Northern surrounding. It was not a large building, not yet, but soon Ra would see it expanded to suit his ambitions. The place was uncharacteristically quiet, and there was not a soul in sight. This did not bother Ra too much, and so he wandered from mural to mural, appreciating the artistry that only zealotry could create. He particularly enjoyed the fact that each of the Gods was portrayed naked, in stunning detail, resplendent in their beauty. It was as he stared at the mural of the Ice Queen, sat in a regal pose in a grand throne of ice, that he finally heard a voice. It cut through the air and through him like a winter's gale on the sea and Ra's who body shivered. "In truth We find it a poor likeness, to much in the flesh of Man, but so it is that Man can only accept the Gods if the Gods are in their image..." Ra turned to see a woman entering the temple, a chill breeze filling the room as the doors closed behind her, shut by forces unknown. The woman walked in a regal way, her head tilted slightly upwards so that she always looked down on whoever she viewed. She long, flowing dress of glistening silk, as white as the freshet snow on the tallest peak of Jedinchel. Around her neck and head was an intricate veil of gossamer threads, so intertwined that it made it hard to pick out the woman's features, only revealing the faintest hint of her obvious beauty. It was as if the woman had been chiseled from stone, a statue come to life, Ra thought... He moved forward and bowed with his signature smile and said, "Milady I am General Ra Endymi-," the woman cut him off with words commanding that seemingly took the breath from his mouth, "You are Ra Endymion, captain of a ship of men, killer of men, liar, cheater, and fraud. You are General, leader, and Lord. We know well who you are, and that you are not where you belong." The words sent Ra reeling, though he dare not move. Who was this woman, that she knew so much, his secret? He had long since paid a substantial amount of money to falsify records, pay off scribes and bureaucrats, only to have them fired or transferred to other regions. He had even burned down the record house that had told of his previous life...Was this woman someone from his past...surely he would recognize someone of such beauty. Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
Roleplay from Ra Endymion Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods The Folly of Man, Part 2 Ra did as he always did in times when someone got the drop on him - look for a point of egress. Unfortunately, the small temple only had one exit, and the woman was between he and it. He had a vague notion, call it a hunch, that attempting to go through the woman would end poorly for him. So Ra tilted his head and gave a quizzical look, opting instead for a strategy of obfuscation, "You have me at a loss madam, you seem to know so much about me, care to tell me who you are, and how you got to know so much about me?" The woman looked at -through- him as a chill ran down his spine, "My sister believes that there is strength in Man, that they can overcome Our children and might claim dominion over creation. She claims they fight and study, learn and inspire. Yet this one believes there is strength in words and lies...Our children do not lie. This one lies in all he does. Further he lies to himself, believing that there is strength in his lies. That they can overcome the undeniable truth of Fate...What folly is this, Ra Endymion?" Despite his discomfort, Ra was compelled to speak up in his defense, something seemingly beyond his own will giving his mouth voice once more, "Damn right there is strength in what I've done. I was raised on the streets of Sandefur, Madam, and everything I have I have worked for. Life sure as shat didn't hand me a damn thing, so yeah, I reached out and took it! You call that fate!? Did fate say that I should be a damn sailor, struggling in my life forever until some famine killed me? Or should I have been a pirate forever, until some sword or arrow put me down. No, I saw my chance and I took it, I carved my own path! ME!" There was a change in the room, almost like it dropped in temperature as Ra's breath appeared before him as he slowly exhaled. There was a breeze, seemingly from nowhere that caused the torches to flicker as a sound like breaking ice could be heard all around him...it seemed almost like...a laugh? "The commoner who would be more. In your ignorance you do not even understand the full breadth of your arrogance. It is the folly of Man to struggle against the silk threads of fate that bind them to the world. Kingdoms rise and fall, heroes are celebrated and are forgotten, all things in their season. Spring to Summer, Summer to Fall, and always Fall to Winter...My brother takes delight at the Ra's struggle. We wonder how long the Ra believes he can continue his folly..." The woman walked forward until she was nearly beside Ra, looking up at the mural on the wall. Ra dare not move as the woman left his vision, though he could still sense her beside him, the cold radiating around and into him. "You tell your 'brother' that Ra Endymion isn't out of tricks, in fact, I'm in my prime! Nothing that's been sent has broken me yet, no monster or undead or man or misfortune. You think some cold will scare me? Lady, it'll take more than some parlour tricks to get to me!" Ra gathered his will and turned to face the Woman in White, only to find the figure had disappeared as he looked around... Ra awoke with a start, the room cold as the last embers of his fire had died hours ago. The first rays of sun were just beginning to come up as his breath fogged in front of him with the signature cold of the North. In his mind, he felt the last tendrils of a dream beginning to slip away from him as he stirred, a final warning and promise as he drank some cold water to banish the fog of sleep, "Then struggle and lie, Ra Endymion. My Siblings shall be watching with great interest, to see how far your castle of cards can go...Shall it stand tall or fall like rain? Shall you tear away the threads of fate? Or does even that bind you? Surely as winter comes we shall know..." "Surely as winter comes we shall know..." Ra Endymion Hwitt (General of Thalmarkin, Knight of Sandefur)
The Quest
Letter from Jacinda the Driven Message sent to Everyone in Argyrian Academy Scholars and such, I have found another Dragon's Tear, have four of them now, which gets us closer to the goal. Do we have any others at the moment, or have we not recovered from the explosions in Keffa yet? Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)
The Sunken Kingdom
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods I found a ring last year at the tournament with the same inscription. I wonder the connection. Perhaps the Dread Necromancer of the Sunken Kingdom is seeking these trinkets? Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Anyte Luitolf Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Are you sure that wasn't a lost engagement ring of his, Senex? You did mention that he was looking to get married. Anyte Luitolf (Lady Anyte Luitolf, Duchess of The Bathory, Princeps Umbrarum of The Old Gods)
Letter from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods I wonder which realm it is referring to. I believe only one realm sunk on this continent? However, realms of Atamara and Far East are all under the great ocean now. Who knows what we are dealing with here. Vankocuf Felsenbach (Knight of Tepmona, Vanquisher of The Old Gods)
Letter from Alice Schwarzherzig Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods My money would be on the Kingdom of Alluran. Alice Schwarzherzig (Hierophant of Irondale)
Letter Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods The Sunken Kingdom...now that sounds familiar now that I come to think about it. I have spent much of my life sailing the seas, and I have seen much that would turn the soul of a weak person. Far in the south of Beluaterra, where no human kingdom now sits, on the south shore of the tip of the continent, there is, or was, a city. I do not know what caused it to swallowed by the sea, but I can tell you that most sailors, even seasoned crews, avoid the area. But I went there once, oh yes, seeking adventure. You can just see the spires of the tallest towers rising out of the depths. I sailed there during the day and through the crystal water you could make out the city below you, just as if you were a bird flying above it. There were no fish there, no great creatures like sharks or whales, it was as if the sea life avoided it just like we do. But that did not deter us, so blinded by the thought of glory and adventure were we. We anchored the ship above that tall spire and sent down divers to comb the depths of the structures. These were brave men, accustomed to diving in dangerous places for pearls and salvage...eight went down that day, and only one ever came back up. It was half an hour before he came up too, and he was half mad when we brought him aboard. He claimed that inside that spire...there was air trapped and one could walk and breath. He said the divers made their way down through the tower and found all sorts of things, relics of a past age... That was until, he claimed, they were set upon by the dead, who killed all but him. He claimed he ran for his life, with the dead coming from every crack and crevice, the drowned men and women coming to protect their tomb... At the time we just thought him mad from lack of air and set him to sleep with a bottle of whiskey. The oddest thing came later...that night, the watchman claimed he saw the man on the deck of the ship, and he simply walked off the side of the vessel. An alarm was raised, but we found no sign. The man had not said a word... After that, we raised anchor and high tailed it out of there. If that city is you Sunken Kingdom, you’d have to be a fool to return there...
Letter Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods
Vankocuf's Tale
Letter from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Priestess Nerta Unti, What is this Old Guys religion about? Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Vankocuf Felsenbach Greetings Vankocuf, I had just been sharing information about this with another form the Daishi faith. Here is what I told them: The Followers strive to display the excellence of the human spirit in all they do. We call for unity among humanity in the face of the monsters, and encourage each Follower to find their own path to enlightenment. This personal character has created a wealth of myths, lore and practices which I invite you to consider at your leisure, but I could certainly explain one or two that catch your eye. The Old Gods themselves are tied intimately to the land of Beluaterra and each Follower tends to be drawn to the one that fits their personal situation. Those inclined to strength of arm will call to the Wolf Lord. While the quick of wit turn to the Mist Walker. The clandestine look to the Masked One. The thoughtful and the dreamers are touched by the Ice Queen. Though it must be said that the Dark Mistress is by far the most popular as she consistently offers solace and aid to humanity. Above all we seek to claim Beluaterra for humanity. I encourage you to read over some of the old writings as they may explain more, but either way I'm happy to field any question you may have. Yours, Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Can I choose one of the gods as my patron? Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Vankocuf Felsenbach You certainly can. The faith is quite personal and each Follower tends to be drawn to the God that fits their personal situation. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Warriors! Who is yet in need of financial aid? Mielba Cordenata (Knight of Agyr)
Letter from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver THIS MAN! Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr “THIS MAN!” Mielba laughed and began writing. “Very well, Sir Vankocuf. I have sent you 150 gold, enough to cover your expenses and enough to buy your membership in the First Bank of Agyr where I have deposited an extra sum, if you need. I am impressed by your fervour and courage. Therefore, I hope you consider membership with The Academy and The Old Gods- if you are not already involved- so you can find a greater support network and resources to sustain your valiant efforts. This is but a recommendation, however. Should you be disinclined, fear not a retraction of my support. You fight the Evil; therefore our goals align. May the Gods smile upon your works. Mielba Cordenata (Priestess of The Old Gods, Dame of Agyr.)
Roleplay from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Along with 150 gold, I found a letter from Mielba Cordenata. The Old Gods. I was once interested in them while talking to Nerta Unti. When I searched books about the gods, too many of them were brought up. I don't have time to read all these! I need to go smash more monster skulls! Maybe I will write a letter to Mielba explaining all this. Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Arms crossed and leaning against the entrance to Vankocuf's pavilion, the cloaked woman gestures with her chin, "No time for reading but lots of time for killing. Sounds like someone who gets things done. Come on, let's see what you can do." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Let's see how good a servant of the old gods is!" Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Chuckling warmly the woman waves Vankocuf toward the yard, "Keep it friendly lad or I'll have to be gruesome and no one wants that." The twittering melody of songs birds sees Nerta cock her head and idly wonder where Wren was right now. How life takes strange turns. "So you're not one for reading but you do enjoy the killing. Sounds like Vanquisher material to me." Nerta rubs at the wooden grain of her spear and pulls back her hood, "Though I heard you got snagged by the armies of the Dread Necromancer. Glad you escaped before you got to Sunken Alluran." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Training Match message to everyone in Fronepu - 9 minutes ago Vankocuf Felsenbach, Knight of Tepmona meets his challenger Nerta Unti, Dame of Agyr, Priestess of The Old Gods for the agreed training match. Nerta has decided to use the 'trick moves' strategy while Vankocuf has chosen the 'overrun' strategy, giving Nerta the advantage. After a series of blows, Nerta wins the training match.
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr A shout and a slash puts Nerta on the back foot, leaving her to ward off the web of steel Vankocuf wove around her. Sparks shower as the edge of her spear meets his sword and though she deflects as best she could, the man's hammer blows left her arms numb. "Well someone's energetic." Adjusting her grip on the spear, Nerta's cloak billows as she drops to the dirt and spins behind Vankocuf. The stout wood swings around to crack the man across the back of his knees even as she pounces atop his back sending him pitching forward. Standing atop the prone man she thumps him in the small of his back with the blunt end of the spear, "That's your idea of friendly is it? I'll admit lad, you're strong and you're quick." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Vankocuf lost swiftly. Nerta read him like a book. Vankocuf felt naked and brutalized before Nerta's spear. "I must admit... fighting mindless beasts and fighting a well trained person are quite different. Apparently being strong and quick won't be enough to best you. I will need to train more." Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr "Well I've been mostly fighting smaller groups. Sure. I will sign up." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Vankocuf Felsenbach Message sent to Nerta the Weaver "Alright, come on and I'll get you signed up at the temple." Vankocuf Felsenbach (Marshal of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Stepping off of Vankoculf, Nerta offers him some help to his feet. "Sounds like you've not fought monsters of the warbands yet. Looks like we'll need to do a lot of training. Will you sign up?" Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Soren's Tale
Letter from Soren Navaar Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Miss Nerta, I got a rather interesting letter from the former Grandmistress of Obia'Syela. The contents are not important, but for some reason I thought I should pester you instead. I'm sure you'll be irritated for wasting your time with a letter without a real purpose. I'm in Tepmona, making my way to Rengo and then Gor Ault. Perhaps our paths will cross again, and if they do, I'll buy you a drink. That has to be better than physical labor and letters, no? Sincerely, Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Don't get me started on letters. The Senex is has me trapped in a scribes office for hours while he rattles off useless nonsense. Sounds like you've got your own share of nonsense though, which makes you think of me? Okay, sure. Well the scribe had a lot more to write and I little to say, but sure we can meet. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Soren Navaar Message sent to Nerta the Weaver Miss Nerta, I look forward to seeing you again. I've got plenty to drink in Gor Ault the way we are giving it away, but I will be available at your leisure. Yes, troublesome nobles make me think of you. You have a straightforward way that I don't feel as though I have to tip toe around to make you happy. It's comfortable. Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Parties. Nerta attempts to weave between a pair of partying plebeians with a bounty across her shoulder only for the shove of a third bouncing her off another’s impressive gut. He must be the grain merchant of this little hamlet, only they eat so well. He had the sense not to take liberties at least, and after a few moments untangling themselves the woman presses through the throng that had grown around the offered ale. Normally Nerta would have given the party a wide berth, but she recognized the banner hanging over everything and so shoves her way up to Soren’s pavilion. Soren was seated in the midst of his regiment as they handed out drinks like arrows at a battle. It was all for the good of the realm but it was loud and somehow the drunks were always stumbling past his guards…. As another figure darkens his writing desk the knight very nearly snaps his pen in irritation, “I don’t care how many lessons your cousin gave you you may not have my lute” “Going well is it?” comes Nerta’s wry response. The man’s smile brightens his stormy gaze, “Nerta. I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, I was actually just writing to you again…” “Another letter?” Casting a meaningful glance around the crowd Nerta snorts, “I know you’ve got better things to do than write.” Soren looked past Nerta to the crowd and shook his head. “Drinking alone while everyone parties is hardly better. At least I feel somewhat productive if I’m interrupting someone else,” nearly dry letter in hand he smiles at his guest. Nerta quirks a brow and moves to pluck the page from Soren’s grip with a dry tone, “So you measure productivity in causing problems. How Patrician of you.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Dancing the page back, Soren counters, “A bit silly yes, but not any more than you reaching for this letter, probably to tear it up.” Remembering that she had him write letters the last time she was with him drew out a brief hesitation. “I apologize if these are a burden,” She came out here so quickly though… “but I can tell you the bulk of the contents later, but it closes with the offer of a drink.” Gesturing to the casks of ale with a rueful smile he adds, “It won’t be a quiet drink, that’s for sure but I hope the company makes up for the crowd.” Holding her ground as Soren rises from the table, the pair stand close as a faint smile curls the corner of her mouth. “First burdensome letters and then putting me to work?” She idly brushes some dust from one arm, “Someone is trying to be productive today.” Before Soren could respond an obviously well fed innkeeper, carrying a second cask, waddles up. Shifting his hold on the cask, he manages to shove his gut against the table, and into the back of Soren’s legs. As the lord lurches forward into his guest, he could feel rough hands hold him steady. A lot of them. It was... strange, but he still managed a smile even inches from her. “My hero!” he declared, knowing it might get him a face full of dirt as he steadies himself with hands on her shoulders. Nerta rolls her eyes as she untangles her grip from his chest. Breath steaming in the winter air she snaps out, “Correction, very productive.” For just a moment, they were close enough that their breath mingled in the air. “All this, and we haven’t even started drinking yet,” he added. Once he was back on his feet, Soren rubs his neck and lets out a nervous laugh, “Sorry, Nerta.” Adjusting her cloak with a sniff, Soren can see Nerta pause and then deflate with a sigh, “It’s fine Soren, it’s….” Though she seemed inclined to say more an irritated voice cuts in, “Lord? I said where do you want this?” Both of them turn to the large innkeeper, unspoken words lost in the crowd. “Just put it over there with the others,” the resignation in his tone suggested this was not the first time today. Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Trouble. The faint jingle of a slim coin purse in Nerta's hand causes the woman to raise a brow. With some grumbling the vermin-like mayor begins counting out extra coins, one at a time. It did little to improve the woman's mood, as can be said for the heavy arm draped across her shoulders. "Get off," punctuating her clipped words with jab at Soren's midsection she adds, "You're lucky the old man warned me or I'd have handled you like the drunks." “I’m sure I deserve it for something,” he commented with a wry grin, rubbing his stomach where she jabbed. “Besides, I like a woman who can take care of herself. Damsels in distress are - how did the fashionable nobles put it in Nothoi? - so last season.” "Last season was winter, I didn't need saving then either." Though she did the winter before, not that she'd admit it to the annoying bard. His persistence means she has to shake him off, "I don't get you." Glaring at the mayor trying to short-change her, Nerta taps the purse with her thumb. "There are abyss spawned necromancers everywhere, and your answer is to party." Did she mean him, or Ar Agyr? Soren thought for a long moment. “It wouldn’t be the first time a party had driven back foul creatures from humanity’s lands,” he said, referring to an old invasion story. “However, I think it’s more about lifting spirits. Your home’s been ravaged by the dead for weeks. Months. Some army with their nobles come in, they have weapons, and drive the beasts out. The first signs of hope in what feels like ages. Maybe it seems silly, but it’s the first relief they’ve had in some time now.” “As for inviting you for a drink…” he trailed off, deciding to answer the question twice. He offered her his mysterious letter from before. “It’s because I’m comfortable around you. At least that’s the gist of the letter. No power struggles, no connections, no games. Just Nerta,” he smiled in her direction again. Her expression inscrutable, Nerta works at her jaw for a few heartbeats before narrowing her eyes. "If you can't defend what's yours, it's not really yours." To make the point as bluntly as possible she snatches the stingy mayor's coin purse from his hand and, staring the man down, fishes out her fee before tossing the rest to the dirt. Rounding on Soren she adjusts her hood, "You're a patrician; all you do is play games. So what you're telling me is that you think I'm not much of a player. That I'll be an easy target." She steps closer, her voice frosty enough to return winter, "I told you last time; if you don't think I'm terrifying that's your lack of imagination." Soren paused, leaned just a little closer and shrugged. "Sometimes a rock is a rock." Stepping back to give her some room, and not wanting another jab to the gut, he kept smiling. "I don't feel like playing games. At least not those kind. It's too much work. You tell me I'm judging you as an easy target, but aren't you judging me as some kind of predator?" "I am some kind of predator. Just a different sort than you." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Soren shook his head at the misunderstanding. It’s as if she expects poor treatment, and sees an attack where there is none. Nerta clenches a hand as blood sings in her ear. How she wanted to show him… it'd be so easy. Just let a Graft slip. Be a bit grotesque. Ruin his precious party... A small part of her could tell she was more than just furious. The tightness in her chest, the way a tremor danced along her spine. He was just… too much. He said he knew, that he understood. Then he calls her a predator…. It was like the little boy used as bait last winter all over again; he was just going to scream. Crystal Maiden damned patricians… With a sigh Soren reaches up into the crate and pulls out one brown bottle. Some kind of local ale, probably. Instead of fussing over the furious priestess, he slips the crate from his shoulders and works the bottle loose. He knew Nerta was prickly, but at this point she was looking for a fight where there were none. Without ceremony he took a long swig before considering the bottle with a contemplative sigh. Wow, that was… pretty bland. "It's ale. Just… ale," he repeated, as emotionless as the drink was plain. Pressing the open bottle into her hand he fishes out another while she fumes. Smooth glass, cool against her skin, Nerta scoffs; but doesn’t pitch the drink at his head. So... progress? At least a tiny amount, though the heavily distorted reflection of the specter in the bottle seems about as exasperated as Soren and had given up on trying to calm the woman a while ago. “You still came out here to see me,” he muttered. “I know I won’t change your mind overnight, but I hope someday you’ll at least-”At least what? He wondered, hesitating on the words. He hid the scramble in his brain, hoping it would be passed off as a short pause. “At least count me as an ally, and who knows, maybe someday a friend. You can hate and mistrust all the other Patricians in the world, but I refuse to let someone so buried in Melite history be a stranger.” Oh. Nerta can feel her temper cool, draining away like so much ale from the casks of that party. This was about the past. About the Old Man. Like everything else. Waving an empty hand she glances around distractedly, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me to talk to the ghost. He’ll rarely shut up as it is. Get a mirror, a bucket of water or something and you two can talk while I rest.” “You; are not wrong on that…” Taking a sip from the second bottle, he grimaced. People will drink anything they can ferment, won’t they? Ale wasn’t working, if this qualified as ale rather than someone’s joke, and it seemed she refused to listen to subtlety. The corners of his mouth twitched at the ghost of a smile. Her directness was one thing he liked about her, not that she understood when he tried to say as much. “But here’s the thing Nerta, I want to know more about you. Not Nerta the foederati. Not Nerta the priestess. Not Nerta the haunted, the hero, or the wanderer. Just, Nerta the person.” Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr That rueful smile finally poking out, he spreads his hands, “So far I’ve learned drinks aren’t your style. So as a start; what is? What would you like to do while we get to know each other? If you’re okay with that, of course.”  Grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, Nerta turns away and crosses her arms. The all too vivid memory of ink and old women looms, but her muttering is low enough that all he can hear is, “Crystal Maiden dandy.” A free hand closes on Soren’s shirt as the untasted, bland bottle bounces behind her. Dragging the man in, they again share breaths as she works her jaw. He can watch every twitch of her eyes, her mouth as she builds to a blaze, “So we understand each other: I’m not something to study, I’m not your drinking buddy and I’m not….” The fire fades as she pushes him back, the sentence unfinished. She wasn’t, what? Soren carefully adjusts his collar and eyes the conflicted priestess. Something to be said for getting jerked around suddenly. Drifting past them the old ghost shakes his head but refrains from making a sound. He knew his surly companion well and any suggestion he would make would only rile her up more. These two are worlds apart yet there were bridges of a sort, if they could just spit it out....  A low rumble bubbles out of Nerta to fill the comparative silence, “I… I’m going to hit you now. Because we’re going to fight. We’re going to fight because you want to know me and I’m not… I’m not like you.” Their eyes meet and he can see the calm shimmering back at him. Every roiling mix of emotion and memory had crystalized like a fine snowy powder. “So can you handle that or are you going back to your party?”  Nerta… knew what she was, and if he was going to stick around it’s time he learned it too. A playful grin spread out, as Soren tensed up, wondering if this was inevitable. “I think what you meant was you’re going to try to hit me,” he teased as he shifted his legs into a loose stance. It was a test, and he would pass it. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Cute, real cute. He wasn't taking this seriously... Nerta could feel the heat of anger simmer her blood, but it was only a distant echo. Everything was much clearer. He wanted to get to know her after all... Her eyes not leaving his, she lets one hand snap out to strike him in the stomach. It was a sharp jab, more surprising than anything. After all she wasn't trying to hurt him too much, yet. Flinching at the warning strike, Soren lets out a grunt as Nerta presses closer and brings her other hand around for a heavier blow. The man had expected a short dance, where the pair played a mind game, shifting their positions ever so slightly, each trying to stump the other while securing the upper hand. Where they’d circle each other and smile, after all he prided himself on adaptability, learning multiple weapons and styles. But apparently Nerta hadn't meant they were going to duel. She meant they were going to fight. Pivoting backwards on one foot, he brought an arm up to block what would have been a haymaker. The force of the impact vibrating through his arm he winces. Well I guess if she wanted to hit him, he would gladly be defensive for the time being. For a fool, his responses did surprise her at times. Like now, he moved quickly. He must have practiced unarmed before.... Pushing off of Soren's block she spins with the nipping of fabric, slides into a crouch, her extra hands giving her far more support than most in the rapid change of stance. Springing up from the ground in the next instant, Nerta moves to knock his guard wide and crack her skull against his. Soren squints through stars and staggers back from the blow, a hand pressed to his temple. Everything about her was a mix of grace and viciousness…. And she’d only used two hands so far. But all he needed was the first few exchanges - he was kidding himself even calling them that. Years of practice began to kick in as he got used to her movements and power. Giving his head a shake to clear it, Soren brings his guard up again as a hand lashes out to grab his shirt and pull him back in for another punch to the jaw. Soren finally made a move, switching to offense. When she grabbed at his shirt, he rushed in and slammed into her with his shoulder, sending her backwards. Nerta lets out a grunt as the man’s unexpected charge throws her off balance. He could feel her hands grip at his chest and shirt, working to keep her balance and for a fleeting moment Soren saw something unexpected: a smile. Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr A smile. That was enough to almost give him pause, a mistake to be certain. Mirroring the smile he swung the back of his arm towards her neck. There wouldn’t be enough momentum to hurt, but there was more leverage as he pushed himself backwards to pull them both tumbling to the ground. As soon as she released his shirt to ease the fall, Soren tumbled into a roll and got back to his feet, putting a small distance between them. As the pair gain some distance at last, Nerta doesn’t move from her semi-crouch, but as her breath steams in the spring air she curls her fingers back into fists. “Not bad, bard. But I will strike you again even if you won’t.” Soren laughed. “Haven’t gotten knocked around like that in a while. You’ll have to try harder now,” he told her, and went back on the offensive. She was almost in a crouch, and he had to force her into a standing position again to keep his advantage. He did have a size advantage on her. If he went low, she would pin him and that would be it, and she was too quick to go high normally. The thoughts came at a blur, and he had little time to act. The bard decided to change his tactics instead, and as he advanced, he went low, surprisingly low with a sweeping kick developed from his quarterstaff techniques. As Nerta moved to dodge, he grabbed at her leg to try and pull her into the dirt once again. Eyes narrow as the man charges in and as he sweeps at her legs, Nerta springs to the side. She was quick but at the feel of a hand clamping down on her ankle she lets out an odd hiss and brings the other leg around for a kick. She might not be hitting him with her extra hands but she wasn’t shy about using them for balance. Soren brought an arm up to block the kick, and pulled her ankle towards him to try and shake her balance again. The first kick deflected by his arm, the sharp tug that follows sees Nerta’s head jerks leaving the second kick to connect with his hand. With both feet caught she lets out a snort that puffs aside her hood and settles on using her hands to push off the ground with the intent to pounce on him. As Nerta rises from the ground, Soren uses the grip on her legs to twist her hips about. Straddling her thighs he smashes her on the chest only for Nerta to let out a hiss and throw up two hands to block. And another three to strike him in the gut. Looks like he’d graduated to all six arms. Yay? Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr Soren buckled into her strike and tried catching her arms, only to be struck by more fists. This had been the reason he had been so cautious in the beginning. The only benefit to his current position was that her strikes were weaker, but they would wear him down with time. As Nerta prepared her next attacks, Soren knew when to call it quits and threw himself backwards and off of the woman, hoping he could get to his feet quickly. He wasn’t going anywhere… Hands grab at the retreating man, dragging him back as Nerta sits up with a clicking chitter. As she crawls up Soren’s legs, the glistening shadows of long mandibles unfold in her open mouth. The grotesque expression distorts her voice as the firm grip pins Soren to the ground, “SSSo… kang yew h’ndle isss…?” Some instinct kicked in and shouted danger. Soren struggled in her grip, but she had more than one advantage. Is she actually going to do that? He wondered how deadly the venom was, though knowing her it was deadly. Maybe it was paralytic? Questions began racing in his head questioning his fate, while years of training settled his nerves. The conflict resulted in a single, wide-eyed word uttered, “Damn…” Sweat shining across her brow, Nerta shudders and twists her head sharply to the side, fighting back the graft mid transformation until it fades back into her usual surly expression. Retaining her perch atop Soren’s hips, she uses the edge of her cloak to wipe at her mouth and works a hand through her hair with a shiver. Soren looked up at Nerta as her hood fell back to reveal matted hair. The fight had been hard but, something told him that transformation had been… harder. There were rumors and stories, but it was another thing entirely to see a graft in person. It set his stomach rolling, but despite the shortness of breath, Soren struggled to sit up with Nerta still on top of him. Once again he was close enough for their breaths to mingle, yet the shadow of what had been set his skin crawling even as he searched her eyes for hostility. Nerta’s comments seemed to echo back into existence as cheesy words came to mind “Would you be upset if I said I liked your smile more?” Nerta’s eyes narrow for heartbeat but by the third such she treats him to exactly that; a faint curl to her lips. “No.” Pushing off of Soren’s lap, one shaking hand reaches out to grab his and help him to his feet, “I wouldn’t.” Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)