Difference between revisions of "Unti Family/Nerta/A4S2"

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{| class="infobox" style="margin: auto;" border="2" cellpadding="4"
 
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| [[File:SunkenNecromancer.png|600px]]
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| [[File:AldoMansion.png|500px]]
 
|-
 
|-
 
|}
 
|}
  
 +
{| class="infobox" style="margin: auto;" border="2" cellpadding="4"
  
−
<center>{{Message2
+
|-
−
|Width=80%
+
! Elevated
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 
|Type=Roleplay
 
|Type=Roleplay
−
|Sender=Grante Le Monte
+
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
−
|Recipients=Everyone in Lux Nova
+
|Recipients=Everyone in the Agyrian Academy
−
|Content=As his now meager unit settled down for the night, Grante sat down at his desk with a slight groan. He had suffered yet another wound while facing these horrible monstrosities and this one was taking longer to heal then the last few. There was a knock at his tent entrance, causing Grante to stiffen up and act as if he was fine. He never did like his men seeing him in a weak state. After a moment, his captain Warmund entered and upon realizing it was only his captain, Grante relaxed again, a groan of pain escaping him again.
+
|Content=Restless.
  
−
"What brings you by at such a hour? Should you not be resting as well? I know you barely fared better than me." Grante turned back to his desk to look over the last letter he received from an adventurer, who was in Grehk but had gone silent now.
+
Nerta paces in her new tent while the stiffly dressed Captain Axel sighs. His new mistress seemed far too akin to a panther before bars.  
  
−
"I only got this scratch because you have to be at the front of every battle. If I wasn't so busy defendin ya, I'd be fine." Warmund walked over and laid down an old, dusty tome on the desk, its age clear from the wear and tear it had gone through. "But I am not here to bug you about that. I found this while checking on our watches for tonight. I'm not much for reading, but thought it might be of some entertainment to you. I know you nobles like to think of yourselves as 'learned'." Both of them chuckled as Grante put the letters aside and brought the book closer for inspection.
+
"You need not worry m'lady, your soldiers shall see the creatures off with little difficulty."
  
−
"Do you even know what it is about? You cannot even make out the title of it." He gently opened it to the first page and was surprised it was in a writing he could understand. And there was the title, "Rituals of the Crystal Maiden". He chuckled, having never really dedicated himself to any religious reading. "So it seems to be some religious text here Warmund. Would you want to sit down for a bedtime story?" Warmund just shook his head as he left, wanting nothing to do with this craziness.
+
Truth be told she had little worry of that, not after the entire army had marched in on her heels. No, she was more pensive that the archers were in harms way while she was safe and sound. But she wasn't going to have that argument again.  
  
−
Being left alone, Grante started to dig into the book, finding himself quickly emerged in it. And he quickly learned who this Crystal Maiden was and that she was to blame for Nova's current situation. The necromancers, undead hordes, all of it! And at the end, it mentioned other beings, collectively known as The Old Gods. There had to be other books depicting these gods. Especially about this Dark Mistress, who showed the first men to Beluaterra who the Old Gods were. And the Wolf Lord, as it seemed he would understand Grante's drive to free humankind of the shackles that are the creatures that roam the land.
+
Besides, Bob was here and the Old Man wanted a word with him about some deed or another.
−
|Title= Decurion of Nova, Duke of Lux Centralis, Count of Elloranaal, Marshal of the Liberators
+
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 
}}</center>
 
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
  
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 |<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Aeravon Velaryon
 +
|Recipients=All nobles of Ar Agyr
 +
|Content=It looks like a new noble emerged from our ranks today, yet my lazy servant failed to properly report this. Welcome, Lady Nerta Unti!
  
−
<center>{{Message2
+
For the North,
−
|Width=80%
+
|Title=Judge of Ar Agyr, Duke of Avalon, Margrave of Fronepu
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 |<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Jacinda the Driven
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in the Agyrian Academy
 +
|Content=Found another Dragon's Tear, in the lair of a small pack of monsterkin here in the Seven Rivers.
 +
|Title=Adventurer
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Varan
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in the Agyrian Academy
 +
|Content=Undead were protecting another Dragon’s Tear in Zwering, the reanimated Grehkian general who was the final guardian put up a hellish fight. A wearying battle, but nothing a good massage and bath can’t sort out!
 +
|Title=Adventurer
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 
|Type=Roleplay
 
|Type=Roleplay
−
|Sender=Grante Le Monte
+
|Sender=Soren Navaar
−
|Recipients=Everyone in Lux Nova
+
|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
−
|Content=Having found some time to rest between the constant traveling the army had undertaken to repel the necormancers' forces, Grante sat down at his makeshift desk. Upon it sat a collection of dusty, neglected books from the libraries in Jidington. He had ordered one of his scribes to get as many books as he could on the Old Gods. There were not many kept throughout the city, and some were impossible to read due to either age or written in an odd language. But this stack would do. For now.
+
|Content=His room at the Wolf's Den Inn was small, but he rarely traveled with a lot of belongings outside of his weapons. Sitting off to one side was his bow, unstrung, next to a quiver of arrows. Beside that was his spear, and quarterstaff. Finally, his sword rested on his lap as he looked at the man before him. Soren sat face to face with a familiar figure for the first time in years. Long, once dark hair that was gray with age, pulled back and tied at the bottom, a ferocity in brown eyes that Soren knew as one of actual skill and burden, and a figure that looked like it could still fight years later. That was Felix Calanar, former Duke of Nothoi, and man he called Grandfather. Sitting in his lap were two objects wrapped in cloth. He had shown up out of the blue, and let himself into Soren's room without a word, and now, the young lord did not know what to say.
 +
 
 +
Felix began. "The Calanar network spans continents. Not one of you brothers is left un-watched, even if you don't realize it."
 +
 
 +
Soren nodded. "Does that mean?"
 +
 
 +
Felix nodded. "Locke is going to search for Cayden."
 +
 
 +
"Uncle Locke? He rarely leaves the estate anymore. Why would he go?" Soren asked, concerned more for his brothers than himself. Uncle Locke made him nervous. Of all the Calanar family he knew, it was the core family surrounding Locke that was the most nerve wracking. Every one of them seemed to have the strength and willpower of kings and queens in their own right. Nothing the Navaars could ever amount to.
 +
 
 +
Felix didn't respond. Instead he continued. "Velden is going to find Lucius, and I am here for you. It's time for your inheritances."
 +
 
 +
Soren blinked. "Inheritance?"
 +
 
 +
Instead of explaining, Felix unwrapped the first cloth item. An old set of seals, a map, and family heritage documents, proof of his bloodline, and ancient claim to countless regions that the family once thrived in throughout Beluaterra, a number of them were lands now belonging to Ar Agyr, and an old map of Beluaterra from before the blight took hold. A reminder of what daimon slayers fought for.
 +
 
 +
Soren swallowed hard, as he looked from item to item, setting many of them aside on the bed next to him. "That is... generous, grandfather, but I don't know how well those claims will hold up today." The last one was a seal for the Consul of Melhed. Taking a deep breath, he set that aside without thinking too hard on it.
 +
 
 +
"Move the sword," Felix ordered, and Soren immediately obeyed as he unwrapped the second package.
 +
 
 +
Soren paled. The sword that was revealed was a twisted piece of metal and blade. It looked like it could belong to some fantastic dictator in some fairy tale for children. It almost seemed blighted, and he hesitated to even touch it. The weapon had been worked and reforged over the years into something usable as a weapon. As Soren accepted the sword, he looked between it and his grandfather.
 +
 
 +
"A daimon's sword. Taken from one of the creatures during the fall of Heen by your great grandfather. He would use their own weapons against them. As the next in line of our family to serve Beluaterra, this weapon is yours should you wish to use it."
 +
 
 +
Soren, ever calm in most situations, looked down at the weapon and shuddered. "It is... an honor. I suppose."
 +
 
 +
Felix laughed. "It's no honor. It's a burden."
 +
 
 +
"Why now?" Soren asked, almost naively.
 +
 
 +
Felix, still chuckling, almost seemed like a daimon in his own right. "You're mostly free of the Blue Tower these days. Welcome to the family."
 +
|Title=Count of Seven Rivers
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Ryosuke Guile
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
 +
|Content=A glorious day for all humanity! Well done Duke Remus!
 +
 
 +
The timely arrival of Duchess Scarlett was well within the Masked One’s knowledge, and together you beat some rather impressive odds. Gethsemene stands as a shining beacon in these troubling times!
 +
 
 +
Vox Noctis,
 +
|Title=Hierophant of Irondale
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=The Old Man wonders what's going on in the deep south. With Ar Agyr busy tending local matters there's little talk of another crusade.
 +
 
 +
Anyone have any news?
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Soren Navaar
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
 +
|Content=I'm on my way to Lloringel to assist.
 +
 
 +
Might I suggest we change the melee and ranged formations?
 +
 
 +
With melee in box, it means they will last longer, and with the ranges forces in a line, they will do more damage.
 +
|Title=Count of Seven Rivers
 +
}}</center>
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=Not a bad idea Soren, but I'm to ask: Know any good songs to go with the March?
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
  
−
Grante jolted upright from the book he was currently buried in. His captain had come in unannounced as usual, and caught him by surprise.
+
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Soren Navaar
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
 +
|Content=A song Priestess?
  
−
"Warmund, what brings you at this hour? You know that I've sent this time aside to study these old texts. They could hold a secret that we can use to finally start winning this war!" Grante turned back to the book, knowing there was not much reason for the captain to be here for now. The camp was set, watches set, supplies in order. He had personally seen to it all. And having only 11 men also made it much easier.
+
I might have one up my sleeves here. An old war song. The music is a bit rough
  
−
"Well, sir, a peasant had decided to approach the camp. He said he had heard rumors you were seeking information on the Old Gods and claims to be a practicing follower. I had the men take him to one of the many spare tents we have to wait your response." Grante pulled himself out of the book again as his captain tried to catch a few glimpses of it. He had grown curious as to what could hold Grante's attention so much. Noticing this, Grante grinned and pointed to a separate, small stack in a corner.
+
--------------
  
−
"Those I have already read, if you are interested in learning more yourself. It is very interesting. Seems that the monsters were created by these Old Gods to rule these lands. And the undead are the workings of the Crystal Maiden. This religion claims that the true way to control this land is to prove ourselves worthier than these beasts. Which we are. While I still want to read more, this might be the path we, and Nova, must set ourselves on to be able to live here in peace." Grante marked his spot in the book and closed it gently before putting it back on the stack.
+
As the drum beat started on that day, heard a hundred miles back
 +
A hundred thousand arrows fly, and the blue sky turned to black.
 +
Yes, that foul hail, you see, it lasted all day long
 +
And the army marched, banners high, burning hearts still strong.
  
−
"I will meet with this commoner tomorrow night. It is already late and I am sure both of us need some rest. But perhaps he can tell us if there are any actual temples or priests for this religion. While these books are useful, I am sure there is even more to learn than they can provide." Grante made his way to the rickety bed that was setup as Warmund bowed and exited the tent.
+
The battle, yes, the battle had begun.
 +
The battle, yes, the battle, nowhere to run.
  
−
"Perhaps there is hope yet for Nova. An unexpected path for sure, but possibly the strongest!" Grante muttered as he laid his head to rest. While this was going to help long-term, he knew that there was a lot of fighting to be had in the days to come.
+
As the first blows struck, cries called out, judgement for their sins
−
|Title= Decurion of Nova, Duke of Lux Centralis, Count of Elloranaal, Marshal of the Liberators
+
The warriors march, pure of cause, a thousand smaller wins.
 +
As combatants fall, final breaths, the field becomes a flood
 +
With wolven howls, our heroes push, through sweat, tears, and blood.
 +
 
 +
The battle, yes, the battle on the rise.
 +
The battle, yes, the battle now, hear our howling cries.
 +
 
 +
The last foe falls, beneath cold steel, despite the fearsome clash
 +
Driven from the field they say, powerful as thunders crash.
 +
Heroes cheer, victory, still they mourn the cost
 +
A toast held high, a drink or two, for the ones they lost.
 +
 
 +
The battle, yes, the battle stopped at last.
 +
This pack of wolves must move on, a tale for their past.
 +
|Title=Count of Seven Rivers
 
}}</center>
 
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
 +
|Content=Soren,
 +
The Old Man will not stop singing this now. I hope you're happy. He just mutters about Gor Ault and some ancient war.
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=A few more legends have been recorded in the [[Old Gods/Legends|library.]] Some are more, colourful than others...
 +
 +
Anyone know of any other local stories?
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
  
  
−
<center>{{Message2
+
|-
−
|Width=80%
+
|<center>{{Message2
−
|Type=Roleplay
+
|Width=100%
−
|Sender=Grante Le Monte
+
|Type=Letter
−
|Recipients=Everyone in Lux Nova
+
|Sender=Gadwin Ardent
−
|Content=Sitting down in a plush armchair, Grante let out a sigh of comfort. There had been so much rushing around from battle to battle with the necromancers' forces, this was the first chance he has had to just relax comfortably for once. While this room was nothing compared to his estates in Ellornaal or his duchal seat in Jidington, the upscale tavern room still fit the bill for what was needed. He had taken note of the bath in the other room that he intended to relax in later. But first, there was some business to attend to. He could not exactly keep feeding this commoner forever, at least not without something being given back.
+
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=I came to this land determined to learn of the Old Gods. I have read some of the materials in the library but I would very interested to hear the thoughts, teachings and opinions of those who have followed the Old Gods. Is there one or more among you who would be willing to guide me in these early times of discovery?
 +
|Title=Knight of Daisha
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=The Old Man says yes, though I'm more qualified to teach you about hunting.
 +
 
 +
What brought you here, another with visions from the Gods or just a grudge against the Children?
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Gadwin Ardent
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=I have had no visions. I am no prophet or seer. I also hold no grudges as of note, against the children or anyone else.
 +
 
 +
I simply heard rumors of Old gods being found again here in Beluaterra. Small bits and seemingly inaccurate in many cases. But what I did hear stirred me. I had to learn more. And so here I am.
 +
|Title=Knight of Daisha
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=You must be new or have led a charmed life Gadwin. Hope it continues.
 +
 
 +
Either way, the Old Gods are the masters of this land and the monsters their Children. We are in contest with the beasts to control this land, a contest we seem to be losing given all the wild lands. Our goal is simple, to win the love of the Gods and vanquish the monsters through the strength of the human spirit.
 +
 
 +
What had you heard, something different than this?
 +
 
 +
Actually we've lost most of our Augurs lately. Wonder what they know that we don't...
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|<center>{{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Quincy Stormreaver
 +
|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
 +
|Content=Fellow faithful,
 +
 
 +
I'm pleased to announce the opening of the temple in Aesh.  I invite a priest to preach in my lands at their earliest convenience and and elder to enlarge the temple.  Please remove the Dashi influence from my lands as soon as possible.
 +
 
 +
Iron Within and Sexy Velvet Without,
 +
|Title=Keeper of Law of Irondale
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Jacinda the Driven
 +
|Recipients=Personal letter to Nerta
 +
|Content=Old friend,
 +
 
 +
I seem to find more coin passing through my hands these days than I have any use for.  The Academy in Agyr is grand and can serve as a good home for those of us who still wander, and my gear is as good as any lady's. But the Wolf Lord still has paid no mind to my tries to get his attention, and I think that my little shrines are swept away by the winds and rain soon enough.
 +
 
 +
If...If I supplied the gold, could you...Bless the shrines I put up?  See to it that the folk in those regions tend them?  I keep thinking if there is enough to get his attention, perhaps...Maybe it'll be enough.
 +
 
 +
(OOC Jacinda keeps ending up with truly ridiculous amounts of cash from scrolls and all, and I've been RPing her setting up little shrines when she kills undead champions or monster champions, thought it would be fun to have those turned into actual game mechanical shrines, and that would help the religion too.)
 +
|Title=Adventurer
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients= to Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
 +
|Content=Jacinda,
 +
 
 +
Did you get Wren to write this? It's been too long. I can always find somewhere to spend the coin though it'll take time to get things set up, always time. You should come by so I don't have to get some scribe to write this all for me and we can talk.
 +
 
 +
Heck, some of the Patricians are giving me, suggestions that I play at being a Tribune...
 +
 
 +
Your friend,
 +
 
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
 +
|Content=Your Majesty,
 +
 
 +
Given my background and origin, I was thinking of reaching out to the adventurers of the realm in the style of the Tribunes of old. Have you any thoughts on the matter?
 +
 
 +
Yours,
 +
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
 +
|Recipients=Nerta
 +
|Content=Priestess Nerta,
 +
 
 +
I often speak to our adventurers myself so please feel free to follow suit. We're blessed with some patriotic commoners and I'm as eager to support their efforts as they are to support ours.
 +
|Title= Queen of Ar Agyr
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
 +
 
 +
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Jacinda the Driven
 +
|Recipients=Personal letter to Nerta
 +
|Content=Nerta,
  
−
Grante went about putting the books he had accumulated on the large desk as the door opened, his captain Warmund walking in briskly with a shocked looking peasant behind him. Seeing said commoner looked rather meagre, Grante motioned with a hand for Warmund to leave, as there was likely no threat here.
+
Found some good scribes with the guild who can get it all down for me, though I suspect they make it more formal than what I am saying. And aye, I'll come visit, where might I find you these days?
 +
|Title=Adventurer
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
  
−
"If you do not mind, I'd like to stay Sir. I have started to grow interested myself. This faith, it seems to truly understand us men of war." Before Grante finished noding, Warmund had made himself comfortable in a chair off in the corner. Being that there were only two now, Grante sat himself back down in the armchair near the desk.
+
|-
 +
|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
 +
|Width=100%
 +
|Type=Letter
 +
|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
 +
|Recipients=Message to all adventurers of Ar Agyr
 +
|Content=Many of you know me, but some of you don't.  
  
−
"So, you claim to know a bit about the Old Gods. Well, what is it that a peasant can tell me that I have not already learned from these books?" Grante waved his hand at the desk as the peasant snapped out of his shock at the mention of the Old Gods.
+
I used to be an adventurer like you... but some things have changed and now I get to linger with the patricians.
  
−
"W..e..lll sir, it seems the..se are rather old books. H..hav..e you found anything on temples or those who actually follow th..e..m?" The peasant began looking over the books, though careful not to touch them until Grante nodded in approval.
+
Around these parts there used to be something called a Tribune who's duty it was to talk with the plebeians and adventurers, to make sure their voices were heard on the old Senate. I don't have a mandate from the crown, and the old laws aren't in use right now but... if you all want a Tribune I'll speak with you and keep you informed with events.
  
−
"Go ahead, but be gentle. They are old and I plan to have them transcribed when back in Jidington. You do not want my kindness to you to vanish in an instant." Grante then rubbed his chin in thought. "But you are right. I have only learned what I could in these books. And none of them mention anything such as a holy site even. Quite frustrating when trying to learn more."
+
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 +
}}</center>
 +
|-
  
−
"Ah, we...l..l I mmight be able to help there. Be..s.ides books, ma..ny faithful pass down sto..ries. One such stor..y is the Eternal Flame, granted by the Dark Mistress to the fir..st fai..thful. Whi...le the Old Gods have l..ost sway with the nobles of the land, we comm...on..ers know the true ru..lers of the land. If you wish to kn..ow more, go to Agyr. There, yo..u will find all t.hhat you seek and more!" With that, the commoner suddenly had a confused look on his face, as if he did not recognize where he was. Glancing around, he quickly figured out he was in a noble's chambers, with that noble staring right at him. "Oh please sir! Do not hurt me! I did not mean to trespass here! I do not even know how I arrived here. I will do anything if you spare me. My family will starve without me." Grante sat in confusion for a brief moment, before he figured out what was happening here.
+
|-
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|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Deve
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|Recipients=Personal letter to Nerta
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|Content=Lady Nerta,
  
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"Do not worry, you seem to only be suffering amnesia. You were actually called here by myself to tell me...um...about....potatoes." Figuring it would be too confusing to explain everything, he went with what he figured all peasants cared about. And it apparently worked in this case.
+
Did you get shot in the knee? Many fellow adventurers had to retire due to those cursed arrows. They seem to always go for knees.
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|Title=Adventurer
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}}</center>
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|-
  
−
"Oh, I know much about potatoes sir." He takes a deep breath to go into a long lecture on the best way to scrape mold off your last batch, but Warmund had already grabbed the peasant and showing him the way out, knowing his lord would have him thrown out the window if that lecture occurred. With the peasant now gone, Grante made his way over to the window and stared out of it, contemplating his next steps.
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|-
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|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
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|Recipients=Deve
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|Content=Why you're not wrong on that Deve... I got lucky though! Missed my knee by that much...
  
−
"So what now Sir?" Warmund asked as he entered the room again, closing the door. He did not make much sense of what had just occurred, and figured it was the cause of fever dreams or the like.
+
And drop the 'lady'
  
−
"It seems we will have to take a journey to Agyr soon. And based by your look, I do not think you know what just happened. I believe we were just visited by one of the Old Gods themselves. Which one, I do not know. But it is clear that they want me to head north. Ironic, no? I spent much time yelling at that Heidr over going to Keffa, and now I might find myself making the same journey." Grante turned back to the desk and picked up where he had left off in one of the books. "But for now, we continue to Bym then back to Jidington. We must leave at the right moment to ensure Nova does not suffer in my absence."
+
ooc: allllmost said it exactly. ^.-
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|Title= Decurion of Nova, Duke of Lux Centralis, Count of Elloranaal, Marshal of the Liberators
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|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 
}}</center>
 
}}</center>
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|-
  
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|-
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|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Sylvia
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|Recipients=Nerta
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|Content=Dame Nerta,
  
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<center>{{Message2
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I can't speak for what the others might want, but I would greatly appreciate the updates.
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|Width=80%
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|Title=Adventurer
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}}</center>
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|-
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|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
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|Width=100%
 
|Type=Letter
 
|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Grante Le Monte
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|Sender=Jacinda the Driven
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|Recipients=Everyone in Lux Nova
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|Recipients=Nerta
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|Content=Nobles,
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|Content=Old friend,
  
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It seems that Sir Guntram's journey north has already run into trouble. Could I get scout reports of Thromegor to see how large the enemy force is there?
+
I don't know how these Tribunes work, but I've followed your lead for a good while now, and I'm more than content to keep following that lead.
 +
|Title=Adventurer
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}}</center>
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|-
  
−
And while some might feel their gods have forsaken them, I believe something different is going on. I have begun reading old texts that mention these beings called the Old Gods, the gods of this land who actually created the monsters and ultimately control the undead. From my readings, I believe that these Old Gods are pitting us against their creations. They value strength, ambition, and power dedicated to them. They do not care for prayers, but the actions that you take. If we were to prove ourselves in the eyes of the Old Gods, we might see ourselves given the boons needed to properly defend our lands and prosper here in Nova.
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|-
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|colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Wren the Watcher
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|Recipients=Nerta
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|Content=Friend Nerta!
  
−
Any who might be interested in knowing more, feel free to send a message to me. I have started quite a collection of these books now.
+
What is there to know of the new world you have found? Will you still hunt with us?
  
−
For Nova and the Old Gods,
+
Signed,
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|Title= Decurion of Nova, Duke of Lux Centralis, Count of Elloranaal, Marshal of the Liberators
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|Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 
}}</center>
 
}}</center>
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|-
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|-
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|<center>{{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Soren Navaar
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|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
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|Content=Priestess,
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I am honored to hear that my song went over well. Perhaps I shall commit it to the Academy Archives in the Seven Rivers Bardic Wing if we ever reclaim it from the beasts that plague it.
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|Title=Count of Seven Rivers
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}}</center>
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|-
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|-
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|<center>{{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Ryosuke Guile
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|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
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|Content=Faithful Believers in the Old Gods,
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I have come across a text within one of the libraries of Fianik, one that gave me pause in my perusal... I can see hints of all of the Divines within this tale. I shall attach a copy of the repaired text here:
 +
 +
"Once upon a time, on the slopes of the Great Mountain, there was a village where the people known as "Happy" lived, their very existence a mystery to the rest of the world, obscured as it was by immortal clouds.
 +
 +
Here they played out their peaceful lives, innocent of the litany of excess and violence that was growing in the world below. To live in harmony with the spirit of the mountain called "Dragon" was enough. Then one day a group of Strangers arrived in the village. They came in darkness, hidden under deep hoods, but no one noticed them: they only saw shadows.
 +
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You see, without the Truth of the Eyes, the Happy-folk were blind.
 +
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In time, the Strangers found their way into the highest reaches of the mountain, and it was there that they found the caves of unimaginable Sincerity and Beauty.
 +
By chance, they had somehow stumbled upon the Place Where All Good Souls Come to Rest.
 +
These Strangers, they coveted the shining jewels in these caves above all things, and soon they began to mine the mountain, its rich seams fueling the chaos of their own world.
 +
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Meanwhile, in the town, the Happy-folk slept restlessly, their dreams invaded by shadowy figures digging away at their souls.
 +
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Every day, people would wake and stare at the mountain. Why was it bringing darkness into their lives? And as the Strangers mined deeper and deeper into the mountain, holes began to appear, bringing with them a cold and bitter wind... that chilled the very soul of the dragon. For the first time, the Happy-folk felt fearful... for they knew that soon the Dragon would soon stir from its deep sleep... And then came a sound. Distant at first, it grew into castrophany so immense it could be heard throughout the heavens.
 +
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There were no screams. There was no time. The mountain called Dragon had spoken.
 +
There was only fire.
 +
And then, nothing."
 +
 +
I wonder if any might have thoughts upon this tale? I assume it regards Jobo's Mouth and the far past, but am unsure. The Jedin Massif is the only Great Mountain I know of at present. I am most curious about this "Truth of the Eyes", much moreso than the resting place of souls. I would dare not disturb a well earned rest, but I would most certainly seek out this item, or concept, or technique... whatever it is, I would seek it. If any have information, I would be greatly appreciative.
 +
 +
((OOC: yes, the story is inspired by song lyrics, shoot me :P))
 +
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Vox Noctis,
 +
|Title=Hierophant, Defence Minister of Irondale
 +
}}</center>
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|-
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|-
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|<center>{{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Letter
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|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
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|Recipients=Everyone in The Old Gods
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|Content=That's quite the story, almost lyrical.... By the Gods is the Old Man going to start singing some more?
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|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
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}}</center>
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|-
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|-
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|<center>{{Message2
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|Width=100%
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|Type=Roleplay
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|Sender=Soren Navaar
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|Recipients=Everyone in Ar Agyr
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|Content=Outside the court room of Seven Rivers, the local lord was pacing back and forth. "How long do you think it will take to restore production here?"
 +
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Captain Oldred, a veteran of his campaigns since Obia'Syela, frowned and gave a shrug. "Depends on the people, my Lord. They are looking for inspiration and safety, and I don't think those times are now."
 +
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Soren was about to curse. He had tried not to stand out, but it seemed like he was the only one actively keeping watch. Beasts, the living dead, and more were on the rise. Even now, a few beasts lingered in the Seven Rivers causing problems. Now, he was a Lord, Champion of Avalon, and had responsibilities. Without dismissal, he stormed away from his Captain, who readily followed behind him.
 +
 +
The roads were quiet, even for a cowering populace. There should have been some people on the streets. It wasn't until he was turning down one of the main streets back toward his estate, that Soren began to hear the crowds screaming and jeering. "Captain."
 +
 +
With only a nod, the pair of them started toward the noise. In one of the market squares, at least one hundred villagers were surrounding a creature making a horrible sound. The boar-like beast squealed and grunted. It had been caught in a snare trap laid out by the villagers. Now they were trying to figure out how to kill it. The beast was easily twice the size of a normal boar, with tusks and horns that twisted around the head like a cage, acting as both a defense and a weapon. It would charge forward a step or two, trip, and then get up and back away. Anytime, someone tried to close in, it would swing its head around. Just approaching, Soren watched it nearly gore two men with pitchforks.
 +
 +
"Get the rest of the guards together. We need to control this situation," Soren ordered his Captain, who hurried off without a word.
 +
 +
"ORDER!" Soren cried out to his people. "STAND DOWN!" Nothing.
 +
 +
He grabbed the shoulder of the first person ahead of him and the woman spun around. "Back off -! My Lord!" She bowed low with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks.
 +
 +
"You look higher born. What's the situation?"
 +
 +
The woman stood back up. Even though she was dressed in leathers, Soren immediately recognized her weapon as something a normal person wouldn't be able to afford. "Katria Kadara, my Lord. First born daughter of the Kadara family that manages the land to the east of the Kadara River."
 +
 +
"Situation. Your lineage doesn't matter here," Soren snapped. His grey eyes burned into her. His usual demeanor was slipping after weeks of slaughtering creatures.
 +
 +
"The locals caught a beast, my Lord. We're trying to find a way to kill it. We've made a few attempts, but the creature's hide is tougher than what we have." She drew her rapier, a fine weapon, or it would have been. The blade had already broken, likely on the beast.
 +
 +
Soren cursed and looked back to the beast. He wasn't carrying his usual arsenal of weaponry this time. The spear and bow were for the battlefield. Instead he only carried his sword and quarterstaff. "Katria, clear me a path," he ordered.
 +
 +
Taking a deep breath, Soren let go of his usual demeanor. The man who smiled softly, sat in the background and hummed tunes slipped away. As Katria made a path through the crowd, Soren removed the mask of the Lord of Seven Rivers. He hadn't let this slip since the Temple of the Heralds of Obeah. Over a century of his family's bloodline coursed through him. Countless Rulers and Lords made their names throughout the world, culminating in him. Anything that wanted to intimidate him, astonish him, awe him, would be sorely mistaken. Here was a champion. As he started after Katria, the crowd cleared the way, though the people gave him a wider berth than they gave her.
 +
 +
By the time they reached the front of the crowd, Oldred was returning with the guards, but it was too late. Soren paid them no mind as they started scattering around the crowd to make way to handle the beast themselves. Soren, the quietest of the Navaar brothers stood strong. The look in his eyes, if it were a weapon, would gouge a hole through the boar-creature in front of him. The people want a hero, a champion to feel safe. I'm no hero, but I suppose I can do this much. "Stay here, Katria."
 +
 +
The first step toward the beast was all the crowd needed to settle down. Their Lord had shown up, and was preparing to have a go at the creature. All around him, people whispered. Eyes glanced between the Lord and the beast, most were curious as to where this side of the young Lord had been before. A few rowdier men started placing bets as to what would happen. Comments about whether he would try sword or staff. The second step was enough to make the people freeze and draw the ire of the beast before him. The third and all went silent as the beast pawed at the ground and got ready to make its charge.
 +
 +
Soren inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled, reached for his sword. This weapon was a bit wider than he was used to, but the real test was the weight to it. It wasn't heavier than normal, but there was blood on this weapon. Lots of blood. Drawing the twisted metal blade drew horrified gasps from the onlookers. Nothing about it looked right. Unlike a normal weapon, it was all one piece of metal. as though someone had poorly cut a sword out of a giant bar of steel. The grip was leather, freshly wound and sealed around the hilt to make using the weapon possible. A daimon's sword. If his grandfather spoke the truth, this blade came from a Daimon killed in Heen during the fourth invasion, and was now his burden to carry. Even the beast seemed to hesitate at the weapon's appearance.
 +
 +
Soren didn't let the crowd or the beast linger however. Instead, he stepped forward again.
 +
 +
The boar charged, tusks and horns ready to rip the young Lord to shreds.
 +
 +
Soren waited until the last moment and stepped to the side, swinging the sword with all the momentum he could muster. The blade made contact with the horn cage. Crack. The sound seemed to reverberate through every man woman and child watching. The monster lifted from the ground and went sprawling into the dirt. Soren grinned and stepped towards the beast. "Again, foul monster!"
 +
 +
He watched as it struggled to its feet, cautious of what had just happened, but seeing the threat, it only had one course of action and lowered its head to charge again. The clash repeated. Soren moved aside, and once more the blade made contact. Crack! This time as the boar went down, the unthinkable happened. It's horn fell off, leaving a twisted stump behind. The beast stood back up and shook its head as Soren closed in. It didn't have the room to charge now, so it flailed its head towards him. This time, he caught the tusk on the same side. CRACK! The tusk splintered, and down went the creature once more.
 +
 +
Soren, not missing a beat brought the sword down once more, this time, cleaving through flesh and bone, as he beheaded the beast with a grizzly splatter of blood. Gasps went through the crowd as the townsfolk watched him clean his blade on the hide of the beast before walking away from it. "It's done." Cheers rose up from the crowd as they swarmed in to look at the remains of the monster that had terrorized their homes.
 +
 +
As he approached Katria, he sheathed the weapon once again. He met the lesser noble's eyes, and she immediately looked away under the Lord's new gaze. "Katria, come with me. I don't know enough about the lesser families here, and I need to apprise them of these creatures if we want to get Seven Rivers back to what it was."
 +
 +
"Of course, my Lord..."
 +
 +
This time, he didn't need to have her lead the way. The people immediately made room for him and his companion. I guess people will notice me now, he thought to himself, and held back the sigh.
 +
|Title=Count of Seven Rivers
 +
}}</center>
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|-
 +
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|}

Revision as of 04:46, 6 February 2021

AldoMansion.png
Elevated
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy
Restless.

Nerta paces in her new tent while the stiffly dressed Captain Axel sighs. His new mistress seemed far too akin to a panther before bars.

"You need not worry m'lady, your soldiers shall see the creatures off with little difficulty."

Truth be told she had little worry of that, not after the entire army had marched in on her heels. No, she was more pensive that the archers were in harms way while she was safe and sound. But she wasn't going to have that argument again.

Besides, Bob was here and the Old Man wanted a word with him about some deed or another.
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Aeravon Velaryon
Message sent to All nobles of Ar Agyr
It looks like a new noble emerged from our ranks today, yet my lazy servant failed to properly report this. Welcome, Lady Nerta Unti! For the North,
Aeravon Velaryon (Judge of Ar Agyr, Duke of Avalon, Margrave of Fronepu)
Letter from Jacinda the Driven
Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy
Found another Dragon's Tear, in the lair of a small pack of monsterkin here in the Seven Rivers.
Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)
Letter from Varan
Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy
Undead were protecting another Dragon’s Tear in Zwering, the reanimated Grehkian general who was the final guardian put up a hellish fight. A wearying battle, but nothing a good massage and bath can’t sort out!
Varan (Adventurer)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
His room at the Wolf's Den Inn was small, but he rarely traveled with a lot of belongings outside of his weapons. Sitting off to one side was his bow, unstrung, next to a quiver of arrows. Beside that was his spear, and quarterstaff. Finally, his sword rested on his lap as he looked at the man before him. Soren sat face to face with a familiar figure for the first time in years. Long, once dark hair that was gray with age, pulled back and tied at the bottom, a ferocity in brown eyes that Soren knew as one of actual skill and burden, and a figure that looked like it could still fight years later. That was Felix Calanar, former Duke of Nothoi, and man he called Grandfather. Sitting in his lap were two objects wrapped in cloth. He had shown up out of the blue, and let himself into Soren's room without a word, and now, the young lord did not know what to say.

Felix began. "The Calanar network spans continents. Not one of you brothers is left un-watched, even if you don't realize it."

Soren nodded. "Does that mean?"

Felix nodded. "Locke is going to search for Cayden."

"Uncle Locke? He rarely leaves the estate anymore. Why would he go?" Soren asked, concerned more for his brothers than himself. Uncle Locke made him nervous. Of all the Calanar family he knew, it was the core family surrounding Locke that was the most nerve wracking. Every one of them seemed to have the strength and willpower of kings and queens in their own right. Nothing the Navaars could ever amount to.

Felix didn't respond. Instead he continued. "Velden is going to find Lucius, and I am here for you. It's time for your inheritances."

Soren blinked. "Inheritance?"

Instead of explaining, Felix unwrapped the first cloth item. An old set of seals, a map, and family heritage documents, proof of his bloodline, and ancient claim to countless regions that the family once thrived in throughout Beluaterra, a number of them were lands now belonging to Ar Agyr, and an old map of Beluaterra from before the blight took hold. A reminder of what daimon slayers fought for.

Soren swallowed hard, as he looked from item to item, setting many of them aside on the bed next to him. "That is... generous, grandfather, but I don't know how well those claims will hold up today." The last one was a seal for the Consul of Melhed. Taking a deep breath, he set that aside without thinking too hard on it.

"Move the sword," Felix ordered, and Soren immediately obeyed as he unwrapped the second package.

Soren paled. The sword that was revealed was a twisted piece of metal and blade. It looked like it could belong to some fantastic dictator in some fairy tale for children. It almost seemed blighted, and he hesitated to even touch it. The weapon had been worked and reforged over the years into something usable as a weapon. As Soren accepted the sword, he looked between it and his grandfather.

"A daimon's sword. Taken from one of the creatures during the fall of Heen by your great grandfather. He would use their own weapons against them. As the next in line of our family to serve Beluaterra, this weapon is yours should you wish to use it."

Soren, ever calm in most situations, looked down at the weapon and shuddered. "It is... an honor. I suppose."

Felix laughed. "It's no honor. It's a burden."

"Why now?" Soren asked, almost naively.

Felix, still chuckling, almost seemed like a daimon in his own right. "You're mostly free of the Blue Tower these days. Welcome to the family."
Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Letter from Ryosuke Guile
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
A glorious day for all humanity! Well done Duke Remus!

The timely arrival of Duchess Scarlett was well within the Masked One’s knowledge, and together you beat some rather impressive odds. Gethsemene stands as a shining beacon in these troubling times!

Vox Noctis,
Ryosuke Guile (Hierophant of Irondale)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
The Old Man wonders what's going on in the deep south. With Ar Agyr busy tending local matters there's little talk of another crusade. Anyone have any news?
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Soren Navaar
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
I'm on my way to Lloringel to assist.

Might I suggest we change the melee and ranged formations?

With melee in box, it means they will last longer, and with the ranges forces in a line, they will do more damage.
Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
Not a bad idea Soren, but I'm to ask: Know any good songs to go with the March?
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Soren Navaar
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
A song Priestess?

I might have one up my sleeves here. An old war song. The music is a bit rough

As the drum beat started on that day, heard a hundred miles back A hundred thousand arrows fly, and the blue sky turned to black. Yes, that foul hail, you see, it lasted all day long And the army marched, banners high, burning hearts still strong.

The battle, yes, the battle had begun. The battle, yes, the battle, nowhere to run.

As the first blows struck, cries called out, judgement for their sins The warriors march, pure of cause, a thousand smaller wins. As combatants fall, final breaths, the field becomes a flood With wolven howls, our heroes push, through sweat, tears, and blood.

The battle, yes, the battle on the rise. The battle, yes, the battle now, hear our howling cries.

The last foe falls, beneath cold steel, despite the fearsome clash Driven from the field they say, powerful as thunders crash. Heroes cheer, victory, still they mourn the cost A toast held high, a drink or two, for the ones they lost.

The battle, yes, the battle stopped at last.

This pack of wolves must move on, a tale for their past.
Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
Soren, The Old Man will not stop singing this now. I hope you're happy. He just mutters about Gor Ault and some ancient war.
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
A few more legends have been recorded in the library. Some are more, colourful than others... Anyone know of any other local stories?
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Gadwin Ardent
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
I came to this land determined to learn of the Old Gods. I have read some of the materials in the library but I would very interested to hear the thoughts, teachings and opinions of those who have followed the Old Gods. Is there one or more among you who would be willing to guide me in these early times of discovery?
Gadwin Ardent (Knight of Daisha)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
The Old Man says yes, though I'm more qualified to teach you about hunting. What brought you here, another with visions from the Gods or just a grudge against the Children?
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Gadwin Ardent
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
I have had no visions. I am no prophet or seer. I also hold no grudges as of note, against the children or anyone else. I simply heard rumors of Old gods being found again here in Beluaterra. Small bits and seemingly inaccurate in many cases. But what I did hear stirred me. I had to learn more. And so here I am.
Gadwin Ardent (Knight of Daisha)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
You must be new or have led a charmed life Gadwin. Hope it continues.

Either way, the Old Gods are the masters of this land and the monsters their Children. We are in contest with the beasts to control this land, a contest we seem to be losing given all the wild lands. Our goal is simple, to win the love of the Gods and vanquish the monsters through the strength of the human spirit.

What had you heard, something different than this?

Actually we've lost most of our Augurs lately. Wonder what they know that we don't...
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Quincy Stormreaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
Fellow faithful,

I'm pleased to announce the opening of the temple in Aesh. I invite a priest to preach in my lands at their earliest convenience and and elder to enlarge the temple. Please remove the Dashi influence from my lands as soon as possible.

Iron Within and Sexy Velvet Without,
Quincy Stormreaver (Keeper of Law of Irondale)
Letter from Jacinda the Driven
Message sent to Personal letter to Nerta
Old friend,

I seem to find more coin passing through my hands these days than I have any use for. The Academy in Agyr is grand and can serve as a good home for those of us who still wander, and my gear is as good as any lady's. But the Wolf Lord still has paid no mind to my tries to get his attention, and I think that my little shrines are swept away by the winds and rain soon enough.

If...If I supplied the gold, could you...Bless the shrines I put up? See to it that the folk in those regions tend them? I keep thinking if there is enough to get his attention, perhaps...Maybe it'll be enough.

(OOC Jacinda keeps ending up with truly ridiculous amounts of cash from scrolls and all, and I've been RPing her setting up little shrines when she kills undead champions or monster champions, thought it would be fun to have those turned into actual game mechanical shrines, and that would help the religion too.)
Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to to Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
Jacinda,

Did you get Wren to write this? It's been too long. I can always find somewhere to spend the coin though it'll take time to get things set up, always time. You should come by so I don't have to get some scribe to write this all for me and we can talk.

Heck, some of the Patricians are giving me, suggestions that I play at being a Tribune...

Your friend,
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
Your Majesty,

Given my background and origin, I was thinking of reaching out to the adventurers of the realm in the style of the Tribunes of old. Have you any thoughts on the matter?

Yours,
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Aibhlidhn Dubhaine
Message sent to Nerta
Priestess Nerta, I often speak to our adventurers myself so please feel free to follow suit. We're blessed with some patriotic commoners and I'm as eager to support their efforts as they are to support ours.
Aibhlidhn Dubhaine (Queen of Ar Agyr)
Letter from Jacinda the Driven
Message sent to Personal letter to Nerta
Nerta, Found some good scribes with the guild who can get it all down for me, though I suspect they make it more formal than what I am saying. And aye, I'll come visit, where might I find you these days?
Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Message to all adventurers of Ar Agyr
Many of you know me, but some of you don't.

I used to be an adventurer like you... but some things have changed and now I get to linger with the patricians.

Around these parts there used to be something called a Tribune who's duty it was to talk with the plebeians and adventurers, to make sure their voices were heard on the old Senate. I don't have a mandate from the crown, and the old laws aren't in use right now but... if you all want a Tribune I'll speak with you and keep you informed with events.
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Deve
Message sent to Personal letter to Nerta
Lady Nerta, Did you get shot in the knee? Many fellow adventurers had to retire due to those cursed arrows. They seem to always go for knees.
Deve (Adventurer)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Deve
Why you're not wrong on that Deve... I got lucky though! Missed my knee by that much...

And drop the 'lady'

ooc: allllmost said it exactly. ^.-
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Sylvia
Message sent to Nerta
Dame Nerta, I can't speak for what the others might want, but I would greatly appreciate the updates.
Sylvia (Adventurer)
Letter from Jacinda the Driven
Message sent to Nerta
Old friend, I don't know how these Tribunes work, but I've followed your lead for a good while now, and I'm more than content to keep following that lead.
Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)
Letter from Wren the Watcher
Message sent to Nerta
Friend Nerta!

What is there to know of the new world you have found? Will you still hunt with us?

Signed,
Wren the Watcher (Foederati)
Letter from Soren Navaar
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
Priestess, I am honored to hear that my song went over well. Perhaps I shall commit it to the Academy Archives in the Seven Rivers Bardic Wing if we ever reclaim it from the beasts that plague it.
Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Letter from Ryosuke Guile
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
Faithful Believers in the Old Gods,

I have come across a text within one of the libraries of Fianik, one that gave me pause in my perusal... I can see hints of all of the Divines within this tale. I shall attach a copy of the repaired text here:

"Once upon a time, on the slopes of the Great Mountain, there was a village where the people known as "Happy" lived, their very existence a mystery to the rest of the world, obscured as it was by immortal clouds.

Here they played out their peaceful lives, innocent of the litany of excess and violence that was growing in the world below. To live in harmony with the spirit of the mountain called "Dragon" was enough. Then one day a group of Strangers arrived in the village. They came in darkness, hidden under deep hoods, but no one noticed them: they only saw shadows.

You see, without the Truth of the Eyes, the Happy-folk were blind.

In time, the Strangers found their way into the highest reaches of the mountain, and it was there that they found the caves of unimaginable Sincerity and Beauty. By chance, they had somehow stumbled upon the Place Where All Good Souls Come to Rest. These Strangers, they coveted the shining jewels in these caves above all things, and soon they began to mine the mountain, its rich seams fueling the chaos of their own world.

Meanwhile, in the town, the Happy-folk slept restlessly, their dreams invaded by shadowy figures digging away at their souls.

Every day, people would wake and stare at the mountain. Why was it bringing darkness into their lives? And as the Strangers mined deeper and deeper into the mountain, holes began to appear, bringing with them a cold and bitter wind... that chilled the very soul of the dragon. For the first time, the Happy-folk felt fearful... for they knew that soon the Dragon would soon stir from its deep sleep... And then came a sound. Distant at first, it grew into castrophany so immense it could be heard throughout the heavens.

There were no screams. There was no time. The mountain called Dragon had spoken. There was only fire. And then, nothing."

I wonder if any might have thoughts upon this tale? I assume it regards Jobo's Mouth and the far past, but am unsure. The Jedin Massif is the only Great Mountain I know of at present. I am most curious about this "Truth of the Eyes", much moreso than the resting place of souls. I would dare not disturb a well earned rest, but I would most certainly seek out this item, or concept, or technique... whatever it is, I would seek it. If any have information, I would be greatly appreciative.

((OOC: yes, the story is inspired by song lyrics, shoot me :P))

Vox Noctis,
Ryosuke Guile (Hierophant, Defence Minister of Irondale)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in The Old Gods
That's quite the story, almost lyrical.... By the Gods is the Old Man going to start singing some more?
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar
Message sent to Everyone in Ar Agyr
Outside the court room of Seven Rivers, the local lord was pacing back and forth. "How long do you think it will take to restore production here?"

Captain Oldred, a veteran of his campaigns since Obia'Syela, frowned and gave a shrug. "Depends on the people, my Lord. They are looking for inspiration and safety, and I don't think those times are now."

Soren was about to curse. He had tried not to stand out, but it seemed like he was the only one actively keeping watch. Beasts, the living dead, and more were on the rise. Even now, a few beasts lingered in the Seven Rivers causing problems. Now, he was a Lord, Champion of Avalon, and had responsibilities. Without dismissal, he stormed away from his Captain, who readily followed behind him.

The roads were quiet, even for a cowering populace. There should have been some people on the streets. It wasn't until he was turning down one of the main streets back toward his estate, that Soren began to hear the crowds screaming and jeering. "Captain."

With only a nod, the pair of them started toward the noise. In one of the market squares, at least one hundred villagers were surrounding a creature making a horrible sound. The boar-like beast squealed and grunted. It had been caught in a snare trap laid out by the villagers. Now they were trying to figure out how to kill it. The beast was easily twice the size of a normal boar, with tusks and horns that twisted around the head like a cage, acting as both a defense and a weapon. It would charge forward a step or two, trip, and then get up and back away. Anytime, someone tried to close in, it would swing its head around. Just approaching, Soren watched it nearly gore two men with pitchforks.

"Get the rest of the guards together. We need to control this situation," Soren ordered his Captain, who hurried off without a word.

"ORDER!" Soren cried out to his people. "STAND DOWN!" Nothing.

He grabbed the shoulder of the first person ahead of him and the woman spun around. "Back off -! My Lord!" She bowed low with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks.

"You look higher born. What's the situation?"

The woman stood back up. Even though she was dressed in leathers, Soren immediately recognized her weapon as something a normal person wouldn't be able to afford. "Katria Kadara, my Lord. First born daughter of the Kadara family that manages the land to the east of the Kadara River."

"Situation. Your lineage doesn't matter here," Soren snapped. His grey eyes burned into her. His usual demeanor was slipping after weeks of slaughtering creatures.

"The locals caught a beast, my Lord. We're trying to find a way to kill it. We've made a few attempts, but the creature's hide is tougher than what we have." She drew her rapier, a fine weapon, or it would have been. The blade had already broken, likely on the beast.

Soren cursed and looked back to the beast. He wasn't carrying his usual arsenal of weaponry this time. The spear and bow were for the battlefield. Instead he only carried his sword and quarterstaff. "Katria, clear me a path," he ordered.

Taking a deep breath, Soren let go of his usual demeanor. The man who smiled softly, sat in the background and hummed tunes slipped away. As Katria made a path through the crowd, Soren removed the mask of the Lord of Seven Rivers. He hadn't let this slip since the Temple of the Heralds of Obeah. Over a century of his family's bloodline coursed through him. Countless Rulers and Lords made their names throughout the world, culminating in him. Anything that wanted to intimidate him, astonish him, awe him, would be sorely mistaken. Here was a champion. As he started after Katria, the crowd cleared the way, though the people gave him a wider berth than they gave her.

By the time they reached the front of the crowd, Oldred was returning with the guards, but it was too late. Soren paid them no mind as they started scattering around the crowd to make way to handle the beast themselves. Soren, the quietest of the Navaar brothers stood strong. The look in his eyes, if it were a weapon, would gouge a hole through the boar-creature in front of him. The people want a hero, a champion to feel safe. I'm no hero, but I suppose I can do this much. "Stay here, Katria."

The first step toward the beast was all the crowd needed to settle down. Their Lord had shown up, and was preparing to have a go at the creature. All around him, people whispered. Eyes glanced between the Lord and the beast, most were curious as to where this side of the young Lord had been before. A few rowdier men started placing bets as to what would happen. Comments about whether he would try sword or staff. The second step was enough to make the people freeze and draw the ire of the beast before him. The third and all went silent as the beast pawed at the ground and got ready to make its charge.

Soren inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled, reached for his sword. This weapon was a bit wider than he was used to, but the real test was the weight to it. It wasn't heavier than normal, but there was blood on this weapon. Lots of blood. Drawing the twisted metal blade drew horrified gasps from the onlookers. Nothing about it looked right. Unlike a normal weapon, it was all one piece of metal. as though someone had poorly cut a sword out of a giant bar of steel. The grip was leather, freshly wound and sealed around the hilt to make using the weapon possible. A daimon's sword. If his grandfather spoke the truth, this blade came from a Daimon killed in Heen during the fourth invasion, and was now his burden to carry. Even the beast seemed to hesitate at the weapon's appearance.

Soren didn't let the crowd or the beast linger however. Instead, he stepped forward again.

The boar charged, tusks and horns ready to rip the young Lord to shreds.

Soren waited until the last moment and stepped to the side, swinging the sword with all the momentum he could muster. The blade made contact with the horn cage. Crack. The sound seemed to reverberate through every man woman and child watching. The monster lifted from the ground and went sprawling into the dirt. Soren grinned and stepped towards the beast. "Again, foul monster!"

He watched as it struggled to its feet, cautious of what had just happened, but seeing the threat, it only had one course of action and lowered its head to charge again. The clash repeated. Soren moved aside, and once more the blade made contact. Crack! This time as the boar went down, the unthinkable happened. It's horn fell off, leaving a twisted stump behind. The beast stood back up and shook its head as Soren closed in. It didn't have the room to charge now, so it flailed its head towards him. This time, he caught the tusk on the same side. CRACK! The tusk splintered, and down went the creature once more.

Soren, not missing a beat brought the sword down once more, this time, cleaving through flesh and bone, as he beheaded the beast with a grizzly splatter of blood. Gasps went through the crowd as the townsfolk watched him clean his blade on the hide of the beast before walking away from it. "It's done." Cheers rose up from the crowd as they swarmed in to look at the remains of the monster that had terrorized their homes.

As he approached Katria, he sheathed the weapon once again. He met the lesser noble's eyes, and she immediately looked away under the Lord's new gaze. "Katria, come with me. I don't know enough about the lesser families here, and I need to apprise them of these creatures if we want to get Seven Rivers back to what it was."

"Of course, my Lord..."

This time, he didn't need to have her lead the way. The people immediately made room for him and his companion. I guess people will notice me now, he thought to himself, and held back the sigh.
Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
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