Unti Family/Nerta/A1S2
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| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| The Foederati woman had earned a ride in the rumbling cart after saving the horse from a scyther. Hunched over a spear, her cloak pulled tight, she peers about the strange city of towers. Despite the crumbling remains of the outer walls the place was clean, cleaner than Mhed at least. Though that was probably in preparation for the tournament.
A chill draws her attention to the looming stronghold, still marred by the wolf paw, even as she hisses under her breath, “What now?” Twisting about to consider the tournament grounds she nods to herself, before eyeing the repurposed militia barracks anew. She was here for a reason after all, and maybe she could get the proper vantage from a high perch… After all, scuttling into that old stronghold should be child's play. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Aibhlidhn Dubhaine | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| It's good to see knights already arriving for the tourney. Feast and be welcome my friends, the alehouses and dancehalls of Fronepu await your gold and your good humour. | |
| Aibhlidhn Dubhaine (Queen of Ar Agyr, Royal of Ar Agyr, Duchess of Havilmark, Countess of Tepmona) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Best laid plans...
Swinging around her spear to strike down the last rattler, Nerta sighs and inspects the dusty catacombs in flickering torch light. Did the Valentic Order burrow in every city they entered? First Mhed, then Agyr, and now here… Turning toward the chill Nerta rolls her eyes, “Finally done? She couldn’t have been that great of a conversationalist. Well I’ve finished up so let’s head back upstairs where I can get some stew.” Pulling her cloak back around her as she goes, the young Foederati makes her way back above ground toward one of those famed alehouses that everyone was hawking about. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Report from Achille de Medici | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Free beer at the tavern! Knight Achille de Medici invites everyone for a round of drinks at the local taverns, a great show of his lavishness and hospitality. | |
| Achille de Medici (Knight) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Oh great, it’s a party.
When she sat down to her victory stew, the cozy alehouse had only a few patrons, but that had changed quickly once the Patrician swaggered in. Slapping down more money than she’d ever seen, this Achille de Medici had called for a round of drinks. That much beer sloshing around drew in quite the crowd of riotous revelers and within minutes a party was well under way. A party that backed Nerta into a corner.. She’d been jostled by a cutesy couple looking to find a bit of space themselves, and at least one frothy flagon emblazoned with a dragon had been thunked down on her table. At this rate someone was going to ask her to dance or worse! Puffing aside a stray hair and keeping her travel cloak pulled tight, the woman eyes her possible routes of escape: The front door was swamped with people, both coming and going; but she could head upstairs and maybe slip out of a window or something. Taking a moment to eye the stuffed shirt, Nerta rises and makes her way for the stairs. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Nerta had to shove her way through the crowd and duck past a couple in the staircase, but she was able to make it to the top floor despite the calls and shouts of Achille for more beer and the roar that followed.
Wonder what he has to prove? Slipping out with little trouble, the wandering woman makes her way into the city growing ever more festive as the tournament draws near. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Godfrey Greybrook | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| One could find a man studying scrolls and other iconography in a shaded corner of the marketplace, occasionally sending ravens across the continent. Some say he is the priest of blood, others say he preaches the saviour of humanity. Yet, no one would truly know unless they asked the prophet of Vordulism, which none of the peasants anyway dared to ask. | |
| Godfrey Greybrook (Prophet of Vordulism) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Something was strange.
The market platz near Achille's party lacked the usual bustle. Maybe everyone was just in the alehouse but then…. The sudden chill set her hairs on edge, pulling her gaze toward the slender man shaded by the tree in the corner. He was reading, so he was probably noble born, yet he did not look the part of a warrior especially in those robes. But despite all of that there was something else about him that seemed, familiar. Ignoring the chill, Nerta glances around the square and frowns in realization. The Plebeians were leaving the man well alone just like they did for her. How…. typical. In a way it is surreal to feel a kinship with a stranger purely on the grounds that they are both excluded. Thoughts of home brought a familiar melody to her fingers as they drum on her spear, Gods she missed them. Stuck here in these alien lands on the outside just like this stranger. She knew nothing of the man really, and yet it looked as though no one else would take the time to learn of him. Pushing aside the contemplation least the homesickness swells to despair, Nerta wavers. Could she afford a detour? The ache pulls her to at least try but… Twisting again to glance toward the old stronghold, Nerta’s ears twitch. Something.. a trumpet perhaps? Had her quarry arrived? 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 Achille de Medici | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| It was high time for the drinks to continue pouring. | |
| Achille de Medici (Knight) | |
| Roleplay from Godfrey Greybrook | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Once a man too mighty to hold his tongue, silence in the mountains taught restraint to the man known as Godfrey, speaking to groups when deemed correct to do so.
As a noble he did not truly know showered drinks for all, Godfrey humbly accepted the gesture and continued observing the crowds with a form of ale. One stopped to stare, were they noble born? No... probably not as otherwise they would of approached? Yet, peasants and their ilk are needed for the great plan. A turn of the observer's heel saw Godfrey continue to watch the market as the trumpets played in the distance. | |
| Godfrey Greybrook (Prophet of Vordulism) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| So...this was 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 grey beard riding a black charger was probably the leader of the roving band. Looked pretty comfortable in the saddle and there was a wariness about him that reminded her of a cat. Even relaxed, he seemed ready to ambush something. And play with it. Still he was certainly old though. I mean she’d thought the Old Man was just that, but next to this guy he seemed positively spry. Shielding her eyes from the glare Nerta traces his path through town. At last Bob was out from his manor with only a token handful of, admittedly sturdy looking, guards. Not people to mess with but she wasn’t getting much of a choice if she wanted any sleep. Climbing back down she sets her jaw and heads after the man. Time to get this done. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Yxevarii Auru'in | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Silenced by gracefully-donated ale her watchful eyes sweep across the assemblage of banners and oddities. Truly all manner and ilk, attendant nobles provide a bountiful glimpse at Belluaterra's rich cultural tapestry. Sturdy assistants collect last-minute orders for repairs while wenches saunter to and fro with a flowing flagon cupped in each hand. Smiles abound - fueled by the near-endless flood of alcohol - while others ponder in silent isolation. Alone, Yxevarii watches a fellow watcher and wonders why the relic of a man interests her so. Ever the curious one, she drains the last drops of amber, leaves a gold coin upon the table, and takes her sweet time aimlessly wandering in the general direction of those too otherwise engage to preoccupy themselves with ale-drowned banter. | |
| Yxevarii Auru'in | |
| Roleplay from Bob Baceolus | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Having heard of the tournament Bob and his men enter the city of Fronepu to attend the event as observers and representatives of Ar Agyr and the city of Agyr.
Seeing the festivities brings back memories of days when he was able to enter as a participant, although he'd be unlikely to keep up with all the younger knights these days. He makes his way into the city to get settled before heading over to check out the grounds to welcome everybody to Ar Agyr, his men eager for a few days off from travelling the wilderness hunting down rogue forces to enjoy the festivities. | |
| Bob Baceolus (Chancellor of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Trailing after the procession as it winds through the city, Nerta attempts more than once to reach the man and his stallion, but every time she has to break off the approach either due to a group or the guards.
Finally there was a window; his tour of the fairgrounds had only a token force and someone needed to fetch things, so when he called for water for his horse Nerta happily obliged. The sloshing pail was actually fairly large, but she had a solid grip, or three, letting her slide up to the small group at a brisk waddle. Frowning at the final approach the woman wonders how to even begin, it’d been months of work getting to this moment, how to even… An errant splash of water soaks into her cloak causing her to glance down and curse only to turn into a light chuckle at the irritated reflection staring back up at her. Shifting to nod at the empty air, Nerta makes a quick gesture with her head before finally reaching her goal. “Pardon me Patrician, I have your water, and a message from an old friend. Strangely they are one and the same, if you would just take a look.” | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| “Father! I did it! I have an estate!”
Father sat in his study. Mielba bounded towards him, holding the deed. From across the hall she heard her mother’s voice, “Are you certain it is in Ar Agyr this time?” “Yes! Yes! Come see!” Mielba placed the document on her father’s desk as mother ushered in to stand besides him. Father began scrutinizing the paperwork in detail; mother needed only a glance to check the realm and name of the estate. BEYTZIRA, AR AGYR “Bay... tzeera?” she asked. “Y-yes. Chancellor Bob let me name it. He said we could always change it. What do you think?” Lady Cordenata looked outward with a faraway gaze. Eyes closed she moved her head slowly from side to side. She looked back at Mielba and deigned a small nod. Father looked up, “This is a sizeable parcel of land! The Chancellor must have taken a liking to you!” “I daresay so, though mayhaps this is a token of goodwill in light of the embarrassment?” offered mother cautiously. “Oh! Um, neither,” replied Mielba bashfully. “Chancellor Bob explained that giving me this estate would bring in more gold for the realm.” “The Gods have seen to bless you, child,” whispered Father. He carefully made the effort to stand. He was beaming, standing tall and proud, appearing for a moment as he had when she was a child. “Now you are truly a proper noblewoman!” Mother smiled wanly. | |
| Mielba Cordenata (Knight of Agyr) | |
| Roleplay from Bob Baceolus | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Stopping his horse to go touring the tournament grounds, Bob barely pays the slip of a girl any mind as she staggers over with the pail, and even less when she starts talking but then there comes an eerily familiar voice.....
"It is good to see you again old friend. But I must say, the years have not been kind to you, and coming from me that is saying something." Bob casts a sideways glance over at the reflection on the water in the pail. It looks oddly familiar... And so he leans in for a good, long, look. Smiling up from the water is more than Bob's reflection, there is another man with a neatly trimmed beard and somewhat dishevelled hair. His eyes seem to sparkle with violet light so akin to the flame that warmed Bob's city, and when he spoke his voice echoed through the wind. In response Bob lets out a simple harrumph and retorts, "You'll not fool me with the same old illusions, go entertain someone else for your coin." The specter chuckles, "Age took your vigor and sense of humour did it? This sour tone is a far cry from the man who catapulted some zombies into Fallan's party just because things were getting dull." "Oh really, and where have you been? I didn't give you permission to die. That was my job." The reflection laughs, "No it wasn't, unless you're Morgan in which case I take back what I said, you look great for that old bureaucrat." A faint smile seems to creep up on Bob, "Well he had the money, I had the army. So really who was going to overthrow you in a bloody revolt?" "Why neither one of you. Only a fool would want my job, and though you were eccentric, you were never a fool." Nerta mutters and sags under the weight of the bucket, setting the reflection to waver, "Gods... old men won't shut up..." Letting out a sigh, or the ethereal equivalent, the reflection slowly returns to focus, "Don't mind the girl, she tries but...." Trailing off he presses on, "Yes Bob, it's me. Turns out when you steal from the Gods they notice, even if they wait a bit to collect their due." | |
| Bob Baceolus (Chancellor of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr) | |
| Roleplay from Godfrey Greybrook | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| The city was in full swing with the tournament atmosphere, even able to reach the palace where Gustav had been assisting Sworn Elios. Taking advantage of a momentary break in the talks, he set out to explore the old city and see what remained of the ancient realm of Fronen.
As he walked through the outer city, Gustav noticed a small shack, clearly rundown and seemingly abandoned for years. What drew his eyes was not the shack itself, but the golden feather above it's entrance, aged but still intact. He sat 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 put the journal away. Carefully he would enter, praying that the whole edifice wouldn't come down on him. Inside, he saw iconography of a dragon, along with that of an eagle, hawk, and crow. The shack seemed to be barren otherwise, with nothing of value or note. As the place seemed nothing more than a curiosity, he began to make his way out when a glint of something shining beneath the rubble brought his attention. Picking it up, he was surprised to find a necklace with two amulets, that of a golden dragon, and that of a golden feather. Kuriga stared in admiration at the workmanship of the necklace and amulets, before putting them in a pocket. He would have time to study it later, but for now he still had diplomacy to perform. He would much rather be studying the history of this city, but that was fine with him. | |
| Godfrey Greybrook (Prophet of Vordulism) | |
| Roleplay from Elios Everlight | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| The burly sandy-haired knight dismounted just outside the tournament ground, admiring the banners and pennants caught high in the coastal breezes of Fronepu. It was comfortably warm here, the air smelled sweet and salted off the eastern sea. Stout was in fine spirits despite the long ride; the chestnut mare tossed her head and gave him a sidelong glance as though to say, "I know there's a stable in there with oats for me, get a move on!"
Elios led Stout through the gate on foot, presented his admission fee for the tournament to a clerk, and then stepped away confidently and looked about for a stablehand. "You'll be wanting the stable boarding for your mount then, Sir?" came the reedy voice of the clerk just behind him. Elios reddened, then straightened his shoulders and turned. "Why yes, of course." The clerk stood by his small podium, and there was a finely-liveried stable-hand in attendance. Elios didn't know how he could have missed the girl, and he stared at her for several moments. "Cinda will be honoured to see your mount and tack well cared for, Sir." the clerk prompted. "Ah, yes..." the blush of embarrassment was hot under his beard, and Elios handed--nearly threw--the reins to the girl. She caught them deftly and stood at attention, waiting for any instruction. The blonde knight's brows furrowed 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 instruction as to her care." His mouth felt hot and dry, contrasting the palms sweaty with nerves. "S-Stout. She eats whatever. Oats." The knight whirled on his heel and began to depart quickly. He'd gone several steps when another thought occurred. He stopped abruptly and called over his shoulder, "Uh, Thanks," then continued away at a brisk walk to find the nearest tavern. If he hadn't felt the weight of thousands of imagined eyes on him, he would have run. | |
| Elios Everlight (Count of Wailing Woods) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Glaring off at what seems empty air rather than the reflection, Nerta drops the bucket, spilling the water across the parade grounds before biting out, "I tried but; it was pretty heavy."
Turning back to Bob, she ignores the silent chilly retort, "Look I get that you two are having a grand old time catching up but I'm not his Crystal-Maiden-damned 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 Wren the Watcher | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| The shade on the stone front steps of the Long Trough Inn was cool. Peaceful. Wren heard the bustle of the tournament several blocks away, across the square, and she was glad to be far away from it. It made her nervous. Too many highborn. Too many people! She couldn't watch them all! She was staying away, relaxed after paying for a safe sleep in the Inn, and considering maybe even paying an extravagant couple of silver to a street food peddler. Smells good.
Then she heard her name. "...wren twittering on for every hour of the day.” She started, and was on her feet at over to the corner of the building so fast, it was as though she hadn't touched the ground at all. Around the corner, a very old nobleman conversed with a heavily cloaked figure. There was a large bucket on the ground, and a puddle. The cloaked one--a female?--spoke. Nerta lets out a sigh and eventually looks up at the ancient warrior, “Can you help me, please? I just want to go home.” Wren looked curiously at the cloaked one, double-blinked, and double-blinked again. That one moved differently. Familiar somehow. Curious as her namesake, Wren took little hesitant steps out from the building, vaguely in the direction of the pair. Nobody notice Wren. Listening. Watching. | |
| Wren the Watcher (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Mielba Cordenata | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| 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. She took her first sip, making sure to do so when the handsome knight who ordered the rounds looked in her direction. Fronepu‘s famous ale had always been too bitter for her tastes. However, it was considered an insult to refuse Fronenite ale from an Ar Agyrian or anyone within the realm. Within the capital itself, a refusal of the ale might be considered treason. She had never seen anyone refuse. Pouted slightly at the fading foam, she considered her options, then took 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, she added hopefully. Surely if it was made with honey, it could 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 adventurer- 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 wondered if he, too, had regrets from the battlefield. | |
| Mielba Cordenata (Knight of Agyr) | |
| Roleplay from Bob Baceolus | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| "Aldo my old friend. For a wise man you can certainly play the fool... And angering the Gods no less." Bob said laughing to himself, "He always did have a way with the unusual."
"For whatever reason the Gods have chosen to bestow his ghost upon you, after the tournament you are welcome to study the records of the Old Gods still remaining in the Agyrian Academy in my city. The Followers may not be as predominant as they once were but they are still out there in the wilderness, ever watchful for the return of the Children." "Perhaps there you shall find the information you seek," he calls before riding past a twitchy woman off to visit the guests at the tournament as the preparations for the big day draw near. | |
| Bob Baceolus (Chancellor of Ar Agyr, Duke of Agyr) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| 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 had answers, of a sort. Though like any true horror each minor victory became two more questions to wrestle with. The sudden blare of trumpets leaves Nerta to jump, her head whipping around to try and see… Oh! The tournament must be about to begin. Heart racing she scuttles off to hide in the shadow of a low building. Shrouded in relative safety as the parade of patricians begins, she rests her brow against the timber jam and closes her eyes. For once the chill was quiet. For once. After a few more moments she straightens. Agyr it is then. And promptly turns around to crash into Wren. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Wren the Watcher | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| The old nobleman mounted a horse and rode off without another word to the cloaked one. Wren paused in her approach. Then trumpets sounded, and she fled back to the shade. Curled up against the bottom of the wall in her mottled brown cloak, she may as well have been a little burlap sack of flour.
The cloaked one scuttled to hide by the wall as well. They--she?--did not seem to notice the Wren. The little adventurer opened her round dark eyes to peer up at the oddly hunched stranger. Blink-blink. Such broad shoulders. The figure stood up straight, and startled Wren, who also stood, leaning back away from the creature. It whirled and crashed into her. Wren was thrown a step backward, she flung her arms out to the sides and flapped them to catch herself, then crouched defensively, looking at the woman with wide alert eyes. The face she saw was dusky, grumpy. Haunted. "How you know my name?" Wren chirped in her thin, high-pitched voice. | |
| Wren the Watcher (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Elios Everlight | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Elios reclined on the bench at the edge of the tournament ground with several others. He was breathing heavily from the exertion of the joust, rolling his shoulder experimentally. Not a bad showing for his first tournament. Though after years of monopolizing the family sword-fighting coach he's have thought he'd do better than fourth round.
He tossed his sandy brown hair back and ran both hands through it, then scratched his sweaty beard. Maybe there was time for one more round at the tavern. He stood and stretched, armor unbuckled and hanging carelessly halfway off his shoulders. A face turned in his direction caught his eye. He looked sidelong to see who it was. The Dame who had bought a round the first night! Cordenata? ...was staring at him. He looked away from her and straight ahead pointedly, cleared his throat, and made as though to beat a hasty retreat. | |
| Elios Everlight (Count of Wailing Woods) | |
| Roleplay from Mulki Laraak | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Peers out from behind the bush, gazing intently toward Wren and Nerta. "Frands...?" | |
| Mulki Laraak (Adventurer) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Pickpocket!
Clutching her meager purse Nerta scowls up at the would-be-thief, “Your name? What are you on about…?” The sudden jolt had sent her sprawling into the dirt, but the fluttering step of the stranger was, familiar. Blinking a few times herself Nerta pulls back her hood and slowly begins to sit up, even as the stranger hops back. "You… are of the Tribes,” wide eyes roam, “Southern forest? I-I have not seen anyone for months.” A sharp move brings a hand to her chest, “I’m from the mountains… the Roof of the World.” The stranger’s eyes go wide, head cocked to one side at the mention of the Roof of the World. Laughter accompanies a fresh hand pushing back short hair, “Another. Another…” Rising from her balanced sprawl, Nerta clambers to her feet to step closer, reaching for the stranger, “But your name! I don’t know your name, I’m sorry, but have we met? I’m Nerta...” The strange woman seems skittish, shrinking away even as she mimics, “Neear-taaa? Nairrrr-ta? Nerta? Nerta” Nerta pauses at the reaction to her enthusiasm and pulls her hands back, fingers curling into her palms, “Were, were you listening to my conversation about...?” Nerta’s gaze darts to the side towards the chilly presence as she trails off. Taking a moment to adjust her cloak and regain that hunched posture, Nerta sighs, “I can explain…” The rest was cut off as yet another presence pops out of the undergrowth leaving Nerta to clutch her cloak tight. Ambush. | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Mulki Laraak | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Mulki saunters out of the bushes - or at least, that's how it went in her mind. In reality, she half-stumbles only to fall face-first into the mud. As she gets up and brushes the offending goop out of her eyes, she waves at the assembled adventurers and manages a sheepish grin. "Uhh... Hai. Is it safe for us to come out now? Are the nobles gone?" | |
| Mulki Laraak (Adventurer) | |
| Roleplay from Wren the Watcher | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Wren’s mind was racing, circling. Roof of the World. Another. Another like me!
A second wordy stranger fell out of the bushes and into the wet ground nearby. Wren’s heart was already racing so this time, she did not jump. She looked sharply at the newcomer. "Uhh... Hai. Is it safe for us to come out now? Are the nobles gone?” Blink-blink. Nod. Then Wren looked back to Nerta and spoke again in the delicate, high-pitched voice. “Nerta. Don’t know you. But familiar. You said wren. I am Wren. Southern Forest by plains. Tree Shaper.” The words were melodious, delivered in short bursts. She paused for a breath, and continued. “Only heard wren. Followers, Children. Who old man?” The lightly-built young woman stood up from her crouch and shook out her shoulders, the dappled brown cloak rustling, and looked from Nerta to the other and back. | |
| Wren the Watcher (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Mulki Laraak | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Smiling warmly, Mulki gestures toward Nerta and Wren before dropping two wrapped packages on the ground between them.
She points to one from whose corners a tuft of fur erupts, and then to Nerta. "Gift for new frand." The other, wrapped in carefully-laid moss, she lays closer to Wren with a humble bow. "For forest frand." | |
| Mulki Laraak (Adventurer) | |
| Roleplay from Wren the Watcher | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Wren blink-blinked at the newcomer (Mulki) again, and at the mossy parcel. “Thank you? Who are you?” she chirped. “From wild family too?” She looked pointedly to Nerta. "We are wild family. Far cousins. Travel together?" | |
| Wren the Watcher (Foederati) | |
| Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in Fronepu | |
| Nerta pinches her nose as eyes dart from one strange figure to the other. Why was nothing in this world ever simple? She wanted the shade gone, but yet he lingered. She had finally found one of her people after so many months, here of all places Yet… she had found another as well. A strange one even by the standards of the ‘civilized’ folk.
The gods are playing games... Nerta grimaces through the chilly shade to Mulki. And they are cruel games indeed... But the tournament would be even more crowded, and she’d had enough of crowds for one day. It was time to move on, to get those answers Bob had promised. Eventually she lets out a sigh and waves the two to follow, "I will explain on the way, I need to get to Agyr." | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
