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| Chronicles of Athylon; Act I: The Rose of Rotharia | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 13 2013, 11:59 PM (3,387 Views) | |
| Agrias | Dec 5 2013, 10:45 AM Post #51 |
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The Foreman
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Agrias grumbled to himself, "Ship's still low in the water, I imagine those louts hadn't pumped the bilge nor unloaded the old wine casks... at least there's something we've an abundance of." he thought aloud to himself as he tugged and secured the leather stays of one of the crew. His head snapping up in revelation as his ash-brown eyes grew wide, "Gods' teeth!" he muttered before stalking off seeking the captain herself. A dangerous smile curling at the corners of her lips. "We may live through this yet." he added as he quickened his pace. "I'd give my right hand for a sodding map of this damned island all the same, though." he added as he continued his search. Catching sight easily of Fraye and Cyrus, though only a blind man could misplace Cyrus. He was among the few crewmen the ensemble had that was taller than himself, and the only one a full head or more at that. "Oi! Cyrus, can you see the captain? I've need for words with her... And Fraye, gather some haulers if you could, I've a notion to cause a good deal of distress to the Seareavers, and I'll need of them to play it out." he shouted with his hands cupped to his mouth to help his voice carry to the other end of the ship. "When facing a larger force, find ways to make their strengths a weakness, and if all fails and hope is lost, ensure they cannot pursue." he recalled his lessons in strategy, it was much more difficult not to lean on the wisdom of his old life, a life well ended in his mind, but if he could see more of those he was responsible for, and those, despite their faults, that he'd grown to find some measure of contentment living among, he would. Not wasting any time he continued he personal search for the Captain, heeding or stopping to right his trajectory only with word from Cyrus. |
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| Wanderlust | Dec 6 2013, 08:27 PM Post #52 |
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The Sleeping Soul
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We're sailing straight into a trap. The thought had crossed Thaeran's mind a number of times ever since Karia had first mentioned the name "Ilskara"... but of course she did - where else would Captain Reyna be heading? The Ilskara Isles were not the Seareavers' main base of operations; only the most daft of people would remain there longer than they had to, and for the same reasons, only the completely insane would dare to chase the Seareavers there, making it the perfect place for Reyna to go after such a brazen attack. The Seareavers had often launched their raids from these very islands; though technically part of Aeseri rather than Rotharia (not that either country wanted them much), the Ilskara Isles were only a few days' steady sailing from the Rotharian provinces of Avareux, Saerotha, and Faulden, making them a strategic place for pirates in general to retreat to after a raid. Few Rotharian guardsmen knew how to safely traverse the icy, storm-battered isles, and fewer still dared to try. Most simply gave up. Karia Morsenia, however, was apparently completely insane. If not the Twin Mask Ensemble as a whole. Thaeran only hoped that Reyna hadn't been counting on this. Trying to shake the apprehensions from his mind, he sought a distraction, and spotted one of the newcomers to the Crimson Rose - the guardsman, he remembered: Damian Faust. Putting on his most charming smile, Thaeran sauntered over to the dark-haired man with a casual wave of his hand. "You know," he said by way of greeting, "I've spent most of my life running from the bluecloaks, and now here I am, sailing straight into danger side by side with one. One of life's little ironies, huh?" He gave him a wry grin. "Ahh, but you're not Avareuxian, are you? You wear their colors, but I'm not yet convinced there's any seawater in your veins. A transfer from further inland, maybe. Valencia? Bausqé? You'd have no part in this, one would think - you'd report the bad news back home, accept your loss of payment, and move on with your life. Yet here you are, chasing after Lady Harmon before even any of her own people dared to try. Perhaps there's more to this than there first appears? A forbidden love, perhaps - and why not? A handsome man like yourself..." He winked. "Well, out with it. What's your story?" _____________________________________________________________________________________ Rillian needed an outlet. His frustration had been building within him ever since he saw Alexandra disappear into the narrow city streets during the chaos, and it had threatened to overwhelm him when he realized she was truly gone. Why couldn't you have just stayed put under the stage? Part of him blamed himself - he could have followed her from atop the rooftops, ensured she got safely back to the ship, but... no. No, the entirety of the Twin Mask was his family, not just her. He couldn't have abandoned them in the middle of a battle for her sake, no matter how much she meant to him. What he could do was feather every last Seareaver that had taken her with arrows and bring her home. But for now, he needed an outlet for his frustrations. A useful one. "Zei." Rillian had kept an eye on the red-haired ranger ever since Karia and the others had helped her aboard; even before that, he had taken note of the unseen figure raining death upon the Seareavers from the inn's window like a guardian angel of death. As he approached her, she turned to face him with an amicable smile. She looked far too peppy for a woman that killed so effortlessly. "As far as I'm concerned, you proved yourself back in Avareux," he said, forcing himself to smile. "But Ilskara will be a different sort of beast. There's a storm coming - you can smell it in the air. It will be dark, and windy, and close to freezing. With that considered, I'd like to propose a friendly competition." He nodded, and shrugged the shoulder his longbow was still strung over. "A test of skill, between you and me. To make the hours pass by quicker - and to make sure we're both ready for what's to come. I need to make sure you're as deadly in heavy winds and minimum light as you were back in the city square. What say you?" _____________________________________________________________________________________ Following her abductor's murder, Alexandra Lerender hadn't immediately been taken to her prison; instead, Castilla had led her to a storage room below deck, filled end to end with wooden crates. She welcomed being safely away from the hungry gazes of the rest of the crew, but something about this woman Reyna had assigned to escort her unnerved her. "Why bring me here?" she asked, trying to sound brave. "R-Reyna said I was to be put with Priscilla..." "You will be soon," Castilla said, "but you damn near killed my captain. I need to make sure you don't have any other tricks up your sleeve... or down your boot, or under your clothes. Hand over any other weapons you have on you, and don't even think about trying to use them on me." "I-I don't have any other-" "What did Reyna tell you about lying, dear?" She asked the question gently enough, but it sent a shiver up Alex's spine nonetheless. "You're not keeping what you're wearing anyway, so anything you have, I'll find. I'm giving you the opportunity to come clean and prove yourself trustworthy to me." While she was hardly interested in 'proving herself trustworthy' to any of her captors, Alex was very much interested in surviving. She nodded her head slowly, and revealed and relinquished everything she had on her person - the stiletto slipped down her boot, the second dagger strapped to her leg under her pants, the smoke capsule Silversteel had given her, hidden within a pouch in her tunic, and even the apple that had been safely stored away opposite of it. The ghost of a smile played at Castilla's lips as she took these from her. Apparently, she had been expecting more. "Now change," she instructed her. "There's extra clothing in the crates to your left. Even with how tiny you are, you should find something that'll fit you well enough." Alex turned her back to the woman, but did as she was told. She knew better than to ask Castilla to turn away; the pirate was likely still expecting her to pull another dagger on her at any moment. Modesty was the least of her concerns right now. She digged through one of the crates and found an undershirt, leather breeches, and a brown pirate's coat that were likely to be a close enough fit. As she began to change, Castilla suddenly spoke up. "Tell me, which of the Triumvirate do you belong to?" "I don't belong to anyone," Alex said as she pulled the breeches up. "The Twin Mask are my family." Castilla laughed at that. "Of course they are, sweetling. I'm sure they're on their way to save you at this very moment. But for now, you belong to me. I suggest you answer the question." "... Ruezann took me off the streets, if that's what you're asking." Even laced up, both the breeches and the longcoat were still too large, so she sifted through the crate until she found a leather belt and buckled it tight around her waist. "Is that so?" Castilla sounded genuinely curious, but then, Alex noted, everything she said sounded oddly genuine, no matter the tone she said it in. "I expected better of one of his children. You have the subtlety of a drunken Aeserian and the wits of one to boot. But then I suppose I should have known; Ruezann lost his touch once he met that noble wench, and if you were one of Karia's, Reyna might well be dead." Alex ignored the insults. She was done changing, and watched Castilla through narrowed eyes as she handed her old clothing over to her. "You seem to know a lot about us," she said carefully. "Of course I do, dear. It's my job." Castilla rested a finger on the tip of her chin and gave Alex a once-over. "Mm. You look even less a lady with that clothing. It's probably for the best, all things considered. I don't expect the crew to ignore a direct order from the captain, but one did already, so... just in case..." The Seareaver produced a flash of steel, and for a brief moment, Alex panicked. Then she noticed that the woman was holding her Ensemble dagger, the one she had tried to stab Reyna with. Gripping it by its silver blade, Castilla offered it back to her hilt-first. "I-Is this some sort of trick?" Alex asked hesitantly. "Captain Reyna said you were under my protection." She winked one of her jade green eyes. "In any case, do you feel safer with or without it? Take too long and I may change my mind." Alex chewed her bottom lip as she took the dagger from Castilla's grasp. It felt comforting in her palm, but part of her still felt skeptical. "Don't try to stab anyone with it unless they try to stab you with their cock," Castilla suggested. "Oh, I have something else as well. I'm going to turn my back to you for a moment. I trust you won't try and kill me? I did just give you a gift..." Castilla laughed softly as she walked past her towards one of the crates on the other end of the room, and true enough, Alex made no attempt to hurt her. The woman threw the lid off the crate and pulled from it a second dagger, a near twin to Alex's own. She offered this to her as well. "Hide it for now, but I advise you give this to Priscilla when the time is right. Who knows if she'll have the courage to use it, but for now, she's under my protection as well." Alex took the second dagger with a hesitant nod, and saw a name engraved into the silver blade. Kezia, it read. "Who is-" "Perhaps you'll find out some day, sweetling," Castilla said. "It's time you met Lady Harmon, mm?" Alex nodded once more, and slipped the daggers within the inner pockets of her longcoat. The Seareaver took her wrist in her firm grasp and led her from the storeroom, leading her back up to the cabins. One of them was certain to be Priscilla Harmon's - and soon enough, her own - prison. "Castilla," Alex heard herself say. For some reason, she felt she could trust this woman. "Reyna, before... b-before she... she said that she 'had a deal'. She... suggested she couldn't harm me because of it. What... what was she-" Castilla cut her off with a cold look, and Alex shivered once more and fell silent. By the time they reached the cabin that had been picked out for her, however, that strange, mischievous smile had returned to her lips. "Here," she said, and offered Alex the apple she had relinquished to her earlier. "Best of luck winning over Priscilla Harmon. I can't imagine she has the best opinion of your troupe after that last performance." |
| A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one. | |
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| Ser Falcon of the Seventh Stream | Dec 7 2013, 11:58 PM Post #53 |
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Stagehand
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Her lungs were certainly burning thanks to the cool sea air, but she refused to stop even for a moment. The Cabbage cart had slowed her down just enough, and from the looks of things-... No, they had already weighed anchor and were starting to pull away from the docks. That's when she had seen the rope being thrown over the side to her. She swallows down another mouthful as she struggles to put that much more effort into her sprint, then, she leaps. Off of the side of the dock, over the water, and manages to grasp unto the rope. The air that she had been holding is quickly expelled as she raises her other hand, grasping the rope. Though she slammed against the planked side of the ship, her grip did not falter. That abrupt stop was nothing compared to what she had done ritualistically to herself to endure pain. Considering her weight, she's pulled up with relative ease. Once on the ship, she's nearly doubling over. Her hands are on her knees as she looks up to Karia, then grins. She speaks her piece about why she wishes to join up with the crew this evening, and is given a rather crystal clear order. Though, she soon stands, hands on her hips, and nods to her once again. "You've got nothing to worry about from me. I'm just happy that I can be of service." When there is mention of the Shepard, however, her gaze falters for a second. That ever eager grin replaced by a more curious, if not serious look as she gazes to the one Karia had motioned to. "Interesting, I didn't know the order was amongst the crew this eve! Truly, what an interesting assortment have come to lend their aid this evening... I think I'll go and introduce myself around some later." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It's not too much longer that she's wrapping herself up firmly in her cloak, though her bow still remains slung over her shoulder. Her quiver, of course, hanging right by her hip. When called, she turns her attention to the man who had approached her. That signature grin once more apparent upon her features. At his praise, she bows her head slightly in regards to him. "Thank you kindly, words such as that are always appreciated." She turns, gaze off somewhere in the distance. Her nose scrunches somewhat, and she soon nods to his words. "It's strong, very coppery, of course there's a storm coming. Though I must admit, the conditions that I best favor in are wide open spaces, where the ground is still, and the world is silent. I'll agree to your competition if you agree to one of my own." She points with her thumb back to the direction of the city. "When we make it back, I'd like to challenge you to an archery contest on land where I fair better." She chuckles some, opening her cloak. In her hands are a quill dripping with a bit of ink, right along with that little black book. "Firstly though, I'd like to get your name. Then I'd like to get what the contest is." |
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| arrogantRooster | Dec 8 2013, 12:43 AM Post #54 |
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Stagehand
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Damian stood at parade rest, staring intently beyond the proud prow of the Crimson Rose toward the empty horizon. If he recalled correctly, their destination was quite a considerable distance away... Several days' journey with a good tailwind, the last time he had come here. He puffed out a breath. He didn't like to remain to remain idle for so long, but despite his readiness to assist in manning the ship, the captain of the Crimson Rose hadn't let him touch anything. Not that he could blame her - to the crew, he was a perfect stranger, and certainly no member of the Twin Mask Ensemble. There was little he could do to contest the point - Damian accepted that he was most definitely not a figure of authority here. Unfortunately, that meant he had little to do to pass the time. Worse still, the gentle swaying of the ship as it sailed over the waves lulled him into burying himself in his own thoughts. He honestly had not wanted the Ensemble to become involved in Lady Harmon's rescue, which should have been left solely to the Avareuxian guard. It was a risky mission, and there was no doubt in his mind that they would be placed in danger. However, as soon as he heard that one of the Ensemble's own had also been kidnapped during the attack... well, they had just as much right and reason to pursue the Seareavers as any of the guard. Besides, they were clearly a capable bunch who seemed to have much more experience with these particular group of pirates than anyone else in Avareux. Damian was startled from his thoughts by the approach of footsteps and the soft creaking of the deck's wooden floorboards to his left. He glanced over to see a man with with a wild mane of black hair and piercing blue eyes making his way over, hand raised in a friendly wave. "You know, I've spent most of my life running from the bluecloaks, and now here I am, sailing straight into danger side by side with one. One of life little ironies, huh?" the man said with a grin. Damian turned to give the man his full attention, studying him curiously. No one else had yet to approach him the past few hours. "Ahh, but you're not Avareuxian, are you? You wear their colors, but I'm not yet convinced there's any seawater in your veins. A transfer from further inland, maybe. Valencia? Bausqé?" Damian gave a soft, small impressed noise at that; how had the man known just by looking at him? There was little time to wonder at it, however, as the man continued to speak. "You'd have no part in this, one would think - you'd report the bad news back home, accept your loss of payment, and move on with your life. Yet here you are, chasing after Lady Harmon before even any of her own people dared to try. Perhaps there's more to this than there first appears? A forbidden love, perhaps - and why not? A handsome man like yourself... Well, out with it. What's your story?" "Thaeran Rochester," Damian finally identified him. "I wasn't aware that you were a wanted man in Avareux, but I suppose that will be a matter to resolve later." He flushed slightly and turned his face away, tugging at his collar. "And p-please, do not sully Lady Harmon's name with indecent implications. The good Lady Harmon and I have no relation." Damian sobered at the next line. "... It was my responsibility to protect her and the people of Avareux. I failed to do so. Now, I simply wish to make sure she and Alex return safely home." He looked back at Thaeran, straight in the eye. "As for the rest of the Avareuxian guard, they have orders to protect the city and make sure all of its residents are safe after the attack. There is simply no excuse for any member of the Rotharian guard to ignore their responsibility." Damian felt his fist clench of its own accord. "Especially when their people are in danger. Never." Suddenly aware that he was blathering to a stranger, Damian cleared his throat and composed himself. "My apologies. I don't mean to force my opinions upon you." "Though you were most likely present when Lady Morsenia introduced me, my name is Damian Faust," he said and bowed politely to Thaeran. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. You are correct, by the way; I am of the Valencian royal guard, not Avareux's. I..." Damian blinked and paused, unsure of what to say next. "I, er... I suppose it would be a fair trade to ask you 'your story'?" |
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| Karia Morsenia | Dec 10 2013, 08:32 PM Post #55 |
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Dragoness of Spellsongs
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"Captain! I've a notion to see us sailing past our destination, if you've time to hear it and give leave for some of the supplies." Agrias called out as the tall foreman strode to her with a rare smile and purposeful stride. Karia turned from the long wooden table she positioned herself at, going over charts with Felicia, and stood to greet the crew's foreman with a light bow. "What have you to say, Agrias?" "Fire..." he answered with a wry grin, before clicking his tongue and explaining, "We've not pumped the bilge yet, normally the extra weight would leave me cross, but with our abundance of bilge and all the empy wine casques we still haven't unloaded, all I'd lack is the pitch and lamp oil to make some rather unpsetting impliments for setting their ship aflame where it's moored." he finished, standing at attention, though finding it hard to repress the inspired grin, which still seemed out of place with his long beard and hard-hewn features. Karia tilted her head at the idea, furrowing her brows before nodding. "It'd make for a good distraction and so they can't follow. A good idea, though we'll have to see about scrounging up the lamp oil and pitch you need." "I will give up my own alotment, ma'am. Not as if my quarters will have need of light anyway," he offered soberly. Silence for a moment before she shook her head. "We'll distribute it evenly from all of our quarters and ration it strictly for certain amount of night hours. Just say how much you need and it will be done." Opening his mouth to protest, though no words came as he gave a nod, returning to his military nature and stand of attention to his superior. "A barrel should be enough. Likely less if there are still dregs of the wine in the casques, or the bilge happens to be more flamable. As for pitch, I was hoping for enough to coat the casques and fill three for a waterborne fuse... this will work best if we make our approach under cover of darkness of course." he added before ending with a curt nod of salute, "...ma'am," he added after a pause as if thinking it expected. She gave him a small smile and bowed her head slightly. "You need not be the only one to give small sacrifices here. This is too well of an idea that can work with our plan of stealth to dismiss so lightly. I'll send word out to start gathering the materials." "The fifteen empty wine casques should be enough for the containers," he added. "But I'll gather the labor and have them at the ready for the materials then. A-and..." he scratched at his beard, avoiding the three braids that framed it at the sides, it was likely that on their return a fourth would find its way to its fellows. "About the party going ashore, have you decided who all you're taking?" he asked soberly. "Upon getting closer we can all have a group discussion to see if we can meet personal requests along with maintaining where everyone would fit best with their talents. There will be several roles to fill and everyone may not be pleased, but this has to run smoothly or it's our lives we'll lose as well as our rescues. I am always open to opinions and suggestions to be presented to me." "I agree. I've set Cyrus and Baragos to seeing everyone armed and their blades sharp. I intend to see who would be better suited to tasks other than melee, but I'd planned to save that for when the other tasks were under way. Might I ask how long we have before we're in sight of the isles?" he asked with an arched brow, still uncertain what the timetable and how long he had to muster. "We have two to three days time before Ilskara is in sight," she said. With a distant glance and another curt nod, "That should be ample time. By your leave, ma'am," he added, nodding a bow before taking a step back, turning once more to pace the deck, organizing what he could. Karia's lips held a soft smile at the thought of having a plan for an advantage over the pirate horde, and focused her attention back on helping Felicia with charts and mapping. |
| “Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.” | |
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| Samus | Dec 15 2013, 08:08 PM Post #56 |
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The Guardian
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Samus laid back on the cot in Karia's room with his hands crossed behind his head. He'd taken off his robe and lay bare chested as the ship rocked peacefully. He was getting used to the sea now, and was rather enjoying it. After months in the forestland of Rotharia with Brother Martin, it was actually kind of nice for a change of scenery. Samus propped his head up on the cot and gazed down at his chest. There, as they always had been, were the scars he still bore from Lucien Goethe's attempted coup of Valencia. Samus had taken a real beating from some of the soldiers and their steel tipped boots had left ragged scars across his chest. They were never as prominent or as bad as the scars his father bore, but Samus was put off by them all the same. They were reminders of the dark day that changed his life. He was still surprised at the way his body had changed though. As the son of Markus Orelian, he had never been short of food or had ever struggled to survive as a boy living in Valencia. He'd never been plump but nor was he skinny, or muscled. After years of surviving in the wilds of Rotharia, he had gone from a small boy to a tall, muscled man. His stomach was defined by muscles and covered in dark hair. His time with the Order of Saint Alerion had enhanced this and Samus was one of the fittest Shepherds of the Order. Many Shepherds were old, fat, or failed crusaders. Compared with Martin, Samus was a warrior to a merchant. Though there was a difference in fitness, there was also a vast difference in faith and skill. Martin had been a Shepherd for years and far outmatched Samus in terms of healing skill. Laying here, on a cot in the middle of the sea, Samus again contemplated if that was what he wanted. To become like Martin, or, maybe, to become like his father. Sighing, Samus stared at the wooden ceiling and closed his eyes. Maybe some sleep would make the hours go faster. He had been reluctant to let the remedy he used to relinquish bad dreams go to Karia, but she seemed to need it more than Samus. He'd dealt with bad dreams for nearly his entire life, he was sure he'd be able to handle a few more. He let darkness enshroud his vision and Samus slept. |
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| Karia Morsenia | Dec 15 2013, 09:00 PM Post #57 |
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Dragoness of Spellsongs
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After her session with Markus, Evania had wandered into the palace orchards, hunting for a sliver of sense of peace coming down off the high of an adrenaline rush from combat. It was one of the ways the twins' guardian knew how to best calm her stormy concerns. Now Evania walked between the apple trees, Markus himself not far away but gave her some space, keeping her in his sights. He insisted after the news of the assassination of Cecil. She grasped a low branch of one of the larger trees and hoisted herself up, climbing with ease to perch on one of the limbs. Elijah would come here with her often where they'd fill on apples and gossip, while throwing apples at one another and later collecting them to take back to the palace kitchen. He had said she was one of the few girls he knew of that could climb a tree with ease while wearing flowing, tearable skirts and look elegant at it. She wore one of those long skirts now that brushed the tops of her bare feet as she swung her legs back and forth, her thoughts trailing along with the moving sun across the sky. "Beautiful sky, isn't it?" Evania slowly turned to glance down at Silvius standing at the base of the tree with his hands behind his back. "Quite. Greetings, your Grace." "Come now, Evania. I think we can go beyond the prince and princess and other such titles to first names, can't we? You and I will be wed, after all." "Yes, that appears to be so," she said, her eyes returning to gazing at the horizon. "I know I'm not Cecil, but I truly would like to get to know you, Evania. You are a strong, charming young woman," Silvius said with a smile that made Evania feel slightly warm. She tilted her head at him, her own smile touching the corners of her lips. "I suppose you went and shared words with my brother." "Now I am sharing words with you, and perhaps will be sharing something more in the future." He held up his hand in offering for her to take it. She hardly ever took the helping hand from anyone when it came to standing or, say, jumping down from a tree, but this was the prince of Corvail and her future husband. She placed her hand in his, which he grasped tight as she jumped down and landed lightly on her feet. "You make it look so easy," he said with a small laugh. She flashed him one of her charming smiles. "It's something I've had many years of practice with. Something I've done with Elijah since we were young children." "Yes, I've heard a few of those tales, and I want to hear more from you. You stir curiosity within me, Evania. Curiosity about you and your past. Your thoughts and desires." His hand came up to brush one of her tresses of hair behind her ear. "Valencia is the Rose of Rotharia, and with you at its center. My brother and I had heard many stories of the beauty of the King and Queen of Rotharia's daughter. I'm not sure if Cecil had a chance to see this, but I see it's not only an outer beauty, but an inner one as well that combines with your strength and tact. You will suit the throne of Corvail at its finest." The warmth she had been touched with now pricked her like a fine point of a knife, a feeling in the back of her mind twisting with a hint of a warning. Silvius was dripping with charm, some of it, perhaps, seeming forced. Pretending for the time she didn't sense anything, she took the prince's hand and guided him down the path with a bright smile, sharing some of her childhood growing up. |
| “Solitude has soft, silky hands, but with strong fingers it grasps the heart and makes it ache with sorrow.” | |
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| VexSting | Dec 16 2013, 01:29 AM Post #58 |
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Stagehand
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Fraye wasn't exactly subtle about her drills. Her repetitive sword swinging came with a few loud grunts and enough of a whooshing noise that it was the only thing she could focus on. That is, other than tension in her hands around her sword. There wasn't much that could bother her; even her own tendency to not think didn't bother her. She thought briefly about why Baragos taught her to drill like this before every fight; she wondered if she would have been tired, but with each swing, she felt more alert, more focused, and more awake. Five-hundred-twenty-one...five-hundred-twenty-two...five-hundred-twenty-three... Tansa came out from below deck in her usual garb of a hunter green blouse, black pants and brown boots. She had her whip in hand and was about to put it away until she saw Fraye training. A sly grin formed as she uncoiled her whip and snuck up behind her. Five-hundred-twenty-six...five-hundred-twenty-seven... Thwack! Something snapped against Fraye's ankles. Then a second time, this time coiling around them. In her panic she tried to whip around and get into a more wide stance. But something tugged at her ankles and she went tumbling. First she fell towards her side, but her flailing caught her sword blade-down, at an angle that it slid instead of piercing the deck. Her sword fell from her hand and her flailing pushed her forward again. When she met the ground she thought she cracked her nose. Thankfully, the only thing that happened was what she thought was a broken cheekbone, though it did not throb like that. "Fucking hell," she yelled at the planks. "Who the fuck makes me trip swaying like that? Can you untie me?" Tansa laughed as she walked up to her. Fraye pushed herself to her feet, picked up her sword, and limbered herself again. She grinned--a good rush should knock Tansa off her feet. "A good fighter, that's what." Tansa undid her whip with a few flicks. "You say you are good fighter. At least prove your words true," she said while she kept her distance. She started to bounce on the balls of her feet while lightly flicking her whip. "A good fighter always looks behind them!" she lashed her whip at Fraye again and tried to get her sword hand. Fraye wasn't used to fighting opponents with whips. And Tansa as a sparring partner hit her on all of her weaknesses. The whip caught her by the wrist, and a flick of Tansa's wrist pulled her sword, and Fraye herself, forward. She faceplanted again. "Seareavers don't fuckin' have whips, Cuddles," Fraye said. Her voice once again was muffled in the planks. "This isn't fuckin' fair." "Since when do pirates fight fair?" she asked. "Scum like them do not play nice. So I do not place nice," she whipped after her feet again. She started to snap at Fraye while she was on the ground, close enough for her to feel it, but far enough to not hurt her. "You talk too much. Fighters need to think before fight," she said while she pointed to her own head and tapped it. Fraye flipped Tansa the bird. Then, she pushed herself to her feet. She limbered up again, but this time focused on the whip. It was a fast moving thing; the swaying of the vessel didn't help, but it was Tansa's wrist that gave it a motion she couldn't keep an eye on. She held her sword away from Tansa's whip. This was different from intentional sloppiness. Maybe I should do this more often with cuddles, she thought. Just thinking about how other foes do things. But really, that cracking noise was getting on her nerves. "Fuck that," she muttered. She, holding her free arm forward, lunged at Tansa, and waited for the whip to lash her before lunging forward. Tansa took a step back, surprised at Fraye's sudden change in stance. She eyed her carefully, from head to toe. She went all out by snapping and lashing the whip directly at her, while she moved towards her. "At least you have knack for surprises," she said. "But that may not help you for long!" She flicked the whip high in the air and brought it down on Fraye’s arm and pulled with all of her strength. So much for paying attention. Or half-paying-attention. Fraye tumbled past Tansa. She didn't realize that her arm was still tangled in the whip, and by the time she made it to her feet again, she had yanked on the whip. Tansa gasped as fell on her side with an audible thud. She regained her bearing and stood up quickly, straining as she tried to pull back on her whip. Fraye smirked. Gotchya, Cuddles. She planted herself--the deck was not very beneficial to this, as she felt her knees bend, and her feet slipping, but she was all for a game of tug-o-war. Tansa smiled. She looked at Fraye dead in the eyes. She let go with a small shrug. "Fuck you, Cuddles!" It was all Fraye could get out before tumbling backwards and onto the deck. She ended with her gaze to the starry sky this time, thankfully. Something about the stars moving was enough to get her to calm down again. Maybe the fact that they were just...there. "Hey, cuddles," Fraye said. "I...think I get it. Just Baragos's point, but taught better. Right." Tansa walked up to her, panting. "I want whip now please," she asked her. She plopped next to Fraye, panting heavily. "That was good fight. Still sloppy, but good. You have, uhm, the thing that helps you fight long," she said as she moves her hand in a circle. She grabbed her whip and coiled it. She fell back on the deck and looked up at the sea of stars. "Uh. Lastability stuff," Fraye said. "You know. Kinda like you've got footing...and stability. And good footwork. I don't know." Tansa looked at her with massive confusion. "I don't know what you say. It makes no sense, your words." "Ah, relax, Cuddles--it's something like fortitude or some shit." Tansa shrugged and looked back up at the sky. "At least the ones who passed are guiding us tonight," she said softly and smiled. "What'ya mean, Cuddles?" Fraye said. They already did pass a lot of people... Tansa rolled her eyes. "You have good mind for fighting and drinking but not for remembering!" She sighed. "The ones who have passed are the stars. They help others live lives while they find how to become human again. There are many. That is good for us." She gestures to the sky. "This many means that we are being watched closely. They also protect us from danger." "Ah! Okay! Fuck. How could I forget that?" Fraye said. In reality she knew-- for as long as she could remember, the stars didn't do shit for her. |
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| Samus | Dec 17 2013, 09:36 PM Post #59 |
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The Guardian
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After watching Silvius and Evania walk and talk through the gardens, Markus was oddly surprised at an invitation to join Prince Silvius Fahlbrecht for ‘drink’, delivered to him by the prince’s own guard. Such an informal offer came as something of a surprise to a traditional soldier of Rotharia like Markus Orelian. He’d never had ‘drink’ with King Perreria, and Markus had served the man his entire life, and had more than one conversation with him. He’d never been formally introduced to Silvius, and yet here was a slip of paper with the prince’s intricate handwriting upon it. At first, Markus was sure the note was meant for Evania. But no, there at the very top was written: ‘Markus Orelian; Defender of the Jewel of Rotharia.’ The title was rather extravagant for Markus, but he got the impression that extravagance was something he would have to get used to with Evania’s upcoming nuptials. In the young prince’s note, he had asked Markus to meet in order to ‘get to know’ the old warrior. Hmph. If Elijah had put him up to this, Markus would be sure to knock the young lad around the next time he saw him. As far as Markus was concerned, he didn’t care if Silvius liked him or not; but civil company and flattery seemed to matter to royalty. Markus steeled himself for the upcoming meeting and headed to Silvius’ quarters, leaving Evania and Elijah’s protection to the other members of the royal guard; men he trusted. “Enter, please!” The immensely friendly tone of Silvius Falhbrecht emanated from behind the great wooden doors to his apartments in the palace. Markus entered and marched to where Silvius sat behind the writing desk. Markus stepped to the desk, raised a fist to his chest in respect and went to one knee before the prince. “Markus, Markus! My friend! Please, don’t act so formally.” The prince implored him to stand and crossed the room to a table where several fine bottles and decanters stood. “Care for a drink?” “No, I…” “Of course you will, I insist.” The young prince pressed a wine glass into Markus’ hand and the old bear was taken aback. Never had a royal been so informal with him. “Your grace, I mustn’t.” “You must!” Silvius smiled at Markus and drank from his own goblet. “And please, none of the ‘your grace’ nonsense. Both Elijah and Evania consider you to be as close as family. And with the marriage, that makes us… Well, family!” He beckoned for Markus to drink again, and Markus did so. An order was an order after all. The wine was far too fine for Markus’ tastes, he was not used to such an expensive vintage, but he drank regardless. “A fine wine. My thanks.” Markus said stiffly. Silvius smiled still as he returned to sit behind the desk. Markus remained on his feet. “You and I share common interests.” Silvius began. “Evania is, and always will be, the most important thing to me. From what I understand, she is to you too.” Markus could do little but nod. “Yes Your Grace.” Silvius raised an eyebrow at the ‘Your Grace’, but let it slide. He seemed to understand Markus’ need for formality. He was, after all, a simple soldier of Rotharia. “From what Elijah tells me, you are likely to accompany us to New Xenthia?” There it was, Elijah. Markus had the young prince of Rotharia to thank for this. “I have yet to speak to the King, but I am sworn to protect Evania and Elijah, and will until my dying day. If Evania goes to New Xenthia, I will ask to accompany her.” There was a flash of a different expression on the Corvalian’s face at the word ‘if’ and Markus was struck for a moment that he may have overstepped his boundaries. But in a moment Silvius was smiling again. “You will love the city, I am sure. Have you ever been to that part of the world?” “Only once Your Grace. I visited the Godlands, many years ago.” “It is beautiful!” Silvius said. “However, if the King insists you remain with Elijah, I promise you that Evania will be safe at my side.” “That is a weight off of an old man’s shoulders Your Grace.” Markus had decided to fight flattery with flattery. “I have heard of your remarkable royal sword-arm.” “I am sure it in no way matches your own! The famous Markus Orelian, the man that stood between Ravon Venoux and his goal, and laughed!” Markus decided not to correct Silvius. The Marquis of Taedre, Lucien Goethe had been behind the infamous attempted coup of Valencia, though Ravon Venoux had been there, he was hired by Goethe. Markus had nearly died when he put himself between the Scarlet Shields and the royal twins. Silvius continued. “The man that fought the Saeronian Empire with tooth and nail. You are famous in New Xenthia my friend.” Markus was hopelessly outmatched, it seemed. “Your Grace is too kind.” “Though I trust the years have not rusted your sword arm? I would very much like to see your legendary prowess against that of the Imperial guard. We love to spar.” “I am not as fast as I used to be, of that I am sure.” Markus was beginning to like Silvius, the young man was quick and spoke of battle with vehemence. Perhaps he was wrong to be wary of the young prince. Markus gave him a rare smile. “But I’d be honored to show some of the Xenthian soldiers how we do things in Rotharia.” “I’m sure!” Silvius laughed although he genuinely enjoyed Markus’ company and toasted. “To the Defender of the Crown, Markus Orelian. Long may you stand at my wife’s side. Long may you defend her.” “Thankyou.” He raised his glass. “And to Your Grace. Long may you live.” |
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| Maria | Dec 17 2013, 10:44 PM Post #60 |
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Best Avatar Award 2013
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Priscilla had been lying on her cot, trying to pass the time with a little sleep when she heard the door open and someone crossing the threshold. Her hand was still wrapped around the wooden splinter. She didn’t sit up again until she heard the door slam behind her new cell-mate. She looked up and her heart skipped a beat. Priscilla leapt to her feet, stumbling on the train of her ruined gown, and brandished her wooden splinter. A young pirate boy stood in the doorway. “STAY BACK, SCOUNDREL! If you touch me I’ll… I’ll run you through! I’m WARNING YOU! My mother will have you flogged!” The 'boy' raised her arms defensively and took a few steps backwards. "H-Hey, wait - I'm not one of them! I'm from the Twin Mask. They... uhm, they took me too. My name's... Alex." She managed an awkward smile. "Alexandra, actually. S-Sorry about everything that's happened, but... look, you're not even gonna have to wait for your mother to get out of here. My people, they're coming. I know it." She watched Priscilla carefully for a moment, then suddenly held out the red, round piece of fruit in her hands to her. "Apple?" Priscilla stared blindly at the fruit for several moments before slumping down and dropping her splinter. She let out a sigh of relief and smiled at this girl, who clearly meant her no harm. Despite it only being a few hours since she had been put in this cell, Priscilla was quite grateful for the company. After spending most of her life surrounded by servants, ladies in waiting, and other members of the gentry these few hours of utter solitude had weighed heavily on her. A profound sense of loneliness was just beginning to set in when this girl came through the door. Even though she was a stranger, Priscilla immediately put it upon herself to make friends with this girl, who looked like a nice enough person. Priscilla smiled bashfully at the girl. “Oh thank goodness. I’m such a fool, my sincerest apologies, I should have known you were a girl. And thank you, I am quite famished.” Alex tossed it her way and Priscilla caught it, though she did not take a bite out of it. She held it in her palms, studying the patterns in its skin. After a moment, Alex’s words began to sink in, and Priscilla’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean your people are coming? The performers? From the theatre troupe? What makes you so sure?” Alex chewed her bottom lip as she fidgeted in place for a moment. "I don't think this was entirely about you. The Twin Mask, we're not just some silly band of performers - we've fought against the likes of these shitsacks before. I think maybe they thought taking you would hurt us as much as it'd hurt Avareux." She shakes her head quickly. "B-But, hey, joke's on them! They won't let this stand! We've sunk, like, six of their ships before, and this one won't be any different - a-after we get the fuck off of it, of course." Priscilla paled and began twisting the stem of the apple. “Is there no hope of settling this peacefully? I would hate to see you or your friends wounded or killed. My mother, she’s a very powerful woman, you see. Any ransom, any ransom at all, she’ll pay it. She has to, you see. I’m her sole heir…” "I... know my family well enough to know they won't let that happen." Hesitantly, Alex took a step forward, and placed a hand on Priscilla's shoulder. Her smile was apologetic. "I, uhm... I don't think there's any way this can end that doesn't involve bloodshed. I'm sorry. But, listen, nothing bad's gonna happen to you." She reached into the inside of her coat, and from within pulled out a silver dagger, which she pressed into Priscilla's free hand. "I promise." Priscilla stared at the dagger in her hands and began to shiver again. She took a bite out of the apple, its sweetness almost a shock to her senses, and lay back down on her cot, sobbing silently. |
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3:18 PM Jul 10