Revan Family/Alia/Roleplay
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (69 recipients) Alia Revan stood in a field nearby, watching the manor burn. Alia was a beautiful girl, age 15, with long jet-black hair. She had been lucky to escape with her life; when the Fontan troops came in, swords drawn, she had been able to hide in a small nook under the stairs. Her parents, however, had not been so lucky. Alia had watched from her hiding place as they were brutally hacked down by Fontan soldiers. She did not shed a tear, and if she had, it would have been of joy. And so there she stood, in the grassy field; watching the once-mighty castle slowly reduced to ashes and dust. She had nothing with her but some bloody smoke-stained clothes, and her father's old sword. It was then a thought came to her mind: "what am I going to do now?" She had no gold, no food, and no place to stay. Alia could hear her stomach growling, and decided that first, she had better get something to eat. Then, she could worry about everything else. To Alia's relief, the kitchen, which was not attached to the main building, had escaped the consuming flames. A few blows from the sword brought the flimsy wooden door down, and she stepped inside. Not looking, she almost tripped over the body of the late cook, who was lying face-down in a pool of her own blood. A large window, obviously the point of entry, was shattered, and the cook held a frying pan in her cold hand. “Nothing to whet your appetite like the sight of death,” Alia said to herself, trying to force a smile. She thought about this for a moment, turned to the corner, and threw up. When Alia was done vomiting she began her search for food, trying to ignore the blood spattered all over the room. Digging through the cupboards she filled a small bag with fruit and moldy bread. The soldiers had taken most everything else. When she was done, she headed down the stairs to the wine cellar. Unsurprisingly, the door had been smashed in, and most of the bottles were either broken or missing. “Those soldiers must have stolen a small fortune worth of alcohol,” Alia thought. ”They're going to drink like Kings tonight.” A short search revealed one remaining bottle of...”Grape Juice?” Alia frowned. “Who puts grape juice in a wine cellar?” She took a look at the date on the bottle. “Ooh, it's probably fermented by now anyway.” Putting the grape juice in her bag, she left the building, carefully averting her eyes from the body on the floor. Walking back to her spot on the field, Alia stuffed down the bread and fruit, chasing it with the ancient grape juice. The taste was foul, but at this point she could care less. When Alia was done she let out a very unladylike belch, then instinctively covered her mouth and raised her arm defensively, half expecting a solid beating from her father. When none came, she let out a small chuckle, and looked back towards the burning mansion. The fire had reached the third story, and she waited patiently for the explosion of flame that would be her father's hidden liquor stash. KABOOM! Fire shot towards the sky, and Alia smiled grimly. Then the question returned: “What am I going to do now? I'm in hostile, bandit-infested lands, two days from the nearest town, and I just ate all the food I had.” She thought of the family's horses, but a glance towards the stables shattered her hopes. The soldiers had stolen the good ones, and killed the rest. “Well, it looks like I'm walking.” Alia turned to leave, but then remembered something she had forgotten, and stopped. Lying back in the long grass, Alia continued to watch the fire burn. Once the flames had died down, having nothing left to consume, Alia cautiously made her way into the ruins of the building. The roof had collapsed in many places, but the stone walls and ceilings still held strong. Luckily, the room she needed to get to was completely intact. The manor had been an old castle, back in Sirion's glory days. It was cold, large, and foreboding. Now, of course, it was just an empty shell, but it still stood proudly, guarding the abandoned road from barbarian hordes and Avamarians. As with most castles, this one had an armory, where all the weapons and armor were kept for the garrison. Solid steel doors, thick reinforced stone walls, and most importantly, fireproof. But this one was special in the fact that it was completely hidden, probably meant for times of dire need. It was in here that Alia hid her few valuable possessions, and where she used to hide herself when her father was in a really bad mood. It was the only room in the house in which she had been safe. It had been an incredible stroke of luck in which Alia had discovered the armory. She was eight at the time, and was skipping down the corridors of the old castle. She was forbidden by her parents to skip, giggle, or do anything that looked remotely fun for a child to do. But Alia was rebellious, even as an eight year-old. As she skipped down the hall, one of the stones under her foot moved, and she lost her balance and toppled down. She threw her hands out in front of her to protect herself, and they both hit two seemingly normal stones in the wall. There was a clicking noise. Alia stood at the same spot, or at least, she thought it was the same. The smoke had finally cleared out, but now the stone walls were charred black, and there were few recognizable signs. She felt around on the floor for a few minutes, until she found the sliding stone. Pushing it with her foot, she touched the wall with both hands, and heard the satisfying click. The wall in front of her slid aside, revealing a large room, full of racks of rusty pikes, swords, and armor. She threw her father's sword carelessly aside, she didn't need this crude blade. She then walked over to the far corner of the room, picked up a cloth bundle, and carefully began to unwrap it. Inside the bundle were two beautifully forged blades. They had been sent all the way from the Colonies by her older brother Evil, as a present for her 13th birthday; delivered secretly, of course. He said they were forged by the finest smiths in Dark Citadel, and that a young girl needed to be able to defend herself, “especially with those wretched creatures in the same house”. He was, of course, referring to their parents. Alia missed Evil; she hadn't heard from him in a long time, and worried. She turned the weapons over in her hand. One was a dagger, easily concealed, and the other a slim longsword. Both had matching hilts, sheaths, and blades. The blades themselves were made of a strange blueish-tinted metal, which was always cool to the touch, and almost seemed to glow in the night. They must have cost her brother a small fortune. There was also a light chainmail shirt that she had found in the armory, a hooded black cloak (a gift from her brother again), and a dusty book. Alia took off her bloody shirt, and threw it to the side. She pulled the chainmail over her head, shivering as the cold metal touched her skin. Alia then strapped the sword on her back, and the dagger to her left forearm. That was another trick her brother had taught her. Putting the cloak on so that the hood half-covered her eyes, Alia glanced at her reflection in a polished shield. She smiled. “I dare someone to try and rob me tonight.” She slid the book into her pocket and left, carefully closing the wall behind her. Once Alia was back in the fresh air and could think clearly again, she considered her situation once more. She could make it to the town of Tabost, if only barely, but what then? She had no gold, no food, and no shelter. She could sell the chainmail for a few coins maybe; but at most that would buy food for a day or two, and a cheap room to rest in. And she wouldn't dream of selling any of her other possessions, not unless it meant life or death. ”Think, Alia, think! You're just a little girl. Your nobility means nothing here. What are you going to do?” She considered searching the ruins of the manor. There had to be gold in there, or something she could sell. But the image of the dead cook returned to her mind, and she felt like she might throw up again. ”Uh-uh. I'm not going back in there.” A name was floating on the edge of her mind. A name that could help her, save her. She remembered how her parents spat the name whenever they used it, a look of pure contempt on their faces. It was a relative, and more importantly, one who had been disowned by the family. “Alain!” Alia said out loud, startling herself. “My cousin.” From what she had overheard from her parents, Alain was pretty high up on Sirion's food chain, and they despised him for it. She would find Alain, and pray that he would help her. And so Alia set out towards a distant light, which she knew to be the town of Tabost. The route there was a long and winding one, full of bandits, wolves, and other dangers. But she was far stronger than she appeared, and determined more than anything else to live. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (70 recipients) Alia awoke to feel something cold and wet touching her face. “Stop...that tickles” she laughed, and then realizing where she was, opened her eyes slowly. The eyes of a bear looked back at her, it's wet nose touching her forehead. It took all of Alia's self-control not to scream right there. All she did was return the curious gaze, trying to communicate the fact that she was not food. Her mind was racing, thinking of what to do. She knew she had heard something, somewhere, about what to do when faced with a bear. “Am I supposed to try and look big and intimidating, or small and harmless? I don't know which, and it sure as Hades can't be both.” Alia gave up thinking, and mustering all her strength, hit the bear over the head with the hilt of her sword. Metal met bone with a satisfying Crack, and the bear wobbled backwards, stunned. Then, once it had gotten it's bearings straight, it turned into the woods and fled. She stared with her mouth open as the bear faded into the distance. Alia started to giggle slightly, and began laughing harder and harder, until she was literally rolling in the mud. She hadn't laughed this hard in her life. “Now that, is a story no one will believe. I just beat a bear.” When Alia had finally recovered from her fit of laughter, she got up, gathered her things, and continued down the trail. She couldn't tell if that was mud in her pants, or she had soiled herself. It was probably better not knowing anyway. After a few more miles of mud, Alia turned onto a worn cobblestone road. “Finally,” she thought. ”I can start making decent time.” The sun was shining, a pleasant breeze was blowing, and it was quite a nice day. But Alia's good mood vanished when she saw the sign. It was an ordinary sign, with one arrow pointing to Trinbar, and the other to Tabost. But below that, there was a third sign nailed to the post, with words crudely carved into it with the blade of a knife. “This roade is propurty of the Blacke Thum Gainge. Yew Pay the toll, ore I brake yer skull. “Ah, a clever highwayman,” Alia smiled to herself. “Now that's a first.” But her smile quickly faded when a masked figure emerged from the bushes, carrying an axe in one hand, and a sword in the other. He looked intimidating; 6 feet tall, big, muscular, and a sock over his head with two eye holes cut out. The overall impression was someone she did not want to mess with. “Halt!” said the man in a deep voice, holding his hand out in the appropriate gesture. Alia wanted to say “I'm already halted,” but decided that being a smart-ass now was a very good way to get killed. “I am the black thumb.” Alia couldn't help herself this time. “Just you? I guess you were four fingers short of a black hand.” “Ha Ha,” said the masked man sarcastically. “I don't get that one often enough. You know, it's not easy to be a gang all by yourself.” “I bet,” said Alia, feigning empathy. “Now, if you don't mind, I'll just be...” “Did you read the sign?” The man said, this time more threateningly. “Err....well, I just thought since I don't have any gold that....” “That you could just walk away? I wouldn't let a pretty little girl like you get away that easily. There are other ways you can pay me...” The masked man's lips formed a twisted smile. Alia's blade pierced the man's chest, sliding smoothly between the ribs. He looked down slowly at the hilt protruding from him, and then looked up into her face. There was nothing but coldness in her eyes. Alia pulled the blade out, and the body fell limply to the ground. She then proceeded to vomit by the signpost. ”Oh gods,” she thought. ”I just killed a person.” Once Alia was done vomiting, she began to think about her own survival again. ”The man's wearing boots, isn't he?” They were big boots, and Alia had very small feet. But they were swollen to the point that the boots fit almost perfectly. The sign had said 4 miles to Tabost, so she didn't have much longer to walk at least. The dead man's smile still burned in her mind. “He was a sick bastard, he deserved to die,” she told herself. But she had killed him. Without hesitation, she had plunged her sword into him, and ended his life. She felt like throwing up again, but held it in. She had searched the man's pockets, and found a small bag of gold, no doubt stolen. That would be enough to get her through the day at least. “He would have raped me. I had to.” That seemed enough to convince Alia, and she pushed the man's smile out of her mind. ”Another story no one will believe...I just wiped out the Black Thumb gang.” Alia saw the town of Tabost in the distance; she was almost there. And it was only midday, she had made good time. She decided to stop by the banks of the Sirion river and wash up before she reached town. She must look like a swamp monster. Taking her clothes off, she dove into the cool water, and washed the mud and blood away. The water stung as it entered her many cuts and wounds. She would have to see a healer first thing when she got into town. The last thing Alia wanted was an infection. When Alia got out of the river, she noticed a fisherman staring at her. She gave him a venomous glare, and he quickly turned his attention back to the fish. ”Amazing what a good glare can do,” Alia thought. She washed her clothes quickly, and put them back on. She would have to get new ones as soon as she hit town. She tried to pull the boots onto her swollen feet, but gave up, and left them at the river. Only a short walk left, and then, she could finally have a day to rest and recover.... As Alia entered the town of Tabost, she knew almost immediately that something was not right. The streets were empty, doors and windows were barred, and if not for the occasional glimmer of light, she would have thought it a ghost town. As she neared the town square, she heard the sound of marching feet. She ducked into an alleyway, and watched as an armed patrol of Fontan soldiers marched by. “Damn,” she muttered. “More of 'em” It had been a long time since Alia had last been to Tabost (or left the family manor at all, for that matter). But she could remember the layout of the town somewhat. The town healer should be just a few blocks away. Waiting until the sound of marching footsteps receded into the distance, Alia pulled her hood over her face, and dashed to the other side of the street. Running through a garden, she ducked behind a shrubbery as another Fontan patrol marched by. Once they were out of sight, she ran across the narrow road, and banged on the door in front of her. “OPEN UP! For the gods sake, open this door!” A small hatch slid aside, and a pair of beady eyes looked her up and down. Then, the hatch closed, and the door opened. A short, fat man beckoned her to come in quickly, then closed the door before anyone could see. As if reading her thoughts, the man spoke. “Fontan has declared martial law, anyone caught out without authorization is punished severely.” Alia nodded. “Just bandage me up, and don't ask me where the wounds came from.” She threw two gold pieces on the table, thought for a moment, and then put down a third. “I need information as well. I'm going to need food, drink, clothing, and a bed to rest in for the night. Where can I get these?” The man smiled, and motioned for her to follow him into a back room. It was bare, with a simple bed, a table, and a wardrobe. “Times is hard for a healer. I can rent you the room for two gold. I'm a bad cook, but better than most. And,” The man threw open the wardrobe. “Take yer pick.” “You're a Jack of all trades,” said Alia, cracking a smile. The man looked taken aback. “My name's Dennis.” She decided not to comment on that. “Now let's have a look at your wounds...” |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (70 recipients) Once Alia's wounds were dressed, she felt a lot better. The poultice did a lot to ease the pain. She hadn't realized the extent of the pain until she was able to rest; it was intense. Adrenaline alone must have kept her going all this time. Pain aside, the main thing on Alia's mind right now was food. She hadn't had a full meal in nearly two days. Judging by the smell wafting from the kitchen, the healer was one step ahead of her. She glanced down at her torn clothes, which were stained with a mix of smoke, mud, blood, and sweat. ”I might as well get some clean clothes on while I'm waiting.” Opening the wardrobe in the back room, Alia was surprised to see the healer had a decent selection. Most were peasants work clothes, but she didn't mind. She was able to find some durable leather clothing that was reasonably comfortable, and a pair of good-fitting boots. Alia put the clothes on, and looking in a mirror, decided they would have to do. She pulled the chain mail over her head, and strapped on her sword and dagger. Then, throwing the black cloak over her shoulder, she let her nose carry her to the kitchen. The healer had lied. He was a terrible cook, but Alia didn't care. She woofed down everything he put in front of her; bacon, bread, cheese, potatoes. Ignoring the healer's protests about her age, she gulped down a mug of ale, and followed it with some cool well water. Alia then let out a loud burp, and this time, she didn't cover for fear of her father's wrath. Freedom felt good. Alia thanked the healer for the meal, then returned to her room. Not even bothering to take her weapons or armor off, Alia sunk into the bed, and closed her eyes. It was in the middle of the night when Alia awoke. The healer's snoring could be heard three rooms away. Silently, Alia crept through the doorway into the kitchen. She had scouted the room out while she ate, and knew where to find what she needed. She quickly grabbed a lantern, some matches, and filled a small bag with provisions for her trip. Then, leaving a generous sum of gold on the table to pay for it all, she crept out into the night. Alia met little trouble on her way out of town. Most of the night watch was solidly drunk, and the few sober ones failed to notice a black-clad figure sneak by. She stayed off the main road until she was a safe distance away from the town. Fumbling for a match in the darkness, Alia lit the small lantern. She was thankful for the light. Alia turned her attention to the road. She had never been any further than the town of Tabost, and these parts were unfamiliar to her. Her parents had practically kept her as a prisoner, and rarely allowed her to leave the family manor. ”I really wish I had a map,” Alia thought. She remembered the old map of Sirion her parents kept in the drawing room. It was made quite a while back, when Sirion spanned from Tallbar to Oligarch. Borders had changed since then, towns were no longer where they used to be, and she couldn't remember much of it anyway. But Trinbar, Alia knew, was big. There were bound to be ways for her to pick up a few pieces of silver, and information. Alia hoped that throwing the name “Alain” around in Trinbar could give her some idea of where, and who he was. She really knew very little about the man. She knew he was her cousin, and that he had been disowned by the family after a disagreement. Her parents had loathed him, and that was always a good sign of a decent person. That was about the extent of her knowledge. She remembered seeing him, once, when she was young. But that was so many years ago. Alia was interrupted from her reverie by a rustling noise, and stopped dead. Something, or someone, was moving in the bushes ahead of her. Whatever it was, it was big. Cautiously, Alia moved her hand to the hilt of her sword. Grasping the weapon firmly, but keeping it out of sight, Alia slowly inched her way towards the noise. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (70 recipients) Out of the brush stepped another wolf-like creature. This one was smaller and less vicious-looking, with gray fur instead of black. However, when it bared it's fangs, it looked just as deadly. It pawed the ground, waiting. The two creatures eyed each other cautiously, waiting for the other to make the first move. The one on top of Alia was the first to give, and rearing back on it's haunches, it jumped into the air, propelling itself towards the other. Alia watched as the two monsters became a snarling ball of fur; rolling, biting, clawing. It seemed the larger one was getting the upper hand at first, but the smaller one had speed, and was using that to it's advantage. Finally, the large one let out a high-pitched yelp, and turning it's tail, it fled into the night. The smaller creature turned it's attention to Alia. Pacing up and down, it looked her over with piercing white eyes. Then, apparently having made it's decision, it turned around and trotted away. Alia lay there, stunned. When she had regained control of herself, she went to find her sword. After a short search, she found it sticking blade-first into the ground fifteen feet away. She moved to put it back in it's sheath, and felt something wet and warm on her shoulder. She glanced down, and saw that her sleeve was soaked in blood. The claws had pierced deeper than she thought. Alia winced. The cloth bag Alia carried her food in made a decent tourniquet, and was able to stop the bleeding. She had already lost a lot of blood, however, and was starting to feel a bit woozy and lightheaded. Alia knew she couldn't go back to the healer in Tabost, not after she had sneaked out in the middle of the night, and stolen his things. She had paid for them at least, but it just didn't feel right. ”I only hope I can make it to Trinbar before....” The world began spinning around her, and Alia fainted on the ground. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (70 recipients) “She's stone dead she is.” “How can you know fer sure?” “Look at all the blood, no one could survive that.” “Plenty of people could, my uncle said once....” “Your uncle's daft!” “You could try, uh, checking her heartbeat.” “Oh look at you, the big fancy doctor. Shall we get to the corpse-robbing, or not?” “Right.” Alia kept her eyes closed, and controlled her breathing. ”Scavengers,” she thought. “Judging by the voices, only two of them.” Slowly, Alia reached her hand behind her back, and picked up a sharp rock off the ground. Keeping it concealed, she readied herself. “Ooh, what do we have 'ere? Looks like the lass was armed” Alia felt a tugging on her sword hilt, and opening her eyes, brought the rock smashing down on the perpetrator's hand. The man screamed in pain, and backed away. Alia took the opportunity to draw her dagger, which she held out threateningly. She saw two frightened men standing above her; they were simple farmers, and weren't at all ready for a corpse to put up a fight. One of them was making signs to ward off demons, the other, more practical one, was eying the dagger cautiously. “Drop anything that belongs to me, and leave,” Alia hissed through gritted teeth. “Now!” The men obediently dropped what they had taken, and ran. After a few failed attempts, Alia was able to pull herself to her feet. Her whole body ached. She glanced up at the sun, hiding behind a patch of dark clouds. “It must be midday already.” Limping around, she gathered her scattered belongings. Most of her food was gone, animals must have gotten to it while she slept. ”Well, it could be worse...” she thought. ”It could be raining.” As if waiting for it's cue, thunder boomed in the distance. ”I better find shelter before the storm hits.” With that on her mind, Alia began to limp her way towards Trinbar. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (70 recipients) Walking down the street, Alia began searching for an inn to spend the night. She needed somewhere cheap, as she was running low on coin. ”The Kings Head....too royal. Lord Snobbingtons House of Fine Alcoholic Beverages and Lodging....too pricey. The Beggar's Palace....” Alia stopped a moment to look at the run-down shack. It's walls appeared to be held together in places by mud. She laughed to herself silently. “Alright, I can definitely afford better than that.” Alia continued walking for some time. “Fat Fred's...that looks...reasonably disreputable.” She opened the door, letting light spill out into the street, and stepped in. The place was crowded; so many people trying to get out of the rain and into a mug of ale. Alia pushed and shoved her way to the counter, nearly crying out when someone bumped into her wounded shoulder. She gritted her teeth until the pain subsided, and then walked up to the bar. Behind the bar there was a very large inkeeper, whom Alia could only assume was Fred. He was a tall, round man, with a thick black beard. Once Alia got his attention, she spoke. “I'd like a room for the night.” She looked at the grimy bar, and quickly added, “a clean one.” The man let out a deep laugh. “Oahahaha. Clean! And what else would you like, your royal highness, a golden throne?” A multitude of snappy comments went through Alia's head, but she decided to remain silent, and wait until the fat man was done laughing. “Whew. I can give you a room for five silver coins. Make it six silver, and I'll even go and stomp the roaches meself,” the man fell into another fit of laughter. Alia dropped five coins on the counter. “Just give me the key,” she said in an annoyed tone. “It's been a long day, and if you want to play games with me, I'll find another place to stay.” “Right, here y'are, room six,” he said, handing her the key. “Watch out fer the dead cat on yer way in. Molly still hasn't cleaned that up, and it's been there over three weeks.” The fat man fell off his stool laughing, and Alia walked away to find her room. She wondered if anyone found that man funny besides himself. When she entered the room, Alia was surprised to see that it was actually decent. There was no dead cat; the room smelled bad, but tolerable; the bed sheets were clean-ish; and she only saw one roach, which she quickly put out of it's misery with a jab from her dagger. Overall, far better than she expected. After examining the room, Alia sat on the bed, undressed, and began to take a look at her wounds. Amazingly, most of the bandages from the healer in Tabost were still holding up, even after all Alia had been through since then. He must have done an excellent job. Even still, they were beginning to soak through with blood, and needed to be changed. And the makeshift coverings on her shoulder and arm did little but stop the bleeding. Alia decided she would need to see a proper healer the next day. But first, rest. Throwing her wet clothes over the end of the bed to dry, Alia closed her eyes, and quickly fell asleep. Alia woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Breakfast was going on downstairs, and she could hear her stomach growling. She quickly dressed herself, strapped on her weapons, and headed downstairs. Flagging down the nearest bar wench, she ordered some food and drink, then found and empty table in a corner to sit at. The food arrived, and Alia ate ravenously, finishing it within a few minutes. She then began to survey the crowd. ”This place is a treasure trove of information,” she thought. ”I just have to extract fact from rumor and nonsense. Hopefully, I can at least learn something about the whereabouts of my cousin.” Alia saw three soldiers wearing Sirion colors, and walking over to them, she struck up a conversation. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (67 recipients) After Alia had given up trying to extract information, she visited a local healer, and had her wounds cleaned and dressed once again. Pain was now a constant thing for her, but she could handle pain. Her parents had taught her well in that respect at least. Alia had a cheap lunch, consisting of some “mystery meat” she bought at the marketplace, and a loaf of bread. She decided not to eat anything with “mystery” in it's name ever again. It tasted like wood. When she was done eating, she chatted with people around the marketplace, and once again, found out absolutely nothing useful. ”And now”, Alia thought, ”where am I going to go next?” Trinbar was obviously not the place to find a noble with whom she could speak. An idea struck Alia, ”What better place to find a noble than in their capital city, Sirion.” If she remembered correctly, it was just across the river from Trinbar, and should be an easy trip, considering the road was so heavily traveled. Alia had never seen a city, having spent most of her life in Tabost, but she heard tales. ”Yes, Sirion is where I will go.” He mind set, Alia asked the gate guard for directions, then headed off down the main road to Sirion. The trip to Sirion was rather uneventful. The road was well-traveled, and patrolled by soldiers, making crime almost nonexistent. As she neared the Sirion River Bridge, Alia couldn't help but gasp in awe when she caught her first glimpse of the city. The sheer size of it was simply overwhelming, even from such a distance. The towering white spires and massive stone walls seemed to dwarf their surroundings. And she was told the city went on for miles. ”A girl could get lost in there, and never find her way out.” When Alia arrived at the main gates, the guards there were more rigorous in their questioning than the ones in Trinbar. “What is your business here in Sirion? Are you, or have you ever been, a Fontanese spy? Where's your mother and father?” (Alia loathed it when people asked her that one). She stuck with the visiting her sick aunt story, and after answering the questions, the guards let her past. ”Is the security always this tight?” she wondered. Alia grabbed a quick bite to eat from one of the many street vendors. It was soggy bread with ham on it. Still, it was better than the “mystery meat” from Trinbar at least. Taking careful note of her surroundings to ensure she wouldn't get lost, Alia wandered off into the crowded city streets. She had no idea where she was going, or even what she was looking for, she just let her feet carry her. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (59 recipients) As Alia continued walking, it became obvious that she had indeed drawn attention. She had a nagging suspicion she was being shadowed, and if she turned around quickly enough, she could sometimes see a dark figure before it faded out of sight. The street she was walking along turned out to be a dead end. Alia turned to head back, but a man stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path. He was tall, brutish-looking, and carried a makeshift spiked club; a heavy board with nails in it. The man smiled wickedly. "Dammit," she thought. "I've seen that same twisted smile before. Are all male criminals the same?" "You lost, little girl?" the man said, a smile still on his lips. Alia replied sweetly, "Oh yes, kind sir. I would be ever so grateful if you could give me directions. You see, I'm not from around here, and I came to Sirion to see my sick aunt. She's very ill." "Oh don't worry, I'll help you find your sick aunt," he said, his voice reeking of sarcasm. "But first, tell me, what's a little girl like you doing on this side of town? There are bad people around here, and I would hate to see a pretty little fing like you get hurt." The man began to advance, and Alia decided to drop the act. "You come one step closer," she hissed, "and I swear I will cut you down where you stand." "Oh, this kitten has claws. Alright, boys!" The man whistled, and out of the darkness behind him stepped two thugs, each brandishing similar makeshift weapons. "We're gonna have fun with you tonight," one said. As the three of them began to advance, Alia drew her sword, it's blade gleaming in the dim light. "I'd stop right now and turn around if I were you," she said calmly, gripping the sword with sweaty hands. " "Wot, for a little girl carrying her daddy's old sword?" said the apparent leader. "I bet you don't even know how to use it." The two henchmen looked slightly uneasy, and Alia decided to play on this. "This blade is my own, and probably the finest you will ever see. I was trained in it's use by one of the greatest swordsmen ever to grace these shores. I'm telling you, you're getting into far more than you bargained for." Alia assumed the fighting position that had become so familiar to her throughout her years of training. "Wait until they make the first move, incapacitate them, and run." The two thugs looked even more uncertain now, but the leader kept his cool. "Shame to put such a pretty little fing to waste. Well boys, what do ya think? Should I keep her head as a trophy?" He was in range now, and bringing his club over his head, he swung the unwieldy weapon towards her. Alia gracefully dodged out of the way, and delivered a swift kick between the legs that left the man sprawling on the ground. She swung her sword skillfully, letting the blade stop less than an inch from his neck. Giving him a dark smile, Alia shoved one of the stunned thugs out of her way, and ran. Her survival instincts took over; she ran for what seemed like hours, dodging crates and obstacles, hopping fences. Yet still they followed her. She could hear their footsteps pounding behind. There were at least five of them now, and they were slowly gaining on her. She was fast, but they knew this part of the city well, knew all of the shortcuts and hiding places. "I must have pissed off an entire gang." Alia squeezed through a narrow alleyway into a wider street, and heard the footsteps pass by and die into the distance. Alia breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She slumped down against a wall, panting. She was just catching her breath when she saw the six men round the corner in front of her. They formed a wall, blocking her means of escape. Still gasping for air, unable to stand, Alia realized she was at their mercy. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (59 recipients) Suddenly, soldiers were everywhere. The six men were tackled to the ground; disarmed; and their hands tied behind their backs. The last thing Alia wanted to do was stick around, lest she be mistaken for one of them. Summoning her every last bit of strength, she sprang to her feet, and ran down the street away from the soldiers. However, she failed to look where she was running, and collided head-on with a young nobleman, knocking them both to the ground. As Alia prepared to bolt, she caught a quick glimpse of the man, and froze. He was young, possibly in his early twenties, with thick brown hair and dark eyes. His height was unremarkably average. His face was sharp and narrow, very unlike the fat noble merchants that used to frequent the family manor in Tabost. "Kind of handsome, really" Alia thought. He wore a flowing red cape, an ornate breastplate, and a sword. But it was the breastplate that caught Alia's attention, and made her stop dead. On it's battle-worn surface, she could clearly make out the Revan Family crest. "Alain?" she said cautiously. "So, you run into me on the street, and we're already on a first-name basis?" Alain said smugly. "I would expect at least 'Lord Revan, Count of Glinmar' from a peasant girl such as yourself." The words hung in the air like ice. Alia paused, unsure of what to say. She had never planned this far ahead; she never really expected to make it this far. Finally, she drew herself up, and spoke. "I am no peasant. I am Alia, daughter of Hans and Maleficia Revan." Alain looked at her incredulously. "No," he said. "You're not. Alia died five years ago, in an unfortunate horseback-riding accident. I have a letter that proves it. You're just another beggar trying to get a piece of my pie." "So that's what the old hags told you?" Alia said angrily. "I'm still very much alive." Alain smiled, "I'm sure you are. But the question here is, is Alia? Since nobody was invited to the funeral, and those old dogs have a penchant for lying to get their way, I'll bite. Prove to me you are who you claim." Without hesitation, Alia lifted her left sleeve, revealing a strangely-shaped birthmark just below her elbow. "A fox," Alain said smiling. "Let's walk." By now a crowd of soldiers had gathered around them to see what was going on. Alain pulled the captain aside, and said something Alia couldn't quite make out. Then, he and Alia walked down the empty street. Once they were out of earshot of the soldiers, Alain spoke. "It's good to see you're alright....I apologize for doubting you. Ever since I became banker, it seems everyone has a sob story that can only be fixed by gold. I only assumed you were just another one of the leeches." "That's alright," Alia grinned. "I wouldn't believe me either." "So tell me, what on earth were you doing in the slums of Sirion, being chased by an entire gang no less? Why aren't you still in the family home in Tabost?" Alia sighed. "My tale is indeed quite long and extraordinary, and would be better told over a mug of ale." "I'm afraid I don't have the time," Alain said disappointedly. "I need to be on my way to Glinmar within the hour...." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Come with me. We can talk on the way. I haven't seen you since you were eight, so we've got around seven years to catch up on. Come on, I'll buy you a horse," Alain grinned. "How could I refuse that." Alia thought. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (59 recipients) The two of them rode out towards Dolmbar, sharing tales, and talking about current events which Alia knew nothing about. She feigned interest nonetheless. Alia carefully avoided the topic of the destruction of the family manor, and of her journey to Sirion. That would be a tale best saved for when they reached Glinmar, and told along with strong alcohol. Even then, there were memories she would rather not recount. The feeling as she thrust her dagger into human flesh, ending a man's life. Alia shuddered, and pushing the memories aside, turned her concentration to the road ahead. It was a long road, but at least she had a horse this time, and didn't have to travel alone. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Alain Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (61 recipients) For once, it seemed, life had settled down for Alia, and she could finally relax. But Alia was far from relaxed. Alain didn't have to believe her seemingly outrageous story. He didn't have to accept her as family. He didn't have to take her in. But Alain had done all of this, and had become like a father to her. That was what irked Alia. She wanted a friend, a provider, someone to go to when she was in need. But she certainly did not want a father. She wanted to move around, she wanted to be free. Not confined by lots of ridiculous rules, and locked in the 'family dungeon' for a week if she disobeyed (Alia's late father had done this when she was eleven, after she knocked over an expensive flower vase). As far as Alia was concerned, parents were the totalitarian dictators of the household. Despite her mixed feelings towards Alain, Alia kept them mostly to herself. She knew that without him, she would be either living in a gutter, or dead. Still, Alia had to put her foot down sometimes. Fatherly acts were punished by a death glare, and any suggestion that she needed taking care of, or advice on how to live her life, was met with the same, along with a few pointed remarks. Alia always had a talent for insults. At age fifteen, she was already more independent-minded and cynical than most fully grown adults. Alain seemed to understand, and was excellent at knowing when to shut up. It was in one of these situations that Alia made a mistake she would soon regret greatly. She was eating dinner with her cousin; each of them at opposite ends of a very long empty marble table. It could seat 75 people, but with just two, it was a little awkward at opposite ends. "Pass the gravy" would be a good workout, if it weren't for the many servants standing around, waiting to act on their master's request. Both Alain and Alia were laughing heavily at a joke she had made about one of the fat noble merchants that had visited earlier that day. The laughter subsided, and silence followed. Finally, Alain broke the silence. "I'm leaving tuesday," he said simply, his voice echoing through the cavernous hall. Alia gave him a questioning glance, and wondered if he had seen it from so far away. One of the servants whispered in his ear, and she thought she could hear " A puzzled glance, m'lord." Groaning, Alia took up her plate, and walked to the other end of the table, sitting down next to Alain. She gave him the look again, and he decided to elaborate. "I'm going to battle, and I won't be back for some time. William here will look after you while I'm gone..." "That's strike one," Alia muttered under her breath. She was in no mood for being babied. "Excuse me?" "Nothing," Alia said. "Continue please." Alain knew it was something, but continued anyway. "You seem disappointed. I'm sorry you can't come with me, but...." "Forbidding me to do something," Alia muttered again. "Strike two." (One more, and the match is lit, or so the saying goes). Alain obviously heard this, but decided to push his luck. "The battlefield is simply no place for a little girl...." The last two words seemed to echo long after the rest had died down. Alia jumped to her feet. "No place for a little girl?" she said viciously. "The last two people who doubted this....little girl....ended up dead, or with smashed walnuts. I'll tell you what, I'm coming with you, and there is absolutely nothing you can say or do to stop me. Whoever we're fighting is going to wish they had never been born!" Alain sighed heavily. "I suppose you're right. I'll tell the armorer to get you, and your horse, fitted. Hopefully he can forge the platemail in time, but if not, you'll have to make do with whatever he has available." Alain pushed his plate to the side, apparently not hungry anymore. "After dinner I want you to come with me to the range. I would like to see how well you can handle a longbow." With that said, he stood up, and silently walked away. Alia was thinking about this small victory, when she realized what she had just gotten herself into. She cursed her own hard-headedness. She knew she couldn't back out now though – not after that outburst. She had killed before, once, and she still saw that man's smile in her dreams. Mocking her, laughing. Alia had read books, and heard stories of battles. Hundreds, even thousands of people, running at each other trying to hack the other group of people to pieces. And she had just thrust herself in the middle of it. Alia pushed her plate aside, and got up. She watched as the servants descended on the table, like carrion crows on a fresh kill. She needed to be alone. |
| Alain Revan Banker of Sirion, Count of Glinmar |
| Roleplay from Evil Revan (just in)
Message sent to everyone in your realm (29 recipients) Evil had always disliked bodyguards. He hated drawing attention, and felt he ought to be able to defend himself. But, as his Cousin Alain had said, "attempts on your life just mean you're doing something right." And apparently Evil was doing something right, because once the Assassins started succeeding militarily, the assassination attempts on him increased tenfold. Of course, these were Wetham and Giblotian assassins, most of them not even noble. Evil was able to foil or avoid their attempts with ease. But the paranoia got to such a point, that Evil finally gave in, and hired a man who he liked to call his "Shadow". A professional killer of the highest skill, without a name, or a face beneath his dark mask. His only goal being to ensure his master's safety. And, true to his name, he could never be lost, no matter how Evil tried. Unless directly ordered, he was never more than a knife throw away from his master. The two guardsmen squirmed uncomfortably as Evil looked at them. The Shadow spoke, his voice almost a whisper. "My eyes and ears on the street tell me there's a foreigner asking around for the Twilight General. They say he doesn't look noble, and that he's definitely armed, and possibly Wetham. Evil smiled. "Oh my, another master of inconspicuousness." He glanced at the two guardsmen. "I assume you two were the ones to spot him?" "Yes sir!" one of the men replied, saluting so hard people across the noisy room could hear the *ding* of gauntlet meeting helmet. Evil acknowledged it with a nod. "I've got a job for you.....I want you to approach this man, and see if he runs or panics. If so, chase him down, and detain him. If not, tell him I will grant him an audience, in the main room of the Hairy Bear Tavern. Tell him, attendance is mandatory," Evil grinned. The guardsman saluted once more, then he and his partner left. Evil's Shadow remained behind, ready to spring to action in the blink of an eye. "Please, if you must watch, find yourself somewhere to hide. And for the gods' sake put that poison blowgun away! This is a crowded room, full of innocent civilians." The Shadow nodded, and found a seat in a dark corner, where he commanded a view of the entire room. Evil had just finished his seventh ale when the guardsmen marched in again, escorting the suspected killer between them. Evil's gaze immediately went to the irregularly-shaped lump in the man's jacket. "Please," he said calmly, "lay your crossbow on the floor. Same with the dagger that's poking out your pants leg." The man complied obediently. "Now, tell me, why do you seek me?" He bowed low. "I am Theodric, loyal messenger to the esteemed Alain Revan, Count of Glinmar, Banker of Sirion. I come bearing a message to Lord Evil Revan. I assume you are he?" Evil looked the man up and down, and smiled. "New to the job, are you? You will have to excuse the guards. You see, we mistook you for an assassin, what with all the weapons and attempts at secrecy." The man replied simply, "Nothing stops the mail." "Well, let's have the letter then, and you can be on your way." The man handed Evil a letter. Bowing once more, he picked up his weapons, and left. Evil glanced over the envelope. "Revan Family seal....crest of Sirion...." Evil froze suddenly as he read the sender. "No....that can't be, she's...dead..." Evil got up, and paid for his drinks. Signaling his Shadow not to follow, he walked out back behind the tavern. With trembling fingers, he tore the envelope, and read the letter within. Dearest Brother, It's good to hear you're alright. I certainly have missed you. As for myself, you will find I am full of surprises. I have quite the story to tell, and I do know how much you appreciate stories... Evil read over the rest of the letter carefully, and then re-read it a few times, as if making sure he hadn't missed anything. Then, tucking it gently away under his cloak, he left quietly. When he reached his camp on the outskirts of town, Evil went directly to his tent. Pulling out his quill and ink, he began to pen a reply.
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| Evil Revan Twilight General of Assassins, Marshal of the Army of Shadows |
