Serpentis Family/Erik Eyolf/Foxglove
Roleplay from Erik Eyolf Serpentis
Erik was in front of his tent after send his soldiers to hunt and forage the spoils. That was his last battle as Prime Minister of Sirion, a victory to remember. As always the disciplined Akodo Champions had distinguished themselves in battle, breaking through the frontlines to taste the fear in the eyes of the last archers, bursting out through the rain of arrows to reap the poor bastards like straw. The old dragon had danced well, unfortunately wounding his partner. He washed his hands and instructed his squire.
Erik Eyolf: "My sword licked a good Lady today. There must be some fox fur on my chest. Send it to her tent as a gift with my apologies. Send her a bottle of wine as well and let me know if she need my healers; they can do miracles with little scars."
The Duke of Avamar stood there for a few moments to see the reckless squire advance toward the enemy camp. Then he entered his tend to drink a beer an enjoy some good time with the blossoms of Poitiers.
Roleplay from Cassandra Foxglove
Cassandra grimaced as the healer pulled the needle and thread through the skin on her arm and drew it tight to close the wound. He tied it off and cut through the rest of loose end with a sharp knife that he produced from his belt. There was a cough from behind her and she turned to see her captain standing close by, with a youth in Sirionite colours at his side, nervously shifting from foot to foot.
"A prisoner?" Cassandra asked.
"Nay, m'lady. He says he's come bearing gifts from Duke Erik, with his apologies for the wound."
Cassandra's eyebrow arched, but she gestured for the squire to approach. He stepped forward and held out a sword and then a bottle of wine. She took the sword first. A fine blade. Well balanced, and of an old design. She noted the chips in the steel that told the tale that it had seen many battles. She had a servant pour out some of the wine, and took a sip.
"Well," Cassandra said, letting out a sigh. "The old dragon is full of surprises, isn't he? I'd never have expected chivalry from him."
She took another sip of the wine.
"You're dismissed. Thank his Grace of the sword," she said to the Sirionite squire. Then a wicked grin played across her lips and she ran a finger over the wound on her arm. "And tell him that I hope I'll soon have a chance to repay him in kind."
The squire turned and made a hasty retreat in the direction of the Sirionites.
"Oh, one more thing," Cassandra called. "Tell him to keep that thing he calls a son on a tight leash."
