Unti Family/Nerta/A1S2

Tournament for Ancients
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City Gates, Capital of the Five Lands As winter turns to spring, the cloaked woman from the mountains has learned a thing or two about the lowlands. Stark lessons in the treachery of old women, the kindness of relieved mothers, and the helplessness of the people. Yet though she had bloodied her spear in the service of others countless times, she still had no answers to her own questions. And so desperation put the huntress on the path of very different prey: an old greybeard, Bob Baceolus, Duke of Agyr. Under normal circumstances a man of his rank would never meet with a vagabond like her, but Bob complicates things further, by never standing still. The ancient Warrior-Duke is always on the road, marching from battle to battle killing monsters. So, if she could not chase him, time to set an ambush; even a Duke can't avoid attending the Royal Tournament. Of course getting there ahead of him might be tricky. The trek from the eastern foothills to the capital of the Five Lands will take some time. A little less time after the Twinkling Gaze graced her with a peasant to save. The down on his luck caravaneer hadn’t been able to afford proper guards and nearly became lunch for a Scyther. She slew the slithering beast after it tore through one of his horses, earning her a trip to the city of towers, Fronepu. The towers of the coastal city loom across the plains. Some are of polished stone, smooth and straight. Others twist and bend like gnarled trees supported by timber and prayer. Between each are low homes and shops fashioned from wood and dark brick. Ringing the entire thing are the crumbling remains of the outer walls, manned by far too few sluggish militia dressed in parade finery. So this is the seat of the Crown. It’s cleaner than Mhed at least, but compared to Agyr, it is like a child dressed in their father’s clothes. Passing through the outer gates, the familiar warm wind draws her attention up to the faded wolf paw carved in the stone. A mark of the past. A past that haunts her still. As does her light purse. Everything about living in the lowlands is just so expensive and, with a tournament underway, prices are even higher. No matter. As she'd learned weeks ago, even this shining city had a dark underbelly that would pay a huntress well. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Aibhlidhn Dubhaine Message sent to Fronepu City Castle, Royal Quarters Her Majesty, Aibhlidhn Dubhaine, Protector of the Five Lands and Crusader of the Metal Gods of Daishi, relaxes atop her balcony to admire the Royal Tournament. Basking in the feel of spring sunlight along her midnight-jet hair, the queen’s silhouette upon the wall is that of a warrior. Indeed her reputation alone had summoned a steady stream of knights from all the kingdoms even before she declared the tournament of joust and blade. She can see from here the growing crowds who will soon be enjoying the feast and drink of her city. Her people need such festivity after the long, cold winter. Yet though she would care for nothing more than to relax herself, the Crown will not allow it. There’s always so much to do, and so few she could trust to do it. Speaking of, she’d best head to the fairgrounds and make a royal appearance. Toying with her blade she smiles to herself. Maybe she could find time for a duel or two… Aibhlidhn Dubhaine (Queen of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Wolf Tavern Best laid plans… Nerta’s spear smashes through the ancient skeletal attacker, scattering bones and the last of the rusty blades. The dusty catacombs silent once again, she inspects the gloom in torch light. The Valentic Order of old seemed more termite than temple. Burrowing deep into every city they entered. First Mhed with Captain Egan, then Agyr after her escape from the hag, and now here… A warm wind whistles through the shattered bones, calling the huntress to dig and her compliance is rewarded with old coins. Like the tower looming over the gate, these are marked with a wolf's paw on one side, but the other is a blazing sun. Bouncing the spoils in her palm she listens, either to their jingle, or something else. Either way, at least she can afford a hot meal. Pulling her cloak back around her as she exits the underground, the young woman picks one of the alehouses at random. It's down a side street and thus the wide round room filled with tables is mostly empty. It's cosy, if sparse, with the only real decoration being an old banner nearly as ratty as her cloak. It's black, and carries the symbol of a wolf, but at this point that isn't a surprise. No matter where she goes she can't escape old ghosts and the lingering remains they leave behind. A thick bowl of victory-stew clomping onto the table, pulls Nerta back to the here and now. A few coins later and she gets to relax with a tasty mea-... A vessel with a pestle thumps on the table. "Well, well, someone let a pretty little thing in without getting her a drink? A shame that, but don't you worry." The bearded man dressed in blue breaks into a crooked grin. "I'm a proper gentleman and happy to keep a lady, lubricated." The glittering gaze narrows and Nerta puffs aside a stray hair. “Well I'm not a lady and I'm not looking for company so why don't you go bother someone else.” The man holds a chalice that seems fancy enough to come from the palace and positively overflowing with frothy ale. "Naa lass, this here's my table and I do like your eyes." Nerta's grip tightens on her spoon as her skin crawls. But before she could respond the door of the alehouse bangs on the wall. It draws every eye in the place to the puffed up patrician waddling in. No doubt just as intended. Dressed from head to toe in resplendent clothing of a dozen colours, the sword on his hip seems more for show then combat. As is the hefty purse he tosses onto the counter. "Let it be known effendi; Achille de Medici, Knight of Keffa, buys the house a round or twelve!" All but two cheer at the news, Nerta and the bearded man dressed in blue. Turns out free ale is effective bait for a crowd, and a growing crowd, effective cover for a letch in blue. The man tries to slip into the chair next to her, but Nerta is having none of it and kicks it back. "Seats taken." Catching the sliding seat he laughs. "Feisty! But that's alright, I'll just stand." He toasts and leans against the wall, his hand resting on her spear. "So. Not from around here, not a lady, but still armed." Nerta's glare earns another grin. "And ya, a spicy kitten. Means you must be an adventurer, and broke. I know a few ways you can make easy money." Nerta sneers and rises from her seat. “You mean by killing you and collecting a bounty? Because there's generally good pay in slaughtering monsters.” The man swirls his cup and yawns before taking a drink. “If your bite was as bad as your bark you’d not be buying stew here. If you’re broke, you’re probably bad at this, so stop pretending.” A cute couple hunting for a quiet corner get a bit close, encouraging the man to lean in. “Face it little girl, you're not leaving until I say you can.” Gritting her teeth hard enough they might crack, Nerta calmly plucks a dagger from her belt and slashes at the man. His reflexes are pretty quick, so she only catches the back of his hand. It's enough for him to drop his drink leaving the chalice to shatter on the ground while he lets out a surprised oath. “You bitch! I was going to go easy on you, but now…” The commotion catches the attention of the couple, and the man holding a flagon with a dragon interjects. “Sounds like someone's had a bit too much to drink.” His voice has an almost musical quality. “Why don't you take a walk?” The bearded man in blue spins around to snarl at the intrusion only to pause. He seems to recognize the pair and smirks still clutching his hand. "Not a bad idea, but don't worry, spicy kitten; I'll be back.” The bearded man in blue leaves while the couple lingers. The man is younger than the others, perhaps closer to her own age, though his grey eyes seem stormy. His dark hair is cut short and he wears a livery she doesn’t recognize. Some sort of knight then. Tipping over the vessel with the pestle, the amber ale spills across the floor as his melodic voice calls. “Sorry, miss. I'll buy you a replacement.” “As I told your friend, I'm not interested.” His jaw sets, eyes glancing toward the retreating figure. “Fair enough,” he bows, “though he’s no friend of mine. Either way I hope your day goes well.” With that the pair leave and Nerta can finally finish her meal. Not that she has the appetite any more. Better to get out of here, she has work to do after all. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Fronepu City, Wolf Tavern Anger churns in Soren’s gut, though it doesn’t show until the trio meet outside. He’d long ago perfected the mask of tranquillity under the watchful eye of his father. It means the bearded man in blue is taken aback when Soren confronts him in the small alley between the tavern and a local shop. “What was that disgusting display?” Soren’s lip curls in a sneer, “Have you no shame?” The bearded man scoffs. “Right because you Blue Tower boys are such paragons of virtue.” The man dabs at his cut hand, but it seems to have nearly healed. “I get that I’m to help you with some daimon hunt or the like, but my faction is interested in Foederati monsters like her. Bringing them in pays well.” Soren’s companion from the Blue Tower shakes her head, setting dark curls to dance. Her voice is rough, so unlike her youthful appearance. “Well enough to be worth the scene? I’m surprised your handlers would just sign off on poisoned drinks during a tournament, and really; did you think that entire routine would work?” Soren had to agree. The bear of a man lounging in front of him may have knowledge about some dark cult in the north, but his recklessness made him question everything about this mission, including its veracity. “Look lass, I don’t tell you how to run your little pony show, you don’t tell me how to run mine.” The man’s grin is dark. “Besides, I like it when they squirm in the net.” “This is why I hate working with you Factorium lunatics.” Soren sneers. “Everything’s an experiment to you! It’s like you’ve got no morals at all.” Scratching at his cheek, the bearded man in blue snorts. “We live in the north, not your soft south, no time to worry about morals. We get results.” Jabbing Soren’s chest. “Besides, your Blue Tower bosses know what we’re about: human supremacy, at any cost.” Soren’s grey gaze storms for two heartbeats before his fist cracks the man in the jaw. “What good is human supremacy if you divorse yourself from the human race to get it?” Stalking out of the alley, Soren glowers at the man working his jaw and jabs a finger at the woman with the rough voice. “Tell Silas I'm not working with these lunatics…” Soren Navaar (Knight of Nothoi)
Roleplay from Gustav Kuriga Message sent to Fronepu City, Across from Wolf Tavern In the shaded corner of the marketplace sits a man robbed in black with trim of both crimson & blue. Despite the festivities around him, none dare disturb his reading. Rumours claim he’s the Prophet of the Bloody Prince from the distant land of Vordul Sanguinus. Others say he offers salvation for humanity. Yet the smiling man would happily answer their questions about the tenets of Vordulism if they only found the courage to ask. Gustav Kuriga (Prophet of Vordulism)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Across from the Wolf Tavern Nerta finishes pushing her way through the crowd only to find the market plaza lacks the usual bustle. Maybe everyone is just in the alehouse but… A familiar warm breeze pulls her gaze toward the slender man shaded by the tree in the corner. He’s reading, so is probably noble born, yet the robes are not the dress of a warrior. Yet despite the differences there seems a thread, a connection of sorts. Ignoring the warm breeze, Nerta glances around the square and frowns in realisation. The Plebeians are leaving the man well alone, just like they did for her. It is surreal to feel kinship with a stranger purely due to being equally excluded. Thoughts of home bring a familiar melody to her fingers, by the Gods she missed the mountains. Stuck here in these alien lands on the outside just like this stranger. She knows nothing of the man really, and yet it looks as though no one else would take the time to learn of him. Nerta pushes aside the thoughts of home least homesickness becomes despair, but wavers. Could she afford a detour? The ache of kinship pulls her to at least try but… The blare of trumpets pulls her attention toward the walls. Has her quarry arrived at last? Glancing from one to the other she scowls and stalks out of the square. The stranger didn’t look like he was going anywhere and if that was Bob, he probably wasn’t going to sit still for long. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Godfrey Greybrook Message sent to Fronepu City, Across from the Wolf Tavern Pain is an excellent teacher. Godfrey learned that and more in the southern hills. Once a man too proud to hold his tongue, the cult of Vordulism had shown him the error of his ways. Thus the man dressed in black and crimson merely bows his head as Achille de Medici showers the alehouse with drinks. Stepping back outside, the man trimmed in crimson checks on his peer from Vordul Sanguinus. The dark-haired young woman from the corner of the tavern is drawn to the great prophet and yet too cowardly to approach. Her tattered cloak is peasant garb. A rough spun wool that screams ‘hand-me-down’ The crude spear she carries is no better, giving her the distinct appearance of a wastrel down on her luck. Yet her cloak seems bulky, far in excess to the brief glimpses of her slender face and firm arm. Combined with her general twitchiness he can only draw one conclusion: She must be an adventurer, no doubt carrying her gear under her cloak. Perhaps a rudimentary attempt to deter thieves. It is no doubt uncomfortable either way. The only question now; should he intervene least she try to rob the holy man of Vordulism? The call of trumpets answers the question for him and as the young woman leaves he turns his attention back to the trio who’d left earlier. Godfrey Greybrook (Knight of Vordul Sanquinus)
Roleplay from Bob Baceolus Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds The shining ranks of the Ballistic Hooligans march into the tournament grounds. At the head of the column rides Bob Baceolus, Duke of Agyr and Seneschal of the Five Lands. Many would scoff at the old greybeard claiming age had melted his frame, and dulled his wit. But those blue eyes are sharp and his body, though lean, is strong as a bow. The festivities remind the man of his youth. A simpler time when his banner carried the mark of the wolf and his blood ran hot. He rarely competed in those days, too busy slaying monsters, and such tournaments are closed to the officers of the royal court. But it's probably for the best; he'd be unlikely to keep up with all the younger knights these days. Settling his men in barracks, and giving them leave, the old duke and his guards ride down to fairgrounds to welcome all to the Five Lands. Bob Baceolus (Seneschal of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds So...this is the infamous Bob. Gripping a windowsill of the old Stronghold in a few places, Nerta peers down from her perch at the unassuming precession. The greybeard riding a black charger looks pretty comfortable in the saddle and there is a wariness about him that reminded her of a cat. Even relaxed, he seems ready to ambush something. And play with it. Still he was certainly old. In fact he made the Old Man seem positively spry. Shielding her eyes from the glare, Nerta traces his path through town. At last Bob is away from his battlefields with only a token handful of, admittedly sturdy looking guards. Not people to mess with, but she has little choice if she wants any sleep. As the man reaches the fairgrounds she scales back down the tower and attempts an approach, but the guards are well paid and sharp of eye. They see her off promptly since a vagabond has no business bothering a duke. But Nerta is stubborn and the heated breeze draws her attention to the man’s horse. That is her window. Someone needs to fetch things, so she lingers close at hand and when the mighty Bob calls for water Nerta happily obliges. The sloshing pail is actually fairly large, but she has a solid grip, or three, letting her approach the group like a crab. As the horse looms overhead, Nerta can’t help but wonder how she might begin but the thought is cut short by an errant splash that soaks into her cloak. Cursing, the closest guard menaces a spear her way. They take Bob’s safety seriously indeed. Thus she waits, the duke not even looking at her. “Think I saw her earlier, Captain.” The stern veteran sweeps her cloaked figure with his gaze. The man sporting a wickedly sharp goatee frowns. “Really? Then step back lass. His Grace’s horse can get water from a bucket without you.” Months of work for this opportunity only to be denied? No, but what can she… The warm wind answers her racing thoughts with an echoing call. “So this is what became of the Beloved Hidden Sage of War, the Guardian of the Flame, the Last Sentinel of Rengo…” Bob has been ignoring the slip of a girl, but this icy litany focuses his attention like a hawk on a mouse. And the titles keep coming. “…Imperator Primus, the White Walker of Lin Helon, the Dancer of Daimons, Champion of the Ancestors, Shield of Thalmarkin, Saviour of Avalon, Reaper of Emperors, Scourge of Tyranny, and how can any forget, the Grinning Fool.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Bob Baceolus Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds The litany ends like the death of a song leaving the guards alert, and Bob thoughtful. Wordlessly he signals for the captain to hold, and strokes his beard. “Haven’t heard that list in a long time. A nice trick. I would have your name, and your source.” Eyeing the guards each in turn the woman sets her teeth. “I’m Nerta, and if you want to know my source, take a look in the bucket.” Again silence stretches, but curiosity encourages the ancient warrior to wave her through the spears. Alas, thanks to his high horse, Nerta must hoist the pail to her shoulder. Can’t have His Grace bend. Reflected in the peasant’s grail, Bob can see how his face is lined and weathered from decades out in the field. Inspection of his thinning white hair is cut short by the arrival of an altogether different figure floating just behind his shoulder. The partially translucent man has a neatly trimmed beard, and long dusty grey hair pulled in a tail along his back. The lines of his face are not nearly so deep as the ancient warrior, though his violet eyes seem to burn with even greater intensity. The grave dust that scatters from his sturdy figure makes his black jacket trimmed in delicate gold & silver seems more grey, and about his throat is a partially torn cravat set with an onyx that shimmers in the light of his eyes. “It is good to see you again, old friend.” His rumbling voice echos as a warm breeze. “But I must say, the years have not been kind to you, and coming from me that is saying something.” Bob arches a brow at the snide comment and addresses his guards without taking his eyes off the eerie figure in the water. “I assume there is nothing behind me, Captain. Which means either this is a poor illusion attempting to trick an old warrior, or Consul Aldo has at last returned. I'm not rightly sure which is worse." The guard affirms Bob’s guess while the spectre chuckles. "Come on Bob, my Imperator, where's your sense of adventure? The king-under-the-mountain has returned and you know that means things are going to get exciting." “Maybe the reflection of exciting,” Bob calms his horse, “you aren’t exactly all here.” Nerta scowls under the weight of the bucket as the pair banter and curls her fingers around the lip for a better grip. The shaking sees the ghostly man rippling in the water. He waits for the image to clear before straightening his jacket. “Yes well, turns out when you steal from the Gods they notice. Even if they wait a bit to collect their due.” “See? This is why I never bothered with the Gods, it only leads to mischief.” “Condeming mischief? Oh that’s rich coming from the near avatar of the Twinkling Gaze. Has age blunted your mischievous nature? What happened to the man who catapulted zombies into a party just to liven things up?” The memory of that crashed ball has Bob smile, but three heartbeats later the grin fades. “It really is you, old friend. Then I am truly sorry. I failed you, failed everyone. Tyrants came after you were gone and I am a warrior, not a leader. I could do nothing to protect your legacy. Everything you built has been destroyed. Everyone you shielded is exposed. And I-” He sighs, “I was unable to save even you in the end.” The reflection of the ghost flares. “Bob. I know you did all that you could. If you failed, it is not for lack of trying, but for the lack of grace in the world. Though much has been lost, I am happy that I could see you even one last time.” Nerta mutters and sags under the weight of the bucket, setting the reflection to waver. “Gods… old men won't shut up…” The ethereal equivalent of a sigh bubbles up from the blurry image, but slowly the reflection returns to focus. “Don't mind Nerta, she tries but…” Trailing off he presses on. “It doesn’t matter. Yes Bob, I’m back.” Bob Baceolus (Seneschal of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr)
Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Fronepu City, Cordenata Family Manor The old manor by the sea is airy and bright despite the signs of genteel decay. Scampering through the halls of white stone is a young woman dressed in gold and orange. Her blonde hair bounces nearly as much as the letter she carries. “Father! I did it! I have an estate!” The elderly Cordenata sits in his study as his lovely daughter Mielba bounds towards him, holding the deed. From the garden a woman’s voice mingles with the bracing sea air. “Are you certain it is within the Five Lands this time?” Mielba is far too excited to notice the pointed question. “Yes! Yes! Come see!” Her father takes his time reviewing the deed while the excitable Mielba bounces as a gull on the waves. Eventually her mother arrives, casting a casual glance to ensure her wayward daughter hadn’t ended too far-afield. “Duke Bob of Agyr, Seneschal of the Five Lands, hereby offers Dame Mielba the estates of Bay... tzeera?” “Y-yes.” This causes the young lass to pause. Had she messed up somehow? “Seneschal Bob let me name it. He said we could always change it. What do you think?” The critical Lady Cordenata looks outward with a faraway gaze. Eyes closed she shakes her head slowly from side to side, but finally grants a small nod. Keeping out of the discussion, Lord Cordenata pokes his head out from the letter as the salvo concludes. “This is a sizable parcel of land, my dear. The Senechal must have taken a liking to you.” “As well he should, though,” Lady Cordenata frows, “Mayhaps this is a token of goodwill in light of the embarrassment? Really my dear accidentally swearing fealty to a foregin lord of this Vordulism cult is most, unbecoming… ” “Oh! Um, neither,” replies Mielba bashfully. “The Senechal’s man explained that this is purely for administrative reasons, but that His Grace Bob looks forward to my continued success.” “Ah. Well no matter! The Gods have seen fit to bless you, child.” Lord Cordenata carefully made the effort to stand. He beams, standing tall and proud, appearing for a moment as he had when she was a child. “Now you are truly a proper noblewoman!” Mother smiles wanly. Mielba Cordenata (Knight of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Elios Everlight Message sent to Fronepu City, Stables The sandy-haired, burly knight dismounts just outside the tournament ground to admire the banners and pennants caught high in the coastal breezes of Fronepu. Compared to his wooded land to the north, it is comfortably warm here with a sweet smell of the eastern sea. His horse Stout is in fine spirits despite the long ride though the chestnut mare tosses her head and fixes him with a sidelong glance as though to say: "I know there's a stable in there with oats for me, get a move on!" Elios leads Stout through the gate on foot, presenting his admission fee for the tournament to a clerk, and then steps away confidently to look for a stable-hand. "You'll be wanting the stable boarding for your mount then, Sir?" came the reedy voice of the clerk just behind him. Elios reddens, then straightens his shoulders to turn. "Why yes, of course." The clerk stands by his small podium, flanked by a finely-liveried stable-hand. Gaze lingering on the girl, Elios wonders how he’d missed her… "Cinda will be honoured to see your mount and tack well cared for, Sir." The clerk prompted. "Ah, yes..." the blush of embarrassment is hot under his beard, and Elios handed--nearly threw--the reins to the girl. She catches them deftly and stands at attention, waiting for any instruction. The blonde knight's brows furrow together at her silent behaviour and his eyes cast about, thinking hard. A tip? He shoved a hand into his pocket and retrieved a silver piece, and flipped it to her as well. The girl caught it without comment and maintained her stance calmly. "There is no boarding charge nor tip requirement for tournament competitors, Sir," came the reedy voice again, this time with a tone of long trained patience and a hint of patronization. "She waits for the mount's name, and any instructions as to her care." His mouth feels hot and dry, contrasting the palms sweaty with nerves. "S-Stout. She eats whatever. Oats." The knight whirls on his heel and begins to depart quickly, but only gets a few steps when another thought occurs. "Uh, Thanks." He continues his escape at a brisk walk, hunting for the nearest tavern. If not for the weight of thousands of imagined eyes on him, he would run. Elios Everlight (Count of Wailing Woods)
Roleplay from Gustav Kuriga Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu Gustav watches as a sandy-haired knight blusters into the same tavern as the others. A popular destination ever since that Keffan in the bright surcoat had started handing out free drinks. He idly wonders what happened to the cloaked figure from earlier, but if the Gods saw fit to bring them together it would come to pass. For now he finishes signing off on absolving this ‘Mielba Cordenata’ from her ill-timed oath of fealty. Such a bubbly young lady, and so full of passion. Hopefully she put his gift of coin to good use. Finishing the paperwork, the prophet rises to explore the mysteries of this old city. One of the original settlements along the east coast of what became known as Beluaterra, the shining city of Fronepu has a long history. Yet despite being the royal seat of the Five Lands there are many signs of decay in the outer city. Such as the strange shrine carved into the side of a factor’s warehouse. What draws his eyes is not the shine itself, which seems more a shack against the rain, but the stylized wolf paw above it's entrance, aged but still intact. He sits down for a time, sketching the shack as he had the outer walls for around ten minutes. Finishing the main lines of the drawing, he returns the journal and carefully approaches praying all the while that the whole edifice wouldn't come down on him. Within he finds an assortment of household items and wooden carvings depicting: a crown, a wolf, a flame, a mask, and a lantern. The shack seems barren otherwise, with nothing of value or note. Yet something catches his eye in the back. It shines in a dark shadow, away from others. It seems to be a necklace of blue lapis lazuli. Gustav marvels at the workmanship, the links of the chain seem to pour between his fingers and something, something calls him to pocket the simple necklace. He will have time to study it later, but for now he should see about visiting her Majesty. Gustav Kuriga (Prophet of Vordulism)
Roleplay from Aibhlidhn Dubhaine Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds Her Majesty, Aibhlidhn Dubhaine, Protector of the Five Lands and Crusader of the Metal Gods of Daishi, smiles behind the faceplate of her helm. Practice swords clash as she locks guard with Prince Marcus Daubney from the distant southern Theocracy of Obia'Syela. Steam rising from his visor, the callow youth moves to shoulder check the Queen, but Her Majesty pivots around to smash him across the back. The blow sends him teetering forward into the arena railing, but the man recovers quickly. “Your Majesty fights well! But then I should expect nothing less from the tireless crusader. The only pity is that you battle for the Metal Gods, not the Lady Oracle. You would make a fine Templar.” Her blade held firm between them, the Queen of the Five Lands keeps her gaze squarely on his shoulders. “Conversion by the sword is it Prince Marcus? Thanks to your tireless efforts your Lady Oracle has little need for a champion such as I.” Marcus’ sword dips as he stretches an arm. “Little need, but much desire…” The man inclines his head and the blade flashes once more in the sun. The clang of metal, and the pivot of feet pushes Aibhlidhn back to the centre of the arena. However as the routine grows more sluggish she is able to once again deflect his blade into the dirt. “A Lady’s desires can be quite mysterious, young Prince. But those of a Prince quite direct.” “Too true, but I note Your Majesty has not said ‘no’.” His blade still trailing behind, the man lunges forward suddenly. Apparently his lack of readiness was an attempt at a ruse. Her Majesty deflects the charge, disarming him in the process. “One hardly needs to say things that are self-evident, Prince Marcus.” The seconds observing the match raise flags, signalling the match has ended in the favour of the Queen. If the thrashing, both physical and verbal, upsets the young Prince he doesn’t show it. “Fair enough, Your Majesty. Truly you are akin to the warrior-queens of old legend. How do the myths go? Cold as ice and twice as deadly…” Aibhlidhn’s helm hides her smile, but not her salute. “Those legends are older than warrior-queens, or so my Senechal claims. But I shall take it as a compliment all the same. Now excuse me Prince, I must greet this Prophet of Vordulism and no doubt here his proselytising next.” Aibhlidhn Dubhaine (Queen of Ar Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds The clash of steel rings across the rapidly filling fairground as Nerta glares up at the empty gap above Bob’s shoulder. Suddenly, the irritable vagabond drops the bucket, spilling water across the parade grounds before biting out. "I tried but; it was pretty heavy." The guards seem quite bewildered but Nerta ignores their spears to round on Bob. "I get that you two are having a grand time catching up, but I'm tired of being the Old Man’s Crystal-Cursed chauffeur." Nerta's voice climbs as she continues, talking over the unseen. "I want him gone, I want my life back and I was told you could help me. So: if you two want to talk, take him; and if it was a lie, tell me so I can get on with it.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Bob Baceolus Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu Bob lets the reins slap down across his saddle and carefully adjusts his glove as the woman ends her outburst. His expression is unreadable, the anguish from earlier fading to his usual intensity, but eventually the man lets out a short barking laugh. "All that knowledge and you want to throw it away? I wonder which of you is more cursed." Patting the neck of his charger he continues. “I’m not sure what Aldo thought I could do to help. My problem solving skills are usually quite abrupt.” His eyes sparkle. “Fatally abrupt. However I might have an idea or two. But first, if you would indulge my curiosity: Where did you find the," he smiles and savours the moment, "Old Man anyways?" Bob Baceolus (Seneschal of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr)
Roleplay from Elios Everlight Message sent to Fronepu City, Wolf Tavern Elios sits at the end of the bar, back against the wall, mug of ale in both hands, to watch the busy tavern. It’s packed with Knights, Ambassadors, Nobles, and Royals, their retinues and many servants. This is twice as big as any of the feasts he’d ever had at home, and there are Royals here! He scans the room looking for any familiar faces or tabards but only spots a couple. There’s that blonde woman in orange… About to hail her, a sobering thought stops him mid call. Were they familiar because he’d seen them on his side of a battle, or the other side? Staring into his mug, cheeks puff out as he lets out a slow breath. Hoo boy... "A round on the house, courtesy of the generous Dame Mielba!" Comes a loud call from the head barkeep, to a raucous cheer. His head snaps up to see who this no doubt wealthy lady is, yet he could not spot her through the thronging crowd. Royals in taverns, and wealthy Dames buying rounds? Anyone who looked at the young bearded knight would see a man with eyes unfocused, deep in thought, as though his world had just been turned on its head. Elios Everlight (Count of Wailing Woods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds Nerta fidgets with her cloak. “He was foisted on me at an awkward time by a… shadow.” Hissing sharply at her silent companion, the Crystal-Cursed chauffeur amends. “Yes, a shadow which claimed to be the Dark-Mistress and who also said he was being punished. However since that day I’ve been the one stuck in the Abyss with an ancient wren tittering on for every hour of the day.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Nerta lets out a sigh and eventually looks up at the ancient warrior. “I came to the lowlands seeking the answers from the Temple to the Old Gods, but they are gone and I am lost. Can you help me, please? I just want to go home.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Wren the Watcher Message sent to Fronepu City, Near the Tournament Grounds The shade of the towers is cool. Peaceful. Though Wren is curious about the tournament, she dare not mingle in the crowd. It makes her nervous. Too many highborn. Too many people! She can't watch them all! She is staying away, walking by the edge of the fairground and sniffing at the tasty air. Should she spend an extravagant pair of silver for street food? Then she hears her name on the warm breeze. "...wren tittering on for every hour of the day.” What’s this? What’s this? The slender woman in a mottled cloak twists around sharply at the call of her name. Wren doesn’t titter. Wren watches. And now she watches the very old man seated atop a horse. A noble, no doubt, but he speaks with a lumpy cloak standing in a puddle of water? Curious. There’s something familiar about the lump. The woman? Woman. Something familiar about the woman. Curious as her namesake, Wren sneaks up to the fence around the fairground and settles against the timber to watch. Wren the Watcher (Foederati)
Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata Message sent to Fronepu City, Wolf Tavern Today, she would taste her first mead, one of the drinks of choice among the brave heroes of now and yore. Unfortunately, she entered the tavern just in time to be served a round of ale, on the house. Courtesy of some other knight, perhaps that handsome man by the bar… Mielba makes sure to take her first sip when the blonde knight looks in her direction. She’d always found Fronepu‘s famous ale too bitter for her tastes. However, it was considered an insult to refuse Fronenite ale, why within the capital itself, a refusal of the ale might be considered treason. In her twenty years she’d never seen anyone refuse. Pouting at the fading foam, she considers her options, and takes another strategic sip of ale. A barmaid walking by became the perfect opportunity to shyly ask about the protocol for ordering a round of drinks. Specifically mead, if possible. Surely if it was made with honey, it would not be too bitter? Feeling safe amongst the many nobles in the tavern, she indulged in a fantasy that she could be a renowned knight or even hero- rather than a foolish young dame who sent men to perish in battle and did not even save the town. Stealing another glance at the young knight, she wonders if he, too, has regrets from the battlefield. Mielba Cordenata (Knight of Agyr)
Roleplay from Bob Baceolus Message sent to Fronepu city, Tournament Grounds. Bob can’t help the dry laugh. “The Dark Mistress you say? My my Aldo, punished by the Goddess of Death herself. That little expedition of yours all those years ago is still causing chaos even now. For a wise man you can certainly play the fool quite well…” Instinct draws the eye of the old warrior. There nestled against a fence by the fareground is a sack. Or so it seems at first, but poking out from the mottled cloak are bright eyes. Another cloaked vagabond? Interesting. His gaze flickers back to the surly woman at his feet. “My knowledge of ghosts is limited to creating them but the usual trick is to find their anchor and smash it. Of course that seems to be you. However, most ghosts aren’t sent by the Gods, so perhaps if you complete whatever task he is assigned they’ll reel him back in. I can’t speculate what that task is, but perhaps the old Agyrian Academy that Aldo spent so long building might hold answers.” “Also, though the Followers of the Old Gods may not be as obvious as they once were,” Turning his horse, Bob fishes in his shirt and pulls out a pendant depicting the Eternal Flame, “they are still out there, doing what must be done to protect the land.” The man smiles then, broadly. “Welcome to the hunt, Nerta. But now I must take my leave. For my current Queen, calls.” Bob Baceolus (Chancellor of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Tournament Grounds Left in the midst of the soggy field with a vague disquiet, Nerta can only watch as Bob rides off with his words ringing in her ears. She has answers, of a sort. Though like any battle, each minor victory becomes two more challenges. If Bob’s right, death will release the irritating ghost. Which isn’t much use to her since she rather likes being alive. That leaves finishing his mission. The thought of helping the Old Man irritates. He’d done nothing to endear himself. Her glare at the floating spectre only she could see, is interrupted by the sudden blare of trumpets. Oh! The tournament must be about to begin. Scuttling off to hide in the shadow of the fence away from the parade of Knights, Nerta rests her brow against the timber. She can feel the heat of the ghost at her back, oh he must be pleased with himself. “You must be pleased with yourself, Old Man. I can see why you wanted me to speak with Bob. Such options, either kill myself or do what you want. Either way there’s a noose around my neck.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Wren the Watcher Message sent to Fronepu City, Near the Tournament Ground A head suddenly pokes up from the sack by the fence causing Nerta to stumble back in shock. The round dark eyes peer at the oddly hunched stranger with such broad shoulders. "How you know my name?" Wren chirps in her thin, high-pitched voice. “And what noose?” Wren the Watcher (Foederati)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Near the Tournament Grounds Startled by the questions, Nerta catches herself on the fence and draws a knife, which in turn encourages the slender woman to jump back and crouch low. “Crystal-Cursed!” Nerta hisses and tightens her grip on the blade. “Who are you? Know your name? What are you on about…?” “Why knife?” The round eyes blink-blink rapidly. “You call me.” “Call you?” Nerta scowls. This stranger dressed in mottled browns and with an angular nose must have heard her speaking to the Old Man. “Look I don’t know you and I don’t want any trouble. So why don’t we…” The nagging sense that there’s something important she’s missing finally comes into focus. Her dark eyes. Big, round dark eyes like that of a bird. Realisation hits Nerta like the Scyther that first horse. “… Y-You, you’re Foederati.” The slender Wren panics at the word, at being discovered, and hops back again to run. Yet Nerta drops her knife and spreads her arms wide, lifting her cloak. “No please. You’re like me.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Wren the Watcher Message sent to Fronepu City, Near the Tournament Ground Wren gasps. Like her. Like her. Like her. To find someone else, such fortune must be the Twinkling Gaze! “You and me, Foderati. Happy Wren. Who you?” "Wren! You are Wren, which means you must be from the southern forest!” Grinning, Nerta brings a hand to her chest. “I’m from the mountains… the Roof of the World. You can call me Nerta.” Laughter accompanies a fresh hand pushing back short hair, “Another. Another…” The Roof of the World. The slender woman imagines those foreboding peaks and notes how similar they are to this grumpy sister. “Nerta. Ner-ta. Nur-ta. Near-ta. Yes I from forest. Masked One send north. Dark Mistress send Near-ta?” Nerta freezes, as though winter grips her anew. “T-The Masked One? Oh no. Are you also haunted by a ghost?” “No.” The response is abrupt and paired with a confused tilt to Wren’s head. “Ghost. Ah! Talking with ghost before, not me. Where ghost? What ghost?” Nerta sighs and rubs her temple. “That’s a long story. Let’s just say the Dark Mistress made sure I didn’t ignore her quest. A quest that you share?” Wren blink-blinks and nods. “Yes. Maybe. Told go north. Visit Eternal Flame. Long road, but close!” Wren the Watcher (Foederati)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Fronepu City, Near the Tournament Grounds “The Gods are playing games…" Nerta grimaces and bends to collect her knife as the tournament roars to life in the middle of the joust. And they are cruel games indeed… “Well, I’m heading that way too. Come on, I’ll explain more once we’re out of the crowd.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)