Difference between revisions of "Unti Family/Nerta/A6S1"
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Carving into the Ice Queen's champion under the dancing light of the stars, she eats the frozen flesh and shudders at the taste of raw magic. | Carving into the Ice Queen's champion under the dancing light of the stars, she eats the frozen flesh and shudders at the taste of raw magic. | ||
+ | |Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Roleplay | ||
+ | |Sender=Soren Navaar | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in the Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content= No matter where he traveled today, Soren somehow ended up back at the temple in Seven Rivers, or just outside the ferry over to The Sick. A grim shadow hung over him by the third trip between them, and with nothing at the temple, he had finally resigned himself to checking out the ferry. | ||
+ | |||
+ | An hour later, Soren found himself setting foot on the cursed swampland of Seven Rivers, alone, and grumbling to himself. If the Trickster wanted to lead him along, he may as well see what would happen. It'd be his own cursed luck if he died here. Step after step, he trudged forward, boots sinking in slick muck and lifting out again with a wet pop all the while stalked by silence. This continued until, exhausted, his boots found stable dirt. He wanted to collapse on the ground right then and there, tired from the slow struggle to get this far. An easy death. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of him. Wherever the Emperor was leading him, he was determined to see it through to the end... | ||
+ | |||
+ | Another hour or so passed. It was hard to tell by just the position of the sun, but it had to be about mid day, but the true marker was the old stone building he came across. Having come into this part of the region several times now, he usually knew when a building was safe and when it wasn't, but this one was questionable. The stone steps were peeking up from the earth and the door had turned dark from moisture. Assuming what he sought was inside, Soren made a test of the structure. His leg came around at full force as he kicked the door in, wood splintered away, long since having given up on supporting anything. Nothing fell. Not stones stirred, just the crash and rain of what could barely be called wooden bits. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Not even dust stirred, held down by moisture, and the cobwebs that danced as he passed only gave the slightest of efforts before returning to rest. The building was once a townhouse, probably the home to a local leader or a well off farmer. No stairs or second floor existed, but a frail ladder to a loft suggested some storage. There were several rooms, but not one had a sign of what may have lived there in the past. A turned over chair, an empty barrel, a table. Everything had to have been carefully packed up to leave so little behind, or the place had already been cleared out several times by thieves. Why had the Emperor brought him to this place? | ||
+ | |||
+ | He paused before a window to look outside. Was I even supposed to come in here? Golden eyes peered back at him from the reeds. A black snout and a whirl of fur as it bolted into the woods. Black Jaw? Did the legendary grim wolf truly exist? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Growls filled the air. Multiple, and Soren flinched as he realized what had happened. The wolves of the swamp had followed him inside and were hungry. Turning, looking for an out, he realized the room he was in had little to offer. A single bookshelf, a couple of windows, and only one doorway. Closed windows offered a bit of protection as he decided to act, pushing the bookcase to the doorway. It proved harder than expected, not budging despite his every effort. Claws scratched the floor as he counted at least three wolves in the room nearby. He had to block the doorway. He shoulder checked the door as he heard a howl from across the house. Nothing. Move! Move Damn you! He bit his tongue trying to not yell aloud. Now he tried to rip the shelf from the wall, desperate for some kind of cover. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Crack! Crick... Crcik... CRACK! | ||
+ | |||
+ | The shelves began to tip over almost in slow motion as once more he could rely on the rotten wood. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and as the first snout poked its way into the doorway to check the noise... YELP! A whine and a cry as the wolf's nose was clipped with the shelf as Soren slammed it into place. It wouldn't last, but it would by him time. Heart racing he looked around again, eyes resting on a small alcove that hadn't existed before. A growl sounded from the edge of his hearing, but Soren focused instead on the small indent. A shelf, and a box. Small, metal, rusted. A banner hung behind it, a black flag with a white paw that looked like it would fray the second he touched it. "A Melite safe house," he wondered aloud as he reached out for the box. Nothing appeared trapped as he grabbed the lock and twisted. Rusted through, it broke into smaller pieces that clattered to the ground as he opened the box. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A vision of the Sennex glaring him came to mind. He didn't know over what. That list was too long. Instead, it was her letter that re recalled as he reached into the box and withdrew a silver signet ring. Now he had to get out of here. Happy Solstice indeed... | ||
+ | |Title=Count of Seven Rivers | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | ! Firbalt | ||
+ | [[File:Garden.png|200px]] | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Letter | ||
+ | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in the Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content= The Dalesmen are keeping busy piling up rocks I see. I wonder if any wish to join I protecting and patrolling all this new area as another Guardian. | ||
+ | |Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Letter | ||
+ | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content=Senex, | ||
+ | |||
+ | We are busy doing far more than just piling up rocks. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There are many things afoot within the Arcane Republic, and the expansion of our faith into Duke Grante's lands is a necessary step towards one of our current goals. With the merger of Obia'Syela complete, Duke Grante and myself find ourselves directly countered by two Dukes of the Obean faith within our own realm. Given Duke Grante's stance on magickal applications on a daily basis, it further complicates my own interests and delays the advancement of my arcane studies. This is in no way a negative thing, nor an attempt to slander the good Duke, it is merely an observation on the state of things. I am devoted entirely to the betterment of our species, quite unlike my former Guardian, the rogue Prince Woelfen. I will not apply any magicks without the consensus and agreement of those who follow me. Whilst I am Hierophant, that means the entirety of Irondale as the realm has put me in good faith, in charge of things. If I am not in continuance in this post, and am solely relying on my positions as Duke of Prisma Noctis, as well as Margrave of Firbalt, then I shall pursue my personal magickal agenda a bit more freely. As I am currently the Ruler of the Republic, I would feel remiss to follow my own rather selfish interests. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In regards to the pursuit of a new Guardian for our geographic region, given the new temple infrastructure gifted by Irondale's own Duke of Land's End, what might be the requirements for one to undertake such a position? I am quite sure that there are suitable candidates within the Arcane Republic, but I am unable to recommend one without further details. These damnable Divine Seasons that Overarch all of mankind complicate and confound many matters, even if they are merry and enjoyable! | ||
+ | |||
+ | That being said, I do wish everyone a happy Divine Holiday season and a joyous time with your families, and loved ones! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Strength and Honour, | ||
+ | Vox Noctix | ||
+ | |Title=Hierophant of Irondale | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Letter | ||
+ | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in the Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content= So piling up rocks, as part of a contest with the Heralds, and each other? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Wonderful. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Look Ryosuke, Guardians protect people. How they do it is up to them. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I kill monsters, Balin catches bricks and communes with animals. | ||
+ | |||
+ | You can build all the lore houses and meeting halls you want, but they'll sit empty if there's no one to help the people. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I hope your winter solstice goes well. | ||
+ | |Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Letter | ||
+ | |Sender=Ryosuke Guile | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content=It most certainly does not feel as though that was a genuine well-wishing. Your snarky attitude is duly noted, Senex. Remind me to avoid bothering speaking within these halls in the future. Obviously, taking my time to explain matters of Irondale means naught and is nothing but a waste of my time and energy. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Enjoy your, whatever-you-wish-to-call-it. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Strength and Honour, | ||
+ | Vox Noctis, | ||
+ | |Title=Hierophant of Irondale | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Letter | ||
+ | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in the Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content= Your majesty, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Do not mind the weaver. She's just cranky from being on the road for a month and a half visiting empty temples. In point of fact she'll be in Firbalt tomorrow. I'd say you two can discuss matters in person, but she's generally not one for words. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Either way it sounds like Irondale is very interesting right now. I look forward to seeing the sights and hearing of this festival of yours once she, shall we say, has a chance to rest. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Until later, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sennex | ||
+ | |Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Roleplay | ||
+ | |Sender=Soren Navaar | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in the Old Gods | ||
+ | |Content=A pair of letters arrives for Nerta with a small box containing a silver seal ring. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The first letter is a short missive, while the second is several pages of drawings, still improving from the first ones he sent her some time ago, detailing his adventure and climactic battle with the wolves. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Nerta, | ||
+ | |||
+ | I'm looking into the seal of office, but I did find an old Melite safe-house in Seven Rivers this solstice. It was strange, like I was forced to go there. This was inside and may fit the bill until we can make something newer or find an original. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Regardless, I hope you are well and safe. It's been some time since I last saw you. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sincerely, | ||
+ | |Title=Count of Seven Rivers | ||
+ | }}</center> | ||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |||
+ | |- | ||
+ | |colspan=1 | <center> {{Message2 | ||
+ | |Width=100% | ||
+ | |Type=Roleplay | ||
+ | |Sender=Nerta the Weaver | ||
+ | |Recipients=Message to everyone in Firbalt | ||
+ | |Content=Standing in the shadow of yet another statue, the cloaked woman glances down the boulevard at the countless relics of old. She'd visited a lot of cities over the last month and a half, but this one was proving to be the most, urban. | ||
+ | |||
+ | It made her skin crawl. | ||
+ | |||
+ | It doesn't take long for her loitering to draw the attention of the local constabulary. The crisply dressed man in blue seemed keen to ensure the surly wayfarers doesn't disturb the merchants and points her toward the temple. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hunched and rubbing her arms as she passes gardens filled with festive celebrations, Nerta's well worn appearance seems quite out of place in the pristine and orderly city. The ragged stains of frozen ichor from her battle in Binoaramet didn't help matters. Maybe she could find a bath and a tailor. | ||
|Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | |Title=[[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]] | ||
}}</center> | }}</center> | ||
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Revision as of 14:24, 24 December 2021
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