Unti Family/Nerta/A5S2

Trouble in Vore
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Entering the city with Balin, Nerta bristles in the crowd as they head to the Azure Plaza. "A lot more soldiers than last time I was here." A jostling teamster sends Nerta into the red head earning one of them a muttered apology and the other a hiss. "I doubt we'll have to fight a horde of zombies, but we should check the temple. Someone's going to need our help." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Happy to be away from the crowd, Nerta taps at the quest board outside the Temple to the Old Gods. "Usual stuff for a city. Couple hauntings. Missing kid. Merchant needs needs someone to collect his lost cargo." She rubs at her injured arm. It feels hot. What she gets for catching a death knight blade. "Compared to Bessimir this stuff should be easy. Especially if the temple has any elixirs. You could probably handle it all on your own while I heal up..." The thought is cut short as a young woman clutching a parchment intent for the board steps into view. Her flaxen hair is pulled in a tight bun, and she wore a washerwoman's skirt. But most telling her eyes shimmer with tears. "S-Sir, Miss... p-please..." Nerta slumps and closes her eyes. Her voice warm for the first time since Balin met her. "Brother or son?" The washerwoman swallows hard and points toward the slopes of the mountain. "My F-Father...the quarry. A..A landslide." "Heh... that one's new. Let's hope the Dark Mistress hasn't welcomed him to her court just yet." Squeezing the woman's arm, Nerta waves Balin to follow. No monsters this time, but someone still needed help, and that’s why they were here. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Vidkunn Thrane Message sent to Everyone in Vore Vidkunn snarled as he finished reading the missive bearing the seal of House Luitolf. His fist became pale as he crumbled the parchment tightly before casting it to the ground. He turned his gaze upon the Temple of the Old Gods and gave a heavy grunt. He drew his dagger and began to pray. ​​​​​​…Forgive me, Emperor…I shall endure as you have commanded…I am ashamed to have sought false redemption in these Old Gods. Take of my flesh this sacrifice and have mercy on my soul… His grasped the blade of the dagger with his left hand and slowly pulled with his right. He closed his eyes and felt the pain pulse through his body. Vidkunn Thrane (Knight of Yipinalke)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Running hands through her hair, stone dust scatters and Nerta takes another sip of water. She needed it. The digging had been sweaty work, and her injured arm throbbed. But either the Life Taker or the Weaver of Fate had spared these people. Moments like this are fleeting. Usually families aren’t reunited, they’re mourning. So Nerta enjoys the relative calm and leans back till her hood falls away so the sun can play across her face. But even the sun sets eventually. “This is the thing?” The sneer guard captain blocks the light as an underlying prods Nerta’s shoulder with a spear. “Yes sir, one of those mountain folk.” “Folk? You give these beasts too much credit Cedric.” Nerta scans the small contingent. Forty… she could take them, but only if she was willing to kill some…. “I said stand up beast! I know you speak language.” … most. “It has been a good day Captain and I would rather it continue, for both of us. I am indeed from the Roof of the World, but I mean your people no har….” The prod of a second spear cuts her off as the captain with the curly moustache scowls. “No harm? There was a Crystal-Cursed landslide. Everyone knows your kind cause disasters and ill luck.” “I just saved those people.” The woman’s tone flat, her eyes glitter with malice but the array of spears hold her back. “I will not debate with the likes of you. Cedric! Take this thing to the dungeons, this will be a matter for the duke.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Captured! You have been spotted and captured by enemy patrols.
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in Vore "Prison?" Soren sighed, shaking his head. Probably Thalmarkin. Probably for something stupid. That was where he had last seen her, and he didn't doubt she was still out there. He pondered over if he could even help her or not. Katria, the first daughter of one of the river lords, stepped forward with a smug look on her face. "If I may, sir? That woman doesn't deserve your time anyway. She's uncouth, a drifter hardly better than an adventurer, and I can't see why you would spend your time with her." Soren shook his head again, this time at his assistant. "Then you haven't been paying attention," Soren told her, ignoring the offense she took at that statement. Setting aside the latest harvest reports Katria had originally come to deliver, he took a blank piece of parchment and picked up his pen. "There's more to her than just what you see on the surface, Katria." "She seems to hate you." Soren laughed, but didn't give her a response. Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore It's hard to tell time in a dungeon. But the pale woman is able to count heartbeats by the throb of her injured arm. Five hundred beats after the Old Man had decided to look around the citadel, the door to her cell opens with a screech. Expecting a guard, the appearance of a nervous young man dressed as a page is curious. As is the medical kit thrust toward her. “Uh… miss Nerta, y-you need some medicine and bandages right?” Her breath steaming in the cool air, she swallows hard to clear her throat. "Thank you, lad. I hope the Old Man wasn’t too big of a scare.” The boy fidgets with his tunic while Nerta opens the pack to pull out salve and alcohol. “It’s alright miss. I heard about what you did down at the quarry…” A faint smile turns to a wince as she cleans the wound, and the page fills the silence. “The Captain is just worried about the war, the army was routed in Qual and there’s been looting.” The splash of alcohol has Nerta hiss and tense, leading the page to nearly jump out of his skin. As the pain subsides, Nerta shrugs. “The captain arrested me for the same reason you’re staring.” The boy had the decency to flush and look away, leaving Nerta to fill the silence. “It’s alright. I’m used to it.” Working the salve into the cut, she continues. “I heard others being released but I’m still here. Why?” The boy rubs his head and glances over his shoulder. “The Duke’s busy with the war and the Captain wants you transferred out of the city and to the judge.” Nerta snorts as she winds the bandages around her arm. “The Royal Judge for little old me? I guess the Ice Queen was in a hurry to balance her scales of fate.” Tying off the bandage, Nerta folds back up the pack and pushes it toward him with her foot. “Thank you lad, now get going before you get in trouble. I have to clean up my cell for company after all.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Report from Elios Everlight Message sent to Everyone in Vore Most Honoured Duchess Anyte, Senex Nerta: The Temple in my city has never looked so impressive. How has Vore come to be bestowed with such an honour? Senex, I do not believe that we have met. I wonder that his Majesty has not noted your presence, what with the war and all. Would it be wise to trust that your intentions here are all above board? Not to throw bald suspicion upon you, Lady; I ask openly of a peer. For the North, Elios Everlight (Duke of Vore)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Nerta squints in the morning light as she steps from the citadel as a free woman once more. “Here,” the captain sniffs and extends her cloak, “if you must be released among honest folk, have the decency to cover yourself.” The woman says nothing to the guard’s sneer, but as she adjusts the hood another figure trots up atop a splendid charger. The resplendent man is bearded with hazel-green eyes and sandy hair. “Senex, I do not believe that we have met. The Temple in my city has never looked so impressive” The horse stamps and he pulls at the reins. “Still, I wonder that his Majesty has not noted your presence, what with the war and all. Would it be wise to trust that your intentions here are all above board?” His smile earns a grumble from the guard captain. “Not to throw bald suspicion upon you, Lady; I ask openly of a peer.” Checking her gear, Nerta cranes her neck to eye the looming man for several heartbeats. Based on his comfort in the saddle and claim to the city, this must be the Duke of Vore. “You’re a peer, are you? The very same Duke who’s dungeons she’d spent a week in. “Well, why didn’t you say so...” Alarm bells ring for the captain at the tone of the ‘thing’, but he’s not fast enough to stop Nerta snatching her spear and launching herself in a run. Crossing the distance as a scuttling blur, the woman springs from the ground toward the cavalier. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Training Match Elios Everlight, Duke of Valour, Margrave of Vore meets his challenger Nerta Unti, Dame of Agyr, Priestess of The Old Gods for the agreed training match. Both participants are using the 'overrun' strategy, so that neither has an advantage. After a series of blows, Nerta wins the training match.
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Nerta crashes into the Duke before he draws his sword, but Elios holds his seat through training and reflex. Adapting quickly, the woman plucks a knife from her belt to lunge. It forces Elios to release the saddle and parry with his bracer. Legs alone control the dancing horse as the blade switches hands for a second swing. But the Duke grabs her arm and ripostes with a heavy crack to her ribs. Thrown back against the neck of the panicking charger, Nerta grabs his arm and pulls Elios forward into a right hook. Dazed and unable to pull free, Elios hammers with his left. The flailing metal crunches Nerta’s injured arm to a hiss of pain. From there everything about the woman is a blur of fabric and hands. When things settle, the Duke finds his left arm pinned as well and Nerta peering up at him close enough to taste the sweat on her brow. Eyes wide she clicks something in the back of her throat before swallowing hard. “Peer?” Her breath washes across his beard and, despite the tremble from adrenaline, her hand remains steady as the knife presses to his throat. “Maybe I should put you in a little box for a week...” “THE DUKE! TO ARMS!” Sweat drips from Elios’ nose to splash on her own, but Nerta’s gaze never stops boring into those hazel-green eyes. “Now Duke, tell them to stand down. This is between peers after all.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Nerta knew that a man like the captain is a coward. He will do nothing while a knife sits at the Duke's throat. But the captain is not alone. There are soldiers, torn between duty and their petty tyrant. There are peasants, cooks, and groundskeepers- all transfixed at the sight. But there is also a young boy who wants so much to honour his grandfather. A young boy who bravely ventured alone into the dungeons with medicine. A young boy who does what's right. So while the crowd stands frozen, the young page picks up Nerta's spear and places the tip against her side. "Lady…" Nerta's grip tightens on the knife, her knuckles turning white. "...please." The blade falls from her hand and she finally closes her eyes. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Captured! You have been spotted and captured by enemy patrols.
Huge Battle Fought Rumours spread and tales are sung about a huge battle in Vore: Ar Agyr vs. Thalmarkin Estimated strengths: 830 men vs. 290 men The Angry Agyrian Army (Ar Agyr), sponsored by Queen Aibhlidhn Dubhaine, were led into battle by Marshal Rowan Hawk. Duke Aeravon Velaryon is spotted wearing the Cruel Ring of Sartania, the Shield of Battle & the Scythe of Vlaanderen Count Bergelmir Crownguard is spotted wielding the Grisly Mace of Angmar. Countess Lady Nostalgia Fate is spotted wearing the Blessed Chain of Piety. Attacker Victory!
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Deep in the Vore Citadel sits a spider. It makes a home for itself in one corner of their cell, catching careless flies as they buzz about. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else Captain? It sounds like a war outside.”  The man’s moustache twitches in the dark. “A war you brought, creature.” Nerta smiles and shifts against the cold stone.  “First I caused a landslide, then I tried to assassinate the Duke, and now I brought a war. Despite all appearances, you must think highly of my abilities.”  Sour breath curls around the bars to the cell. “I think, it would be a shame if you escaped justice.” The jingle of shackles cuts the deepening silence. “If you open that door, I will kill you.”  A crossbow rises along with a sneer. “And what will you do if I just shoot you from here?” Bowing her head, Nerta’s hands clench behind her back. “Still a coward even with all that wine…” Nerta flinches as the door rattles, and the flush face of the captain presses against the bars.   “You think you’re so clever. Tricking everyone. Pretending to be a noble. You’re not better than me. You’re nothing.” Eyes glitter in the dark as the man spits the words. “The Duke punished you, so now it’s my turn. But despite being chained naked in a cell, I’m terrifying. So you’ve been drinking and brought a crossbow. I have to say, I’m not impressed.”  The man purples with rage and drink, his voice echoing in the tiny cell. “Shut up you bitch! I’ll kill you.” The door rattles again as the bow swings into view, but this time Nerta doesn’t flinch and instead rises to her feet. “I know you will. But that’s not what you really want. No. You want me… crying. Because if I’m just some little girl sobbing at your feet, you don’t need to be afraid anymore.” The screams of the vanquished are muffled by the citadel’s thick walls. “But the army’s coming, Captain, so what’ll it be? Shoot me from there or come and take what you really want?” The drunk’s laboured breathing is cut by the screech of the door. Lurching toward the prisoner, the stock of the bow cracks Nerta in the head as the man screams. “Shut up you half-breed! I’m not afraid of monsters like you! You are just a little girl and I will make you cry, and beg and and…”  Nerta chitters as blood runs down her chin.  “I was wrong about you, you’re not a coward. Just a fool. I said I’d kill you if you opened that door, and I am a monster.”  Fury’s scream changes to fear at the sight of her grotesque grin. He tries to pull away and level the bow. But she strikes and the fly dies in agony. Vae Victis Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Sack of Vore
Roleplay from Ioulas Hwitt Message sent to Everyone in Vore Ioulas' heart beat in his chest louder than the war drums that resounded over the battlefield. Strangely, this battle worried him more than the first one a day previous. Scaling the walls and overrunning the relatively meagre defenders had been child's play. His sister Calypso back on Dwilight had told horror stories of the attack on Libidizedd, of the thousands that had died upon the walls. Compared to those stories, it had seemed a training exercise. Not a single one of his soldiers had fallen in the battle, and Ioulas had drunk wine and broken bread with his soldiers in honor of their victory. Now he saw what seemed to be over a thousand thousand men and women arrayed against their army, and Ioulas had to work to hide the fear that threaten to tear his breast apart. He could not let his soldiers see his fear, and so he sat atop his mighty horse, Bucephalus, and tried his best to look imposing. He wore the armor of his family back on Dwilight, with stylized muscled cuirass and silvered greaves. He wore a classical helmet, a deliberate homage to antiquity, plated in gold and bearing a motif of a mighty lion. On either side of the helmet were two pink and white peacock feathers and adorning the top was a bright plume of royal blue. Ioulas certainly thought he cast a dashing figure. The horns suddenly blared their order to attack and the army moved as one, Ioulas and his Pezhetairoi locked their shields and extended their long pikes, called sarissae among his people on Dwilight. The force moved forward deliberately with Ioulas wanting dismounting his horse and joining the first row of soldiers as they neared the enemy army. His captain, a Beluaterran man named Madred, warned him against this, but Ioulas waved the concerns away saying, "The Gods will punish a coward that hides in the back behind his men! Glory is on the front lines! I will show this continent how brave the Hwitt's can be!" Ioulas hoped that the men did not hear the shaking in his voice. Before too long the tide of battle reached them. Ioulas was surprised to see that what he had thought to be a huge army was in fact a rabble of countless peasants, throwing themselves at the ordered line of soldiers like swarm of angry insects. They died like insects too. The unarmored and undisciplined mob threw themselves onto the awaiting spears of the Pezhetairoi, and any that made it past the wall were cut down by Ioulas or some of the others easily. Ioulas himself slew five men in the span of a few minutes, not a real soldier among the lot. Ioulas swung his sword, dispatching another unlucky soul who had attempted to hit him with a rusted and worn woodaxe and just like that it seemed, the battle was over. What remaining forces there were among the enemy were fleeing. Ioulas took a moment to look over his soldiers and was elated to note that there was not a single fatality among them, only minor injuries. His earlier trepidation was replaced with excitement as Ioulas knew that the defenders would take time to reorganize themselves, now it was time take glory and reward among the enemy city. "Men! To the city streets, we will find where they hide their coffers and take our due! Let us sleep on gold this night!" Ioulas shouted to a general cheer among his soldiers, who looked forward to a chance to loot the enemy city. The soldiers moved into the city in orderly fashion and before too long found a building bearing the city seal. "There! There men! Let us go!" Ioulas shouted, and before he could do anything more, his men surged forward. A few brave soldiers tried to stoped the two score soldiers from entering the tax office, but they were cut down easily as the Pezhetairoi were met with a stacks of gold coins that covered the small vault room from floor to waist height. The soldiers swarmed it, filling their pockets, the sleeves, anything they could, while Madred ensured that Ioulas received the lion's share. A noise suddenly arose from outside as the few sentries that had been posted outside the building raised the alarm. Ioulas went to the window and was horrified to see that a mob of nearly 300 people had come out to try and kill his soldiers while they looted. "Defend! Into lines men! Into lines! Make rank!" Ioulas shouted, and his men, feeling the danger, stopped their looting and obeyed. What followed was a second slaughter, as nearly all of the 300 people were killed. Ioulas could only watch as they impaled themselves one after the other on the spears. Soon that too was over, and the streets were quiet once more. In this chaotic fracas, Ioulas had nearly been surrounded, trying again to lead from the front, but the peasants had come from every side, and he had to kill even more people. The soldiers held no mercy though, already high on battle, blood, and gold, and set about the task of putting down the peasants as efficiently as a farmer threshes grain. Soon the cobblestones of Vore were nearly ankle deep in crimson blood, as a pile nearly three feet high of dead became an impediment to their unordered attackers. But through the din of the fight, Ioulas could see that the back numbers were beginning to run, as the peasants could see that their unruly attack had failed. "Stop! Stop men! Let them go! There is no more glory to be had in pointless slaughter here! Let us take our prize and let our spears pierce the heart of soldiers!" Ioulas hoped it was his words that had stopped his men, rather than the lack of available targets, but stop they did as the peasants broke, running back into side streets and alleyways. Screaming could be heard from the dying all around as Ioulas and Madred quickly took stock of the battle. Not a single of his men had fallen, but hundreds lay dead before them. This was not what Ioulas had intended. Madred shook his young master, nearly shouting to him, "Ser Ioulas we must go before another waved tries their luck, or we will never make it out!" Ioulas nodded and the soldiers quickly began an ordered withdrawl, pockets and sacks laden with the riches of the city. Within half an hour, they reached the safety of the Agyran camp and the soldiers collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Over 400 gold coins were counted among Ioulas' share of the haul, an amount he had never seen in one place. Out of combat, the soldiers began to finally cheer their good fortune, and soon lifted Ioulas upon their shoulders, cheering his name and calling out, "Ioulas the golden lad! Ioulas the golden lad!" Any guilt Ioulas felt evaporated at the praise, and soon all were enjoying wine and food freely, and they celebrated the night away, waiting to see if the next day would bring repeated fortune. Ioulas Hwitt (Knight of Ieara)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Soldiers pillage. The city burns. People scream. All under the Banners of Four Duchies. Arfordir rampages by the Azure Plaza, Havilmark holds the gatehouse, Avalon ransanks tax offices, while Jylmark is down by the quarry turned charnel pit. "Looks like only Agyr is missing, but then Bob is too old to enjoy conquest, Rahger is nowhere in sight and I’ve been a guest of the Duke.” Nerta leans back from the window as Page Gavin returns, his arms piled with her clothes. “Nerta, I-I know you must hate me…” The woman snags pants and laughs. “Hate you? Given what I just did downstairs, I’d be a Crystal Cursed hypocrite if I hated you for winning a fight by trickery. You had no idea what the Captain was going to try.” Averting his eyes, Gavin remains a coat rack while Nerta dresses. “I… I still need to ask for your help and I don’t deserve it.” The woman squeezes into her shirt and adjusts it with a tug. “No one ever does, but that’s never stopped me before. So let me guess, you’ve got a family you want to keep safe and you don’t think the Citadel will for long.” Boots roll toward the lady as Gavin nods. “It’s not just my family. People are dying out there, and… I dug into the reports after they locked you up again. You really do help people.” Cloak settling around her shoulders, Nerta pulls up the hood. “Someone has to. Come on, we’ll round up your family and anyone we can and hide them in the temple. Damn thing has to be good for something more than just books and statues.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Driving off a pair of Pezhetairoi soldiers from Arfordir with light wounds, Nerta rejoins the mob of peasants moving through the inferno. She had collected quite the congregation marching from the Citadel. Apparently religion is more appealing when death is close… As both the temple and a familiar red mohawk come into view, Nerta raises her spear to shout. "Balin! I got tired of waiting for you to break me out. Care to help my new friends find a place to stay?” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin, a hero in his own eyes, had just finished telling of his heroic deeds in the north, where scores of zombies fell to the might of the Old Gods who personally intervened to save their worthy followers. He spoke in hope to inspire those that watched him speak. The city was still burning, but a story of hope was good for folk to cling to while the going was bad. He nodded to himself pleased as he felt he managed to not only raise their spirits (morale rises by 5 % to 16 %), but also cause the watching citizens to become more patriotic. He was about to leave when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned to see Nerta, leading quite a congregation of war torn peasants, all trying to find refuge. "I didn't know you were here, but it makes a lot of sense. You would be where the need is strongest, even if the place is in enemy lands." "Perhaps we should head to the temple and see if it still has room for a few more. I hear it was recently rebuilt and enlarged." Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Nerta snorts waves the people forward. "The temple better have room or else I'm throwing the books out in the street no matter what the Old Man says. Gavin you see to that." She didn't want to think about Balin's calm assurance that Fate had brought her here. She had enough trouble being tethered to the Dark Mistress let alone adding the machinations of Ice Queen. "Come on Balin. I managed to chase off a couple bronzed phalanx, but we need to set up a barricade before they come back with friends or else this will be Bessimir all over again." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Mourning After
Roleplay from Dancer Rea Message sent to Everyone in Vore The 'royal' trio made their way though the broken streets of Vore. Bodies were piled at every corner; fully half of the population had been slaughtered by the Agyrains. As the group approached the temple, they found themselves stopped by a large crowd...... Dancer Rea (King of Thalmarkin)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore The temple grounds held most of the survivors from the sack of Vore, thanks to the ad hoc defenses made from carts and desperation. When the King arrived the next day the refugees turned militia still manned the ramparts, but they allowed him to pass. The space beyond is crowded but orderly, and centred on a makeshift tent. The surrounding tables are swimming with scrolls where a few scribes work to sort the mess of reports. Occasionally the page Gavin glances up to a hand mirror propped against a sack of beets. Despite the activity, Nerta dozes in the shadow of the tent. She’d had a long night, but the morning might be just as busy. At the sight of the King the trio of scribes rise to bow. “Your majesty.” A soft and speculating fourth voice echoes the other three. “Your majesty, curious…” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf Message sent to Everyone in Vore Groggily, Anyte peered around the room she was in. The last thing she remember was seeing the armies of Ar Agyr marching to the city in the distance, and getting what meager defense for the city she could muster, then hobbling to pray to which ever of the gods were listening that the city might be saved. Ar Agyr marched to force Thalmarkin to suffer the presence of a man that caused so much turmoil he was actually accused with hiring one of her many would be assassins. Slowly, she sate up from the soft bed in which she had been placed. Bandages had been placed over the wounds of her most recent assassination attempt, and it was clear she was being tended to by someone. Soon, the door opened and a lesser Guardian walked through. "Your Grace, it is good to see you-" "Where is my cane?" She cut him off with a grunt. He stared in disbelief at the duchess as she breathed heavily, still recovering from the wound she had received in the church. "Duchess, you should rest more. You were severely injured, we were not even sure if you would make it. Besides, the King has arrived in the city once he heard of your injury. I am sure he would like to see you." The confusion gone, replaced with anger, Anyte seethed. The King that had claimed to love her but in the end had betrayed her. Fury muddled her still exhausted brain. "Bring me my cane, and take me to the King," She barked with a low snarl, "If you know what's good for him you will ensure we are not alone." Anyte Luitolf (Duchess of The Bathory)
Roleplay from Dancer Rea Message sent to Everyone in Vore Three people, four voices. Dancer lightly squeezed Jax's sides, and the 'horse' came to a stop near the trio. Bearthomew stopped as well, and sat down with a light thump. Milky eyes swept the area, but there was no indication of where the fourth voice had come from. Curious. Dancer let his eyelids half close, and began to focus very carefully, casting his senses out to the tent and it's inhabitants. Simultaneously, he growled at the group. "Don't waste my time with pleasantries. Is the Princess in the temple?" As he spoke, his sense reached the tent, and within. Four souls. Two, relatively normal, although Balin's form was very bright in comparison to most humans. The child on the cot felt strange, although he was not sure why. It was....almost like she'd managed to drench her very soul in the stench of a monster. However, it was the fourth soul that caught his attention.....namely because he could not see a physical form standing in that location with his half open eyes. Interesting. Perhaps some sort of invisibility magic? Dancer Rea (King of Thalmarkin)
Roleplay from Anyte Luitolf Message sent to Everyone in Vore Through the temple the couple slowly hobbled, Anyte still healing from the attack and therefore even slower than before. Several times she had to stop and catch her breath, leaning heavily upon her cane, treating it more of a crutch than ever before. They eventually made their way to the courtyard, where she saw him sitting up that dreadful beast he called a horse. The duchess straightened her self up with all her might and approached the king. THWACK Her cane had found the meaty part of his leg. "How dare you? How can you show your face after declaring that man, the man that has had me stabbed and treated your people as if they were mere play things, not a traitor? How can you come to see me after that?" She creamed, voice dripping with the vitriol that comes from years of having people hunt one down for reasons beyond your comprehension, "You of all people, I thought would understand. Quickly the cane found the ground again as her head spun from the sudden burst of action, she needed it as a crutch once more, breathing heavily again, "Of course you don't understand, how could you. I came here two decades ago seeking refuge, and have spent that time building a life for people. Providing, defending, improving, and even smoothing over the transgressions of others. What have I gotten in return? More assassination attempts than I can count. The cannibals of Mordok ran free, not one person targeting them, but the woman who has done nothing but toil for this realm is almost a prize to those that skulk in the dark. And you declared one of the men that hires them not a traitor?" Anyte Luitolf (Duchess of The Bathory)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in Vore Nerta of the twisted soul jumps in her bed as the ebony cane of the Duchess connects with the leg of the inquisitive King. Scrubbing sleep away as the lovers quarrel, the foederati woman groans in the light of day. “You two need to stop. It’s the army that’s to blame, not any of you. Now give Gavin there your names and by all the Gods, quietly, go and get some food. Some of us were up all night protecting your asses.” Nerta’s glittering eyes finally focus on the pair. Taking in their appearance, she frowns and tugs her cloak closed. “Oh. You’re not plebeians. Crystal Cursed…” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)