Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/February
5th February
Day -- Poryatu
Donald Augustus Allan
Men hurried to their positions, the clank of armour and harsh cry of voices drowning out all other noise. Overhead the golden sun of House Allan danced a little in the breeze, the white on the banner had been darkened slightly from hours of marching. The company formed alongside the Dupont Guard, which by now numbered only 11 men. Donald Augustus rode at the head of his unit, he sat astride a great white horse draped in the colours of his house. As the men formed up he looked across the plains and saw the beasts headed towards the small party of Lurian soldiers. A gibbering pack of abominations that bounded across the grassland, their foul stench permeated the air and filled his heart with dread. He signalled the Captains to form ranks and then dismounted his horse. When he had set out from Askileon over a year ago, Donald had been captivated by the idea of Lurian mounted Knight: armour gleaming in the sun with one hand resting upon a fine lance, he had aspired for this. But as many man with eyes could have told you, he was far more comfortable facing this threat standing on his own two feet, and he handing the reins of his horse to a squire. He stepped forward and turned to face the amassed warriors “Men of Luria! Fear not these creatures! Stand strong and do not let fear overcome you and we shall claim victory once more time!”
His usual composure that of unwavering confidence, was not difficult to maintain. Donald’s ability to appear before his fellow man with a resolve not unlike stone was his greatest skill, and even with a pack of abject horrors bearing down on him was unable to shake this. Nobody save Donald would know how terrified he was, these creatures were worth at least three warriors each, and these men were his responsibility. He returned to the ranks as the men cheered and found himself standing beside Sir Benedict, “Stand fast Sir Knight, this shall be over before we even know it” he said.
With that the men locked their shields and awaited the monsters who drew closer by the second. They moved rapidly across the plains, but as they neared the Lurian soldiers they seemed to quicken once again. One of the Captains barely had time to call for the men to brace before the beasts fell upon them.
The terrible creatures hurled themselves forward, their claws and fangs cutting, slashing and devouring the men of the front ranks leading several dead in a flash. Donald barely dodged one of the beasts who quickly decapitated one of the men nearby. He lunged forward in fear and fury and plunged his blade in the head of the beast, which recoiled and released a guttural scream.
With barely a second to find his feet another abomination slammed a clawed hand in to his shield splitting it instantly before being raised high for another swing. Donald reacted quickly and cleaved his blade across the monster’s malformed arm, cleaving apart its grey skin and spraying blood across his sword. The monster growled in pain and recoiled for a moment before leaping forward and crashed in to Donald, throwing him backwards.
He landed on one knee, sending pain lunging throughout his body and slung his sword in a wide, wild arc. The tip connected with the creature but it remained undeterred and made ready to strike once more. Donald let out a cry of fear and fury and with all his strength leap from his shaken knee and cleaved at the creature. He felt his blade connect with the wounded arm-like limb and then sever the thing completely.
He felt strong, powerful even! He pulled back his blood drenched blade and struck the thing once again, finally finishing it off. He grinned a savage grin and and thrust his sword in to the air in celebration.
He stood there for a moment, gathering himself, his adrenaline fuelled brain trying to make sense of it all. Then he became suddenly aware of his fatigue and his armour grew heavy, he buckled slightly under its weight on his exhausted body. Steeling himself he remained standing and turned his attention to the battlefield where fighting still raged. “F*ck” he said, all his manners and etiquette forgotten “There’s loads of the bastards”
He allowed himself a moment of rest before bearing his weapon once more and re-joining the fighting.
14th February
Day -- White Coast
Sofia Nistalia
Finally, Giask.
Her arrival was as grandious as the one before, crowds chanted her name as her men walked through, the banner of her house proudly risen, and the commoners swarmed the docks even before her arrival. In her mind, more important matters banished as she forced a smile, her men marching through the city in a parade to commemorate the victory on Garuck Udor. It was, by all standards, makeshift and quick, but it worked for her. The chanting of "Saint of Santoo" and "Hero of Luria" bolstered the flames of faith within her.
Her plans were working as she planned, and soon it would all work as she wanted.
20th February
Day -- Giask
Aldrakar Renodin
Sir. The messenger intoned. The man was of middling age and enjoyed the confidence of advancing years and dutiful service. The Knight of Askileon, Sir Jeffrey of House Birkenhead has accepted your challenge to a training duel. Warm eyes glanced over to the parchment in the messenger's hand. Good. I look forward to test the mettle of this new Generation. Aldrakar spoke quietly as he inspected the swords on display at the academia.
Jeffrey Birkenhead
The white towers of Poryatown stood boldly, reaching into the sky above Jeffrey's and the Birkenarrows' heads. Setting up camp close to the city, allowing the men and women to enjoy a handful of days exploring the town, Jeffrey and his loyal captain Andrea were sitting in the commander's tent, brooding over a current map of the lands of Luria Nova.
"Sir Jeffrey, I recommend we move again soon. Some of your men are growing restless." "Don't be hasty, I haven't even attended the court of Duke Renodin yet. Come to think of it, I should have sent a letter first..."
A tall, athletic woman with features eerily similar to Jeffreys entered the tent; it was Bethany Birkenhead, second cousin to Jeffrey, who volunteered serving Luria as part of the Birkenarrows from the day Jeffrey rose to notability and has been dutiful and true in aim ever since.
"Jeffrey, a messenger arrived at our camp. Says he bears a request from Aldrakar Renodin."
Jeffrey smirked. "Speaking of which. Apparently our arrival has not gone unnoticed... well, how could it have with us setting up a camp of six dozen men and women. You can tell him he is welcome here."
Bethany nodded and slipped out of the tent, only to be ushering in the messenger, a middle aged man with apparent confidence in his trade, moments later.
"Sir Jeffrey Birkenhead, Knight of Askileon, Duke Aldrakar Renodin sent me to inquire if you are willing to accept a request for a trainign match."
"A request for a training match? Haha, that exceeds my expectations. I accept! A friendly spar can't hurt, and, who knows, maybe I can even learn a thing or two."
"So be it. Anything else you may want to add, Sir?"
"No, nothing except that I am looking forwards to it!"
Night -- Euschean Sea
Matthew Coffey
The journey to Giask had taken less time than Matthew expected, or at the very least, felt as if it were far shorter. Having spent much of it below deck writing the finishing touches to his treatise, the young lord was satisfied that his work was finally complete. After weeks of writing, reading and doing it all over again, he could sit back and admire his handiwork. True enough there were likely spelling mistakes and grammatical errors, he was just glad the core of it was finished. Now all that he needed was enough copyists in Giask to get the treatise written up in time for the festivities. Not that he expected anyone to read during such, the thought of which amused him somewhat. Too dry for the merrymaking he was looking forward to.
The thought of seeing the many faces he had only met in times of strife caused him to sigh. He had received a few scattered reports of monsters, here and there about the empire, but all that seemed distant to him from his books and the road. Moon Hall was well guarded and had been enjoying his company for some time now. He hoped he might see his acquaintances in lighter company, with good news and hearty tales to accompany some strong drinks. They all deserved it, to say the least.
A knock at the cabin door interrupted his quiet thoughts about any reunion at the capital. Drawing himself from his chair, Matthew lumbered toward the door, opening it to reveal the small, white haired woman that was suspiciously named 'captain' of this voyage. He wasn't confident about taking the ferry under this individuals command, but reluctantly conceded to his servant that he would be late otherwise.
"We'll be arriving soon your lordship, within the hour, no doubt about it." The wiry woman grinned toothily at him, causing an involuntary grimace from the man. Perhaps it was the lack of etiquette, or maybe her age. Matthew couldn't quite tell.
"Good." Was the simple answer the captain received, and nothing more as the door shut in her beaming face. Surprised that she hadn't come to warn him of pirates or sea monsters. That would have really spoiled his day so far. Matthew went about gathering his things upon the desk, so that they might be packed away by the pair of servants he had brought with him.
There were a great deal of things that needed to be done before the festivities could take place, and he had only a few days before he expected the guests to begin arriving. Thankfully, it seemed he would not be alone in his preparations, as Sir William was in the capital pursuing his own work. That large fellow had surprised Matthew in his decision to take on the humble task of arranging provincial militias on behalf of the empire. A necessary task, and one that he hadn't thought of himself. Perhaps arranging the servants at the feast might suit him well now.
Stepping off of the ship into that fabled city once more, Matthew engaged in the customary sensory overload that was Giask's harbour. Perhaps he would start off with a little gift shopping, once the nausea had settled down...
22nd February
Day -- Garuck Udor
Matthew Coffey
Making his way from the Market district, most of his chores before the festivities complete, Matthew decided to take a small detour. With a single servant in tow, the man weaved his way through the bustling crowds with ease, less due to his grace and more due to the commoners making way for the larger lord. Passing through into the innermost city, walled off from rabble and invaders alike, Matthew came to stop in front of a lavish inn with an open topped garden.
Stepping inside, he was immediately assaulted by exotic scents and sounds. He could make out a table of D'haran merchants to one side, haggling or betting he couldn't tell. Some Fissoans, armed and wearing the wealth of plundered lands or peoples, made the bar their home. He, however, sought different prey. Catching the attention of a servant girl with a truly noble scowl, he asked for the whereabouts of a one sir William, who he knew to be in the establishment at the time. It was not long before he had ascended to the gardens, a more private and palatable place as far as he was concerned, seeking out his man. It wasn't hard really, sir William wasn't exactly small.
"It is good to see and hear the voice of our most noble militia captain," the lord smirked, somewhat amusing himself by the statement, "will they have you expanding the moat around Shinnen next? I hear it could do with some dogsbodies..." Had it been another, the tone could easily have been misinterpreted, but Matthew hoped the brawny knight had a sense of humour that accommodated his squire-esque banter. "I have ordered coffee, with sugar and cream. Unless you'd prefer something stiffer?" Waddling toward his companion, he decided to lounge on some great cushions, a comfortable custom that Matthew was glad persisted in the southern realms of eastern Dwilight. With a grin plastered across his features, he finally waved over his servant, who presented a small glass bottle filled with a light orange liquid. "A gift for you, rosewater from the grand market, I figured it would compliment your otherwise... Overly manly appearance."
Report from Ciarghuala Dubhaine
I've been in Garuck Udor for a couple of days enjoying the generous hospitality of Lord Benedict and boring him senseless no doubt with stories of my travels on the Inner Sea as is the way of us old seadogs.
Aside from the pleasure of a long overdue social call I had hoped to establish a militia company here to guard the western approaches but my Captain Septinia was concerned that with so many recent recruits after making similar arrangements in Irvington we lacked a competent sergeant to lead them. She even threatened to stay herself if I didn't make different arrangements.
So imagine my surprise when quite by chance I ran into a retired veteran this morning who owns a farm not three miles from the good Viscount's manor.
Gudhric is an old hand who sailed with my crew when I was raiding the rebellious cities of the Tomb Isles, so that's getting on for two decades ago. Not long after I settled permanently in Luria he met a local woman Shoereth and decided to use his share of our booty to set himself up in business in Shinnen Purlieus supplying grain to the Imperial Army, which is the last I saw of him. Apparently that venture did well enough that he could afford a good sized villa and in Garuck Udor and hardy servants to keep it running even when the hordes overran the region.
Anyway, over a pint or two of ale in the Western Prospect - a fine inn if you're ever in the vicinity - it transpired that he'd been widowed last year and with his sons now either serving in the army or settled in their own homesteads is now at something of a loose end. So I suggested perhaps he'd like to take the Emperor's Shilling and take command of a local militia company.
So thanks to good fortune Garuck Udor is now home to a fine detachment of Free Fontanese Guard under the command of Sergeant Gudhric. I trust they'll provide Lord Benedict with many years of faithful service, and into the bargain repay him for the depredations of my retinue on his wine cellar and pantry over the past few days.
William Fitz Roberts
Making his way from the Market district, most of his chores before the festivities complete, Matthew decided to take a small detour. With a single servant in tow, the man weaved his way through the bustling crowds with ease, less due to his grace and more due to the commoners making way for the larger lord. Passing through into the innermost city, walled off from rabble and invaders alike, Matthew came to stop in front of a lavish inn with an open topped garden.
Stepping inside, he was immediately assaulted by exotic scents and sounds. He could make out a table of D'haran merchants to one side, haggling or betting he couldn't tell. Some Fissoans, armed and wearing the wealth of plundered lands or peoples, made the bar their home. He, however, sought different prey. Catching the attention of a servant girl with a truly noble scowl, he asked for the whereabouts of a one sir William, who he knew to be in the establishment at the time. It was not long before he had ascended to the gardens, a more private and palatable place as far as he was concerned, seeking out his man. It wasn't hard really, sir William wasn't exactly small.
"It is good to see and hear the voice of our most noble militia captain," the lord smirked, somewhat amusing himself by the statement, "will they have you expanding the moat around Shinnen next? I hear it could do with some dogsbodies..." Had it been another, the tone could easily have been misinterpreted, but Matthew hoped the brawny knight had a sense of humour that accommodated his squire-esque banter. "I have ordered coffee, with sugar and cream. Unless you'd prefer something stiffer?" Waddling toward his companion, he decided to lounge on some great cushions, a comfortable custom that Matthew was glad persisted in the southern realms of eastern Dwilight. With a grin plastered across his features, he finally waved over his servant, who presented a small glass bottle filled with a light orange liquid. "A gift for you, rosewater from the grand market, I figured it would compliment your otherwise... Overly manly appearance."
William looked up and smiled at the Viscount's jest. 'Aye, I heard they could use help plugging up the dam, I shall suggest a certain rounder gentleman as a volunteer? Anyway, regarding coffee I cannot stand the stuff, but it's enjoyment is probably a family tradition for you, given that you bear it's name. Regarding your offer of something strong, alas I am afraid I am on the water today, trying to keep my head clear for this' He gestured at the sea of papers on the table in front of them, covered in black ink, and accepted the rose water without comment besides a simple nod of appreciation
'I was trying to examine reports of defences to determine where the latest militia need be deployed when someone' He said reproachfully at Captain Godmona, 'Managed to spill the inkwell over all the maps. So now I am trying to find the place with the worst possible chance of enjoyment to deploy her "Dread Wasps"'
William leaned over to Matthew and said loud enough for everyone to hear in a mock whisper, 'why they are known as the Dread Wasps is beyond me, it sounds like someone is trying too hard to be intimidating'. Sir William leaned back in his chair, a simple wooden thing that contrasted greatly with the lavish seating position of the Viscount.
'Anyway, to business. I have placed the wine order and some gardens are secured should the palace prove not to be accommodating, we should begin making the other arrangements, should we not?'
Evening -- Garuck Udor
Nicholas Archival
The evening wore on as the Gilded Eagle, a gleaming merchant vessel, made its approach to the grand harbour of Giask. The vast walls of the city loomed impressively overheard and, as always, Nicholas took his time to bask in the scene. The journey had been smooth and the winds favourable, so there was more than enough time to spare so that he might enjoy the awe that all men faced - noble-blooded or base-born alike. The sun was beginning to set far off in the west, bathing the Euschean in its warm, golden light. But even so, the gilded spires of the capital continued to colour to the world around it. The woman beside him sighed wistfully.
"Wonderful isn't it, Nic?" she asked, but did not wait for a response. "When papa asked you to bring me, I wasn't sure if you'd say yes. But if you ask me - not that anybody has - it's been long overdue. Poryatown is nice, but it's not... it's not Giask." She finished her remark as reverence began to filter into her voice, and turned her attention fully to the man. She was not one to be ignored in conversation. "Father likes to play pretend that he has no authority over me any longer, but I wouldn't be as dim as to think I could do as I pleased; I'd never hear the end of it. Besides, I agree with you, Val."
'Val' nodded, suitably placated by Nicholas' eventual reply. She leaned forwards against the prow of the ship, with little heed paid to the sailors and passengers who attended to their final business before landfall. The pair remained in silence a little while longer like this, the unruly dark hair they shared whipping in the sea-breeze. They were clearly siblings, no one aboard could mistake them for anything else, with their similarities numerous. Dark hair, grey eyes and that Mediterranean complexion matched trained builds - the Archival family did not spare its daughters its martial expectations. After a few more minutes, with the clatter and din of the harbour now audible, the woman straightened up abruptly and fixed her brother with a curious peer.
"So, do you know which ones will be there yet?" Nicholas understood the question without much more prompting and he hummed thoughtfully as considered. "Viscount Matthew will have arrived by now, I imagine, as the brain behind these festivities. As for who else, I think we can expect Sir- sorry, Viscount Benedict, Earl Staedtler... hmm, Sir William too. Viscount Donald isn't the type to miss a chance to strut about, the peacock. If you want my suggestion on it, Staedtler is more than a good choice, although he lacks the excitement and flamboyance of Donald."
As Val opened her mouth to reply, the booming voice of the first mate echoed out across the deck, announcing that they were set to dock. Nicholas breathed out a sigh at the interruption, before offering his arm to his sister. "Come on, Valerie, let's see that Emeric has not forgotten the wines. It would be dreadfully disappointing if they were still sat at port in Askileon. You'll have the chance to meet the who's who of the attendees soon enough."
23rd February
Day -- Euschean Sea
Tohrm Elrath
Tohrm looked through his growing stack of bureaucratic amendments and assignments. It was somewhat tiresome to him that he must spend the majority of his days now cooped up in a courtiers office, note for note making changes to a province that repeatedly grew discontent with its lot.
Ungrateful lowborn, Tohrm mused to himself as his attention drifted to the recent invitation he had received from Lord Coffey, as well as the less than witty verbal jousting that had reached his desk.
Tohrm ushered forward his newest captain, one that had replaced the drunken sot who had accompanied him on his earlier campaign throughout the north of the realm. Marina, a stern woman indeed, but competent.
"Captain, have the men patrolling Old Delving and keeping the rabble in check. Apparently the increased rations aren't good enough for them." Tohrm remarked with added derision, his eyes fixated on his second feast invitation to date.
"I am going to be predisposed for the foreseeable future. The realm calls again and I must pander to the idle chit-chat of the court. If this... joke," he held up the stack of argumentative text that had recently been delivered to his manor house as he continued, "is anything to go by, I am expecting quite the show. You have your orders."
"Aye m'lord." Marina had kept as straight and uninterested expression in her lords presence as possible, especially given Tohrm's offhanded commentary of the realms politics. She left the room to organize the Silver Company in regular police work of Old Delving.
Tohrm kicked his feet up and casually swept the piles of paperwork off his desk, callously filing them on the floor. He was bemused, to say the least, perhaps this time his presence will be more active at this gathering of lords and ladies. Previously his mind had been set fully on proving himself on the field of battle. Now? Perhaps it was time to prove himself on a second battleground, one that tended to be far bloodier, and far more ruthless.
He clicked his fingers and a servant that was awaiting with a jug of wine stepped forward and bowed.
"Have my horse saddled. I shant need a contingent as I travel, the road will be short."
The servant bowed once more and scurried off toward the stables. Tohrm twisted his head to look out of the window that contained a idyllic vista of Old Delvings townland in the distance. It was time to see how the realms outlying provinces had fared under the guiding hand of Lord Coffey. In part, Tohrm was eager to see, given the treatise of Lord Coffey that he had briefly skimmed over. He was clearly a man of effort and determination, if not the greatest moral tact or standing. Still, it was a venture he wished to pursue all the same.
To the courts of Santoo, our knight would ride on the morrow.
Matthew Coffey
William looked up and smiled at the Viscount's jest. 'Aye, I heard they could use help plugging up the dam, I shall suggest a certain rounder gentleman as a volunteer? Anyway, regarding coffee I cannot stand the stuff, but it's enjoyment is probably a family tradition for you, given that you bear it's name. Regarding your offer of something strong, alas I am afraid I am on the water today, trying to keep my head clear for this' He gestured at the sea of papers on the table in front of them, covered in black ink, and accepted the rose water without comment besides a simple nod of appreciation
'I was trying to examine reports of defences to determine where the latest militia need be deployed when someone' He said reproachfully at Captain Godmona, 'Managed to spill the inkwell over all the maps. So now I am trying to find the place with the worst possible chance of enjoyment to deploy her "Dread Wasps"'
William leaned over to Matthew and said loud enough for everyone to hear in a mock whisper, 'why they are known as the Dread Wasps is beyond me, it sounds like someone is trying too hard to be intimidating'. Sir William leaned back in his chair, a simple wooden thing that contrasted greatly with the lavish seating position of the Viscount.
'Anyway, to business. I have placed the wine order and some gardens are secured should the palace prove not to be accommodating, we should begin making the other arrangements, should we not?'
Matthew was quite content lounging in the garden, listening to his companion. A laugh here, a nod there. He merely appeared to be appreciating the company if nothing else. Mild interest caused him to glance over the various maps the spartan knight was scrutinizing, quite the contrast from Matthew's own preferred working environment. His involved far more wine, food and other distractions. To each their own.
Once sir William had finished, mentioning preparations for the festivities, he was answered with an indifferent wave of the hand. "I am grateful for the wine, I had left the ordering to yourself since you mentioned you had alternatives. I trust the palace will be open, provided the right guests arrive, but it is good that you arranged otherwise, as I suggested." He paused, taking a moment to enjoy his coffee.
"The festivities themselves should all be in order, I have requested and paid for various activities... Chief among them being some alchemist who is to entertain us with some colourful concoctions he has created, a pair of foreign fighters, apparently capable of tearing a man in half with their bare hands..." That particular entertainment he seemed to consider for a moment, maybe about whether it was a good idea or not, regardless he continued. "And of course the final act, a wonderfully talented fire tamer I found in the market. Apparently they can even eat the stuff!" He barked a laugh at the thought of it, whether of a poor entertainer burning themselves or actual amusement at such a spectacle was hard to discern. Nodding, assured of his own good work, he finished. "Of course, this will be accompanied by the customary five courses and usual entertainment. So I think that answers your questions, and I must admit I doubt there is much for us to do except wait for our guests. I would like to meet with them once they reach the docks, perhaps I should leave word for them." Rubbing his chin, he continued to drink his coffee. Once he had finished, he made sure to pen a letter and hand it to one of his servants, inviting any that arrive early to the two's current location.
Evening -- Euschean Sea
Benedict Dupont
The small merchant ship was large enough to accommodate Benedict and a handful of servants. Three barrels of wine sat in the hold as Garuck Udor faded into the horizon.
It would be more than half a day before Benedict saw his old home of Giask. He gazed at the fourth barrel sitting on the deck and smiled, it wouldn't be a dull voyage.
William Fitz Roberts
Matthew was quite content lounging in the garden, listening to his companion. A laugh here, a nod there. He merely appeared to be appreciating the company if nothing else. Mild interest caused him to glance over the various maps the spartan knight was scrutinizing, quite the contrast from Matthew's own preferred working environment. His involved far more wine, food and other distractions. To each their own.
Once sir William had finished, mentioning preparations for the festivities, he was answered with an indifferent wave of the hand. "I am grateful for the wine, I had left the ordering to yourself since you mentioned you had alternatives. I trust the palace will be open, provided the right guests arrive, but it is good that you arranged otherwise, as I suggested." He paused, taking a moment to enjoy his coffee.
"The festivities themselves should all be in order, I have requested and paid for various activities... Chief among them being some alchemist who is to entertain us with some colourful concoctions he has created, a pair of foreign fighters, apparently capable of tearing a man in half with their bare hands..." That particular entertainment he seemed to consider for a moment, maybe about whether it was a good idea or not, regardless he continued. "And of course the final act, a wonderfully talented fire tamer I found in the market. Apparently they can even eat the stuff!" He barked a laugh at the thought of it, whether of a poor entertainer burning themselves or actual amusement at such a spectacle was hard to discern. Nodding, assured of his own good work, he finished. "Of course, this will be accompanied by the customary five courses and usual entertainment. So I think that answers your questions, and I must admit I doubt there is much for us to do except wait for our guests. I would like to meet with them once they reach the docks, perhaps I should leave word for them." Rubbing his chin, he continued to drink his coffee. Once he had finished, he made sure to pen a letter and hand it to one of his servants, inviting any that arrive early to the two's current location.
William's mood darkened quickly at the mention of alchemists and fire eaters. 'You certainly have an interesting idea of what constitutes entertainment in polite society, my lord. Alchemy is far too close to witchcraft for comfort, in my view. I am currently writing a treatise on the proper treatment of those who illegally practice magic, specifically the practice of maleficium. I will have to have my men keep an eye on this alchemist. I do not trust magic, nor those who practice it, and nor do I trust men who claim to be both men of science and yet claim the ability to transform base metal into gold. You will have to excuse me if I do not express my enjoyment at that particular part of the evening.'
William shook himself out of his mood, afraid he might have deeply offended the Viscount. 'anyway, discussion of such matters is not the true purpose of our meeting. I shall have one of the barrels of wine brought up for us to sample, to ensure that it is fit for the fine nobles of Luria, for most of them have shown themselves willing to put service to the realm before personal glory, though the same cannot be said for everyone.' William stopped himself once again. He always found it difficult not to allow his politics to enter into polite conversation. He was able to navigate it well enough on paper, but in face to face conversation he had yet to properly master the game.
'Your treatise was most interesting, I hope that we both see it become common practice in the Empire, though I am afraid that some of the more traditional nobles might be resistant, as well as those who seem to think the peasantry of other anarchic regions have any rights at all'
Staedtler la Stylo
Staedtler was cross-legged upon the sea-slicked floor beneath the hole-ridden tarpaulin of a trader's barge as it slowly creaked towards the heights of Giask and her daunting palaces. He did not look to to the southern coast despite the shadows of silvered parapets and steeples cutting across the deck as he was fumbling with the carcass of a blown-out umbrella. The limbs had shot vertical and snapped out of shape about a day ago, not too long after departure, and his initial fix had kept him smug for only an hour or two before it broke again beneath the next striking wind.
His hair was wildly breezed about his head, fringe licked to his face by sea-spray, and clothes soaked from shawl to shoe. Yet still he sat - a golem before the storm - tirelessly tinkering upon this irreplaceable thing.
A man with three steps approached from the stern and slammed his cobbled walking stick of oakwood into the planking by Staedtler's knee. Staedtler did not look up.
"My Lord," the trader said. "Your destination. She's in sight." He signaled to the city, leaning deep onto his crutch as the barge lurched back against the waves.
Staedtler rushed his hands, flurrying to repair the umbrella before he stood to the barge captain. His fingers were wet and cold, red-knuckled and worn down by the stresses of effort. A pin catapulted from the contraption with a ring of metal. It flew high and wide and overboard into the foam. He froze, and thought for a moment, making absolute certain that what he saw happen did indeed just happen. He realised it did, and his shoulders fell with a sigh. He doggedly looked up to the captain. A blinding wave of ice-water brine flayed against Staedtler's face, chest, and the boatman's legs. Shaken back, he took the umbrella underarm and rose to his feet like a buck from a fall, wiping water from his eyes. He thanked the sailor and hurried off toward the bow in a hobbling gait. The tripedal captain returned to the stern, stepping away with a jaunty percussion across the rattling deck, whistling in time with the beat as he went.
The umbrella was given as a final gift, sibling to sibling, not too long ago. On that day, so as his sister had married out of the family, he was about to run from it. The now mangled, little, exquisite thing of crooked brass and blackened silk could have easily been from any other person on any other day, but that morning upon the docks, with the sun to his back, the wind in his eyes, and the boat ready to sail was a moment both unique and utterly irreplaceable.
I will be alright, Fontaina had said, clasped about her brother's chest in a strong, breathless hug. Her husband was waiting off by the road, facing away as he had promised, keeping an eye out for la Stylo colours. We both will, I know we will, I know it.
She had been ousted from the family house - forcefully evicted by their uncle and three cousins at knife-point, no less, with her belongings thrown to a heap at the foot of the old oak tree on the front garden. She had no money, no help, and certainly no home to go to. All she had was the strength of her will, her pauper of a husband, and her little brother. She tucked the umbrella under Staedtler's arm, a letter tied to its haft with string, and pushed him to the docks with a bittersweet smile.
Everything will be alright, she shouted as she stumbled backwards to the roadside through the grasses. I know it - I feel it! In my mind, body, and soul!
Staedtler did not look up from the broken, little thing until the barge hit the dockside. He was thumbing the damaged limb and the cavity the lost pin had left as his manservant and scribe hurried to bring the luggage above deck. Once ready to depart, he wiped his hair from his face and put the umbrella under his arm in a box. Making straight for the palaces down the heaving marketplace he thought only of warm beds, open hearths, and dry clothes. All he felt was wet, cold, and out of breath.
This journey was more exhausting than most, Staedtler thought to himself, umbrella case kept tight to his side. It must be the sea: nothing good ever happened at sea.
24th February
Day -- Euschean Sea
Matthew Coffey
William's mood darkened quickly at the mention of alchemists and fire eaters. 'You certainly have an interesting idea of what constitutes entertainment in polite society, my lord. Alchemy is far too close to witchcraft for comfort, in my view. I am currently writing a treatise on the proper treatment of those who illegally practice magic, specifically the practice of maleficium. I will have to have my men keep an eye on this alchemist. I do not trust magic, nor those who practice it, and nor do I trust men who claim to be both men of science and yet claim the ability to transform base metal into gold. You will have to excuse me if I do not express my enjoyment at that particular part of the evening.'
William shook himself out of his mood, afraid he might have deeply offended the Viscount. 'anyway, discussion of such matters is not the true purpose of our meeting. I shall have one of the barrels of wine brought up for us to sample, to ensure that it is fit for the fine nobles of Luria, for most of them have shown themselves willing to put service to the realm before personal glory, though the same cannot be said for everyone.' William stopped himself once again. He always found it difficult not to allow his politics to enter into polite conversation. He was able to navigate it well enough on paper, but in face to face conversation he had yet to properly master the game
'Your treatise was most interesting, I hope that we both see it become common practice in the Empire, though I am afraid that some of the more traditional nobles might be resistant, as well as those who seem to think the peasantry of other anarchic regions have any rights at all'
As Matthew drew up the letter to be handed out at the docks, his pudgy fingers quite dexterous in the art of penmanship it seemed, he couldn't help but let out a scoff at the grim knights commentary on magic. However, he allowed him to finish with the same patience as before. The conversation quickly changed course to the festivities, so he resumed his idle nodding along. If he paid much attention to Williams opinions on the capabilities of the realms nobles, he didn't show it aside from a thin smile. Last, but not least, the mention of his treatise once again had him speak finally.
"Come now, there's no need for such dry topics so close to our merrymaking." He sealed the letter with hot wax and handed it off to his servant, whom departed. At this, the large fellow leaned in conspiratorially to his companion. "For one, I might remind you that the practice of magic is legal in Luria Nova, last I checked... Not that I know anyone who would ascribe to the title of wizard, witch or warlock." He withdrew, tapping his chin in thought. "Although come to think of it, that fire eater might have mentioned something about pyromancy..." Matthews tone was one of mild bemusement, possibly trying to irk the knight, or maybe genuinely pondering his employee's disposition. Waving it off, he continued. "Let us not dither speaking of the nobility poorly, we have yet to feast, we can slander and berate there. As is right and proper." He noted, finally rising from his luxurious seating arrangement with some difficulty, it seemed the cushions were unwilling to let him go. Once standing, the viscount gave William a curt nod. "You, and all the others, will receive a finished copy of said treatise at the feast. Though there will be no reading of it in polite company, not on my watch." Chuckling, he lifted a hand lazily as a gesture of farewell. "I will leave you to your maps, forgive my short stay but I should really get some proper rest before the feast, what with the travel and all that." He would await his hosts response, but likely leave without another word afterwards.
Sofia Nistalia
Sofia prepared her dress, a bright purple dress, simplistic enough, her head bore an overdecorated crown that kept her hair, stylized into a small bun, covered from sight and gave it more size than what it would occupy otherwise, Sofia's hair mostly kept short due to her armor. she spent most of her time with a hired maid to plaster her face with all kinds of makeup, hiding anything that could be considered a defect from her face. She didn't enjoy preparations like those, but she needed to make an impression for her goals.
Captain Adric moved with her men to support Garuck Udor while it was being reinforced, leaving her behind with two bodyguards of the Holy Guard to watch over her, the two men bore the overdecorated, white and purple armors with the bird of their Dame's house on their shields. They remained outside of the room where her dame was preparing, blocking entry to anyone who tried. star [reply to sender] | [ignore] | [userdetails] [character details] | [give medal: Trust medal Roleplaying medal Fun medal] | [vulgarity]
William Fitz Roberts
As Matthew drew up the letter to be handed out at the docks, his pudgy fingers quite dexterous in the art of penmanship it seemed, he couldn't help but let out a scoff at the grim knights commentary on magic. However, he allowed him to finish with the same patience as before. The conversation quickly changed course to the festivities, so he resumed his idle nodding along. If he paid much attention to Williams opinions on the capabilities of the realms nobles, he didn't show it aside from a thin smile. Last, but not least, the mention of his treatise once again had him speak finally.
"Come now, there's no need for such dry topics so close to our merrymaking." He sealed the letter with hot wax and handed it off to his servant, whom departed. At this, the large fellow leaned in conspiratorially to his companion. "For one, I might remind you that the practice of magic is legal in Luria Nova, last I checked... Not that I know anyone who would ascribe to the title of wizard, witch or warlock." He withdrew, tapping his chin in thought. "Although come to think of it, that fire eater might have mentioned something about pyromancy..." Matthews tone was one of mild bemusement, possibly trying to irk the knight, or maybe genuinely pondering his employee's disposition. Waving it off, he continued. "Let us not dither speaking of the nobility poorly, we have yet to feast, we can slander and berate there. As is right and proper." He noted, finally rising from his luxurious seating arrangement with some difficulty, it seemed the cushions were unwilling to let him go. Once standing, the viscount gave William a curt nod. "You, and all the others, will receive a finished copy of said treatise at the feast. Though there will be no reading of it in polite company, not on my watch." Chuckling, he lifted a hand lazily as a gesture of farewell. "I will leave you to your maps, forgive my short stay but I should really get some proper rest before the feast, what with the travel and all that." He would await his hosts response, but likely leave without another word afterwards.
'You are right of course magic is indeed legal... for now. Anyway, if you want rest and relaxation I can recommend the local bathhouse, I will see you later, my lord'
Sir William sat back as Matthew prepared to leave, deep in thought. If this man truly was a pyromancer, he would likely not reach his home after the festivities. In fact William would see to it. He knew of many people in the city who shared his opinions of witches. Common folk, mind you, but still of the same mind. Careful to hide what he was writing from the Viscount, he wrote a hurried note to his associates. Perhaps it was time to send a message to those who thought magic was nothing but harmless fun, rather than what it truly was: the source of misery and evil in the world.
Evening -- Giask
Matthew Coffey
The Golden Palace. Once again Matthew stood before its gleaming towers and marble statues. Edifice of the greatest Lurians to have ever walked Dwilight. Inhaling deeply, he straightened up, and entered the jaws of majesty incarnate.
Passing by servants, guards and other denizens of this monumental structure, Matthew and his small entourage made their way to the grand gardens of the palace. There, arrangements had been made for an outdoor feast. A great table had been extracted from the heart of the palace already, contrasting starkly against the natural beauty of the exotic flora that graced the grounds of the structure. Matthew wondered if the stormy weather nearing the docks would stay far away enough not to interrupt their civilized affair. 'No matter either way', he thought to himself, contingencies had been drawn up to be on the safe side.
Taking a seat for himself at the head for now, he ordered some wine and got to the work he was best suited for, delegation. Entertainers, cooks, cleaners and more were conscripted and sent hastily to their posts. Thankfully, the festivities would last long into the morrow, so time was not a resource in short supply for the young lord. Matthew pictured the guests arranged, seated before him. There was laughter, the bustling of the attendants about the table, and the one thing that escaped his daydreaming. There he sat at the head of it all.
Blissfully ignorant of this thought, Matthew snapped to attention as his fat shoulder was prodded rather forcefully by one of the staff, who seemed to regret their decision upon seeing the lords expression. Dismissing the oaf with a curt order, he sighed. Raising from the gilded Euschean wood chair with some effort, the young lord peered about the lush gardens. All was as it should be.
Now all that the feast was missing, were the guests.
Benedict Dupont
"We've landed sir" the captain announced behind the heavy oak door of the cabin. Benedict groaned, he had managed most of the wine barrel before he fell asleep, and his headache showed it.
"Very well, prepare a boat".
Benedict called his servants forward, directing them to bring the barrels to the docks. He tossed Edward, probably his name, some coin. "I need you to hire a cart and bring these to the servants entrance of the palace", he hands him a letter with his seal, "this will get you through the guards".
Benedict left his men and sauntered through the streets towards the hulking presence of the castle.
Last time I was here, I was but a recently anointed Knight, how fortunes change. He thought, smugly
Benedict passed the guards with no issues, his gait and station granting him the presence he needed to enter unchallenged. As he entered the golden halls, he felt a moment of nostalgia, before beaming and striding confidently into the hall. Heading directly towards the nearest wine bearer, he knew that this feast would be in his favour.
