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∯ Oh Loredy...
455
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Sept 23, 2023 14:10:01 GMT
26,348
gervaise21
10,555
August 2016
gervaise21
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by gervaise21 on Aug 16, 2017 13:05:15 GMT
It was late evening in the harbour at Gwaren and the sun had already set. Within the tavern that adjoined the docks a strong melodic voice with the touch of a Dalish accent could clearly be heard:
“Okay final song for the night. Any requests?”
“Pull away!” yelled a voice in return and several other added raucous agreement.
“As you wish; Pull Away it is.”
The singer was a tall elf in a tunic and leggings, coloured alternately in black and white: the Pied Piper. He was strutting up and down on a long table in the centre of the room, encouraging the audience to clap along in time with the ditty.
“I thought I’d try a farmer’s life
But it was nothing but toil and strife
Up to my knees in mud and dung
A sailor’s life is far more fun
Pull away, pull away, for the tide will turn at the break of day
Pull away, pull away, for the sea is calling and I can’t stay
He played a short interlude on a reed pipe before launching into the next verse.
A shopkeeper I tried to be
But the settled life did not agree
I longed in my heart for the rough sea foam
Oh a sailing ship is my one true home
Pull away, pull away, for the tide will turn at the break of day
Pull away, pull away, for the sea is calling and I can’t stay
This time he added an energetic dance to his tune, his feet moving like quicksilver whilst his upper body maintained its rigidness in order not to interfere with his hold on the pipe.
I then took a turn as a publican
Pulling pints every day with my strong arm
But greater by far is the pull of the sea
Oh a sailor’s life is the one for me
Pull away, pull away, for the tide will turn at the break of day
Pull away, pull away, for the sea is calling and I can’t stay.
“Now you…” He called.
While the audience continued to repeat the chorus, the minstrel leapt from the table on to the floor and circulated among them, linking arms as he drew them into his dance. Finally he jumped back on the table, did another intricate dance along its length before launching himself into space off the end and turning a complete somersault before landing deftly on his feet, a signal to finish the song , yelling with gusto:
“Sulahn'nehn.”
There came an answering cheer from his audience. A large portion of them were sailors from the harbour and had been the ones who had requested the song. The singer liked these men; the majority were honest and hardworking people who appreciated the simple pleasures in life; food, ale and a merry song to go with them.
“Thank you, thank you my friends. And now if you will excuse me, I am needed elsewhere.”
With that he immediately headed for the bar where the tavern keeper was waiting for him with a knotted bundle.
“Just as you asked for,” she declared.
“You’re a great girl, Rosie, even if you do make me work hard for it.”
“Not as hard as I would like,” she gave smile and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
His long, silvery blond hair was dank from his exertions and he was conscious he smelled of sweat but apparently she still longed for him between her sheets, he reflected, or then again, maybe just a quick one up against the wall out back. Rosie was a buxom lady compared with elves but pretty for a human. The piper, though, was not interested in that sort of payment for his services.
“You’re a wanton lady and no mistake,” he teased her. “Just a kiss then.”
He learnt over the bar and gave her a swift peck on the lips as he recovered his staff from behind it. Even that small gesture brought a flush to her cheeks.
“Ma Serannas,” he winked, before turning away and heading for the door.
On leaving the inn, he turned away from the main highway into one of the side streets. The lanterns of the broad street immediately adjoining the inn soon gave way to dimly lit alleyways in which figures flit furtively in the shadows. He made his staff glow briefly so they could see his face and clothes. His lips curled in a knowing smile. They wouldn’t be troubling him. The thieves and cut throats of Gwaren had learned not to mess with the pied piper.
Finally he reached the gates that marked the entrance to the alienage and the hovels in which the elves lived in that city. As always he felt the sense of irritation and anger at what those gates represented, a barrier between the elves and a better life, even though many in the alienage insisted they were glad of the gates as it kept the shems out. Nothing would ever change with that attitude. The gates were symbolic of Chantry oppression as well as an elven desire for isolation. Neither was acceptable in his eyes.
The Night Watch let him pass through the postern gate and he headed for one of the larger buildings on the far side of the main square, dipping his head briefly in reverence to the Vhenadahl tree at its centre as he passed it by. The hovel looked better kept than many of its neighbours. The door was newly painted and there were flowers growing from pots hanging alongside it. On the door was the image of a magpie. It was crudely done but he didn’t mind; the child who had painted it had done her best. That was all that mattered.
He swiftly passed within to the main room of the house where two dozen eyes immediately turned to greet him, along with a dozen smiles. That was the number of children within the house, of varying ages and both sexes, not all of them elven, orphans of the city streets that he had gathered on his periodic visits to Gwaren. They were gathered together in a ring round an older girl who had a book in front of her. He had guessed he would arrive just in time before they departed to bed after their customary story.
“Good evening, Da’lens,” he bowed before them.
“Aneth ara, Ellas,” a chorus of voices responded.
Ellas grinned his appreciation of their use of the elven family greeting and they all ran to gather round and hug him.
“So have you got anything for us,” asked one of the younger children boldly, a red haired boy.
“That’s rude,” admonished the reader, still holding the book. “You should ask him how he’s been after he’s been away.”
Ellas chuckled. “That is very true, Elaria, but I’ll forgive Falos for his impertinence seeing as I have been gone a while and so it is only right that I bring you something on return.”
Ellas moved to a table at the far end of the room and the children gathered round as he deposited his bundle onto it and untied the knot. Within was a large collection of kitchen scraps of various types of meat that the tavern had no use for.
“Now no pushing or shoving and let the little ones have their share too.” He admonished the older children. “That is the way we do it among the Dalish. Everyone cares for each other and the strong protect the weak.”
It wasn’t much for each individual when shared out among them all but that didn’t matter. It was still more meat than elves in the alienage could afford to buy on a regular basis and ensuring everybody had some was the main message he wanted to impart.
An elderly elven woman appeared through the back door. Her face was careworn and weary but she still raised a smile when she saw Ellas.
“So you’re back at last. I see it went well.”
“Better than you think, Shirelle.” He produced a small pouch from his belt and handed it to her. Some inns and taverns have given me more than just kitchen scraps and their patrons have been generous.”
“That’s good to hear.”
He turned back to the children.
“So which story was it tonight, Elaria?”
She handed over the book that he had brought on his previous, Ferelden: Folklore and History, with the bookmark on the place where she had finished.
“The Ptarmigan,” he nodded approvingly. “And did you read it all yourself?”
The girl nodded.
“Well done,” he gave her an approving smile and Elaria beamed with happiness in response. “See you keep teaching the little ones as well.”
He looked back around at the other children.
“Off to bed now, sweet dreams. I’ll see you again in the morning and we’ll catch up.”
The children raised no objections for they knew Ellas well enough that it would avail them nothing. They departed for their various bedrooms and soon the room was clear.
He settled himself in a chair and gestured Shirelle to do the same.
“So,” he said, “what’s new?”
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
Prime Posts: 1814
Prime Likes: 2820
Posts: 857 Likes: 2,795
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193
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Aug 17, 2017 22:19:12 GMT
2,795
Nimlowyn
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
857
August 2016
nimlowyn
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
nimlowyn
1814
2820
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Post by Nimlowyn on Aug 18, 2017 1:04:27 GMT
 [OOC: At Chateau Brouillard, in a remote corner of the Dales, Orlais] Lavinia’s eyes flew open, and she gasped, a deep and desperate sound from the bottom of her lungs. She was not drowning. She lay in her bed in Chateau Brouillard. Its mahogany beams surrounded her, above her a canopy of blue damask and cloth of gold. The bed’s gossamer curtains swayed gently in the breeze from the east windows. In the west the waning moonlight cast long shadows upon the floor. All was still and silent. Lavina walked to the farthest western window of her chamber. She opened it wide. The moon hung heavy and low over the Dales, its light gleaming on the surface of the forest in a way that reminded her of the waters of Lake Calenhad. She took a deep breath. It had been almost one hundred and fifty days since Compassion left her. And the nightmares were getting worse. She did not sacrifice so much for it to come to this. She took another deep breath. She opened the neck of her grey silk dressing gown. The cool night air caressed her naked neck and chest. He burned her, still. She walked over to her writing table. She sat there contemplating in the calm, focused manner in which she was trained. One hundred forty-eight days, and the Comte’s affairs were settled. Now would be the time to return to the Imperial Palace. Judging by her letters, the Empress was very impatient to have the renowned healer by side. Rebuilding an empire after two wars turned out to be a very long and arduous process. Many things needed to be rebuilt. To be mended and restored. It had been some weeks, however, since Lavinia had last received a letter from her Empress. And it was a relief. She was no longer a Spirit Healer. She would return to court still powerful, but diminished. The whispers that would result could destroy her. Beloved as she was, even she was not impervious to the Grand Game. Lavinia took another deep breath. She closed her eyes. Distracted though the Empress may be, she could not leave them so long in silence. She must delay longer. She must find a way. She opened her desk and took out a parchment and a pen. Lavinia had been staring at the parchment for some time when the sun began to rise. Her pen had gone from resting in her hand, to on the desk, to in her hand again. No words were on the page. She had not anticipated Compassion would ever leave her. Wisdom took no interest in her. Hope was nowhere to be found. Faith denied her. It was unlikely that she would ever be a Spirit Healer again. For the first time in a very long time, she had no idea how to proceed. A sour feeling began to rise from her stomach. Whispers began to encroach at the edge of her mind, offers of alliance from the darker corners of the Fade. She quelled it with the sheer force of her will. I am Dame de Lumière. She smiled. She put the pen and parchment away. Her letter to the Empress would have to wait a bit longer. Her ladies-in-waiting would arrive soon. She went back to bed and lay in the manner of repose in which her ladies were accustomed to finding her. Not a moment after resting her head, Lavinia’s ladies-in-waiting, two humans and one elf, arrived, early, rushed and anxious. “You are early”, Lavinia said. “…And something is amiss.” “My lady”, Florence stammered, her freckled head bowed low. “Our deepest apologies”. She handed a crumpled, dirty letter to Lavinia. On it was the royal seal. It was a letter from the Empress. Lavinia opened it. It was weeks delayed. Lavinia looked up at Florence with calm and fierce eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” The girl’s faces tightened. The elf Faustine spoke, “It arrived not a half hour ago on the door step. It was abandoned along with…two other letters from Her Radiance.” Faustine produce two more letters, also crumpled and dirty. “What of the royal courier”, demanded Lavinia. “Letters from the Empress don’t just disappear.” She held out her hand and received the letters from Faustine. Her ladies stood quietly as she read them. They kept their heads bowed low, but Corinne couldn’t help but turn her gaze upward. She saw her lady’s eyebrows furrow in concentration, then surprise. At length, Lavinia said, in a cool, even tone, “I am to leave for Fereldan. Teryn Elain is in need of a healer. I am to be escorted forthwith by a gentleman named Cyrus….today.” Her ladies stared. “Please draw my bath.” ------ Lavinia sat at her vanity as Florence brushed the last strands of her dark hair to a bright sheen. A large oak tub sat on a dais at the center of Lavinia’s boudoir. Tongs in hand, Corrine and Faustine placed stones heated at the hearth into the water. The fire crackled and burned, and steam began to rise gently from the tub. Corrine and Faustine sprinkled the water with dried chamomile and lavender. Lavinia rose, disrobed, and took Florence’s hand up the steps of the dais into the tub. She reclined, her long hair kept dry trailing over the edge of the tub. She sighed. The Empress had been so impatient for her to return to Court. Weeks had passed without a reply to her last letter. Lavinia had assumed the Empress had accepted her requests for delay and had busied herself with running the Empire. This business with the missing courier and the delayed letters, abandoned at her doorstep, was highly irregular. Yet she had scrutinized the letters intensely. The handwriting, the seal, it was all royal. She wondered what would await her, if a man would truly come to escort her back…home. As Corrine and Faustine scrubbed her arms in circular motions, Lavinia’s eyes wandered around the boudoir. They fell to the great oak armoire, which now housed her simple robes. Flashes came back, the feel of its heft as she slid it across the floor, its hewn edges as she found with her fingers the secret door she had concealed with late night enchantments. Her chest burned for a moment at the memories and then subsided. She made a slight, sharp inhale. “Are you alright, my lady?” “Yes Corrine, thank you.” She looked up and smiled. “Please try to relax, my lady. Right now, this is your moment of peace.” “Thank you.” Florence laid out her lady’s robes and left to coordinate Lavinia’s departure. Faustine produced a pouch of hairpins and carefully wound Lavinia’s long hair up in a high bun. When it was secured, Lavinia leaned forward and gently splashed her face with the fragrant water. Corinne and Faustine scrubbed her back and décolletage. As they worked, Lavinia observed the lines of worry on their faces. “…You have no need to fear,” she said as she rose from the tub, beads of water flowing down her curves. Faustine gently dried her with a towel, and Corrine robed her and lead her by the hand down the dais. “You forget that I am a mage of no small power.” |
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The Smiling Knight
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Sept 23, 2023 5:56:51 GMT
21,413
smilesja
13,455
August 2016
smilesja
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Post by smilesja on Aug 18, 2017 5:19:13 GMT
picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg picresize.com/popup.html?images/rsz_a53.jpg (OOC: This plays when Cyrus arrives at Lavinia's Chateau. Could be a good theme for Lavinia too after reading Nimlowyn excellent post!) Takes place in the Dales, Orlais
Cyrus' Avatar: Dawn was breaking over the beautiful building of Chateau Brouillard, from the distance were two people looking over the structure. One was big burly Ferelden man who looked like he's in his early thirties. He had messy black hair and a black beard and wearing steel armor with a yellow cloth draped over it complete with a black falcon symbol. Over his shoulder was a massive Warhammer with golden engravings on the shaft. The other was a young woman, with short black hair and green eyes wearing a low cut black dress with magical scrolls around her waist. Her staff lay next to her and her partner's horse and she looked over the Chateau with a serious look on her face though it was the expression she would usually display "Oh man I can't believe this!" the man yelled with eagerness in his voice. "We're going back to my homeland Ferelden the thought of that just tickles my-" "If you're going to talk about your genitals again, I'm going to put a curse on you Markett." The woman said bluntly still overlooking the Chateau. "Oh boy, Ava is being a spoiled sport." Markett joked playfully rolling his eyes. "Must be a Tevinter thing huh?" "I'm reacting like any sane person would towards people like you." Ava retorted coldly finally turning to Markett and putting her hands on her hips. "But then again my expectations from a Ferelden Dog has been set a little too high." "Oh, cmon that you know don't mean that shit." Markett chuckled "It's one of the few times you've ever called me that. We've been working together under Cyrus for years and you haven't called me a Ferelden Dog. Something is pissing you off Ava." Not changing her expression Ava furrowed her eyebrows. "It's Cyrus, he's been obsessed with going to Ferelden for quite a while lately. Never mind the fact that we should be building expanding here in Orlais due to its powerful contractors and mercenaries that we can recruit. Ferelden has nowhere near the resources compared to Orlais even before the blight." "Well." Markett put his hands over his head. "Ferelden has some good hardworking people." Ava raised an eyebrow. "Compared to ex-Chevaliers, Freedman of the Dales and scholars from the University? I've recruited some of my friends from the University. They'l assist me with research and development of weapons, armor and potion making." "Why the hell would they give up an education to work for a mercenary group." Ava smirked, "Some of them owe me favors and some of them are just young and foolish, believing a mercenary's job is glorious." "It is glorious!" Markett laughed. Ava gave a small sigh. "I've been working around the clock getting in touch with my connections during my time in the Grand game in an effort to convince Cyrus that Orlais has everything we need to start expanding and recruiting for his war against the Qunari. It is also easier for me to establish a connection to home. But he wouldn't have it. Cyrus wanted a job so he can try to plead his cause to a lord or lady. So I pooled my list of contacts and they led me to Empress Celene wanting a bodyguard. Considering Cyrus' reputation the Empress chose him on the spot." "What's the job?" Markett asked. "To escort the greatest healer and grand player of the game," Ava replied with a mocking tone. "Lavinia de Fotein to Ferelden." "Don't like her much?" "There's.... rumors about her." Ava said "That I don't feel like saying right now. But I can talk about the person she's healing: Jon Elain." "Heard about him," Markett said, his expression turning serious. "A fat tub of goo, who's a corrupt bastard who follows his impulses." "So he's pretty much you except for being fat," Ava said cooly. Markett chuckled. "I'm a puppy compared that son of a bitch. Jon became the new Teryn after Loghain got ousted by King Allistair as a reward leading the attack on Denerim during the fifth. As soon as he took over he became an enormous ass who was very unpopular. The only reason he's Teryn is that he has powerful friends and he has a hell of a lot. Jon showers those who kiss up to him." Ava crossed her arms. "Lately he's dealing with a foot infection of some sorts and his lands are being raided. Knights and soldiers are being killed and farms are being razed. Considering what kind of person he is, I'm surprised it hadn't happened sooner." The sound of hoofs was heard at a distance. Ava and Markett stood a little straight alert. Ava squinted and her eyebrows as though she recognized one of the riders. "Stand down Markett." Ava said as Markett took out his Warhammer. The group of men came closer to the duo and stopped. At the front of the pack, was a huge man wearing huge black plated armor made of Volcanic Aurum with spiky pauldrons, enormous chainmail made out of Dragonbone and a plate helm with a narrow slit for vision. Behind his back was a simple Greatsword with runes of different elements embedded into it. The man stepped off his sturdy horse and approached the Ava and Markett. "Cyrus," Ava said much to Markett's confusion. "It's nice that you are wearing the armor I've made for you." Cyrus removed the helmet and handed it to Markett. "I can hardly breathe in that thing," He said irritably. "It protects you and you won't stick out too much once you are in Ferelden," Ava replied. "Do you realize how much money and effort I had spent into making your armor? My magical enhancements plus the materials makes you nearly invulnerable." "And slower and less agile," Cyrus replied bluntly "And unable for me to use my Reaver abilities," "You'll get used to it," Ava smiled a rare occurrence from a usually serious mage. "I must say sir you look like a badass!" Markell exclaimed while looking at the men Cyrus bought. "Who are they?" "They are mercenaries who are interested in joining the Black Falcons," Cyrus replied "They are to accompany you on your journey to Ferelden. How are we doing setting up in Ferelden Markett?" "Could be better," Markett replied. "We don't have much of a presence in Ferelden but Jack is doing what he can to recruit and expand," "Does he have a letter for me?" "No, he's been very hard to contact," Markett said "A letter?" Ava asked. "Yes." "May I ask what is it?" "It's personal business that is no concern of yours or Markett's," Ava crossed her arms already sure that she's not going to get any answers from Cyrus. "I've spoken to the people at the Chateau, told them to prepare for your arrival and that you would like to negotiate terms," "Good," Cyrus said as he looked at the Chateau. "What makes us strong is conflict," he said. Markett nodded smiling while Ava remained stone-faced already hearing Cyrus' speech many times. "We are men and women who have no loyalty to any country or person," Cyrus continued. "Our entire enterprise is conflict. Conflict gives us purpose, we learn from it and we evolve. Peace is not just getting rid of conflict entirely but rather enduring it," Cyrus stared at the Cheteau. "There is a great conflict in Ferelden with the Teryn. I intend to resolve it and gain favor from both Lady Lavinia and Teryn Elain. We grow stronger every day as we prepare ourselves against the Qunari threat." Cyrus clenched his fist in determination. The time to free his country and the world from the Qunari and ensure the legacy of the Black Falcons is, at last, becoming realized and no longer a dream. "Cyrus," Ava said. "There's still my home Tevinter, we can ally with them. They'll reward us immensely," Cyrus began walking towards the Chateau. "And lose our backers?" "Tevinter is stronger than all of them combined," Ava said. "We can easily crush the Qunari." While Cyrus was intrigued by Tevinter, he always found it a huge risk due to Tevinter's unpopularity with the other nations. He'll lose the loyalty of his backers and while all the mercenaries in the Black Falcons are extremely loyal to him. The alliance will really put that to the test. But with the Qunari growing dangerous and Rivain losing its identity to them every day. He had to at least consider the proposition"Well make negotiations before you leave." Cyrus responded craning his head towards her. "But be warned it's only for exploratory purposes." "Very well," Ava bowed. "Markett as I said gather those men and take them with you for training. I'll see you two in Ferelden," he muttered and Cyrus began walking. 30 minutes later. Cyrus arrived at the gates. "You must be Cyrus." A guard said. "The Lady is preparing for your arrival, please wait inside the grand hall." "Thank you," Cyrus said as the gates opened up, he's heard of Lady Lavinia for her grace and healing ability. Ava has talked a lot about her with reverence once until she heard all of the nasty rumors about Lavinia. Cyrus took it in stride, Ava was always wary of rumors, according to her there's an element of truth to most of them. Still, he was looking forward to making allies with the greatest healer in all of Thedas. OOC: What Ava and Markett look like: Ava: Markett: |
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NeverlandHunter
N3
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Mass Effect Andromeda
Posts: 450 Likes: 926
inherit
1805
0
Jun 17, 2022 11:33:54 GMT
926
NeverlandHunter
450
Oct 15, 2016 16:07:48 GMT
October 2016
neverlandhunter
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Mass Effect Andromeda
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Post by NeverlandHunter on Aug 19, 2017 18:49:46 GMT
"We should have hired a guard or two." "For staying a few nights in that hovel? Pah, a waste of coin." "Strange rumors have come from there." "There's always strange going-ons in Gwaren. What do you expect when they're nestled in the Brecilian forest?" A stout man and his worried companion spoke to each other from the docks as they watched their merchandise get loaded. "Be careful with that you great oaf!" A sailor's clumsy hold on a crate almost resulted with it being dropped. The sailor swore loudly and an argument soon broke out between him and the two merchants. The young woman who had been casually listening into the conversation turned her attentions elsewhere. From her spot on the docks everyone taking passage on the Graceful Lady would pass her and with her simple garb and her apparent focus on a book in her hands, few paid her any mind. She observed the bustling crowd that even a smaller vessel like the Graceful Lady drew when it was close to setting sail. A child said a tearful goodbye to her mother while a wife gave stern warnings to her husband regarding his fidelity. A middle-aged woman boxed a teenaged boy who came running to the docks out of breath and a man with a tray of trinkets in his hands interrupted the boy's protests by accosting the woman about his wares: anti-seasickness potions and charms of safe passage. "Sure to keep your voyage pleasant!" He was abruptly turned away to look for a more gullible soul who would buy from him. Three sailors nearby were idling with their work. "I'll be glad to leave Denerim for awhile." "Hopin' Betta's temper will have cooled by the time you return?" "I'm done with Betta, I tell you. There's plen'y of fish in the sea and ladies in Gwaren that'll appreciate a man like me." The youngest sailor of the group snorted. "An what're you smirkin' at boy? You can't even land yourself a lady to know the hardships we woman wooers endure," the first sailor remarked. "Hey now, leave off him, Nevan. I saw him with a letter earlier that had a woman's name on it. He has a secret a girl in Gwaren and just hasn't told your sorry ass." The second sailor winked at the third, who flushed red in return. "Hm, now ain't that interestin'. Are you havin' secret trysts with mystery ladies, Finley?" Nevan asked the younger man. "It ain't like that-- not that I couldn't have a girl there," Finley replied defensively. "The letter is for my aunt. My ma wants me to pay her a visit while we're in Gwaren." His companions broke out in laughter until the sight of Finley's sullen expression made them stop. "Didn't know you had family in Gwaren, Fin," the second sailor remarked. "What do they do?" A relieved look crossed the young man's face at the change of subject. "My aunt is a clerk. Paperwork and numbers, you know. Works with all sorts of pompous folk." "Sounds like a shit job," Nevan stated. The other two sailors nodded in agreement before starting at the sound of their first mate shouting at them from the Graceful Lady's deck. "You lazy gits better get up here before I decide you're not worth the space you take up!" The three sailors swore under their breath and grabbed the rest of the load going on board. The woman moved her book to her lap and caught the attention of the sailors. "Is the boat going to be ready for passengers after that?" She asked in a shy manner, while motioning to their load. Nevan grumbled as Finley slowed to address her. "Yep, we'll be ready for you just after this gets loaded up," he said kindly. She met his eyes and gave him a soft smile before Nevan shoved the crate the two were holding to get the younger sailor moving. She watched them go and lifted her book back up to hide the look of contemplation on her face. *** It seemed no safe passage charm was needed for the Graceful Lady's journey to Gwaren. The skies were clear and the breeze was steady and cool. The young woman from the docks was looking out at the sea, standing close to the young sailor from earlier who had kept her company most of the trip. The calming scene was interrupted by the sound of hurried running and retching over the rail. "I was worried I'd suffer from seasickness, myself, but everything has been pleasant." "You're a natural seafarer, Rhian. Some people never get used to sailing and it even took me some time to get my bearings on board," Finley confided to Rhian. She smiled at him. "But you seem so at ease and confident here." "Well, I have been doing this for three years and I've seen a lot in that time," he said with an air of importance. "And I've always loved the sea." "It must be nice to have something you know you can do." The young woman looked to the horizon putting on a suitably forlorn expression. "It is, but you'll get there, too. You'll find your trade in Gwaren and someone to apprentice under, without a doubt." She returned her attention to him and noticed his reassuring smile. Her answering expression was a small, noticably forced, smile and downcast eyes. "I just don't know where to start with so little to my name and no natural skills to impress with," she sighed. The sailor's smile slipped away as he looked at her pitiful figure. The grin was revived when a thought crossed his mind, though. "You know, I have connections in Gwaren, family actually." "Really?" she asked with feigned surprise. He nodded smartly. "My aunt is a clerk. I can't say if she'd be looking for help for herself, but she knows a great deal of people and could help you, I'm sure." "And you'd talk to her for me? That's so generous of you. I can't believe your kindness." The pleased look on her face was genuine as everything was playing out smoothly. She had her first opening and it wouldn't take her long in Gwaren to find more. Her employer hadn't given her much in how she should proceed, but she preferred the freedom and challenge of finding her own way in. A good start to her task made her less annoyed with her employer's previous antics. When her contact in Denerim suggested the contract, she hadn't realized she'd have to go through hoops to meet Farris the Representative and gain his approval. She was content to let him play his games, though. The coin was good and that's all that mattered. Land was soon spotted and Finley left to attend to his duties, while Rhian hummed a tune whose origins she couldn't remember and looked out into the distance as Gwaren came into shape. |
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Post by smilesja on Aug 20, 2017 7:32:09 GMT
Cyrus' avatarCyrus hated the way his armor clanked while he walked. The heavy armor made him feel sluggish he preferred to use his speed and strength in battle equipped with as little armor as possible. Any opponent who hit Cyrus would fall victim to his Reaver attacks. Now Cyrus was a bigger target than he was without his armor and despite Ava's assurances, Cyrus felt vulnerable and he hated the feeling of being vulnerable. The only reason why he even agreed to wear the armor was to blend in. Looking at the garden leading to the Chateau, Cyrus observed the cleanly cut bushes and the flowers sitting neatly on them. The lady sure loves her flowers. To the left of Cyrus was the statue of the previous owner: Alfonse de Fotein the previous owner of the Cheteau. Cyrus heard mostly from Ava that there was a bit of scandal when Lavinia Gainsborough changed her name to Lavinia de Fotein and the means of which she acquired Alphonse's Chateau after he died. Inserting Lavinia into Alphonse's will began rumors that she was his lover. There was apparently more to the story, but Ava had said she lacked concrete evidence at the moment. As soon as stepped on the white stairs leading to the entry way, the large brown doors immediately opened. There were armored men, equipped with Halberds with a man with black hair and a servant's suit behind them. "Excuse me, Cyrus?" The man in servant suit said with a Ferelden accent no less. Cyrus approached him "Yes?" He said with a bit of confusion in his voice. "I am Martin McLean," he said. "Lady Lavinia welcomes you to her Chateau, she is preparing for her departure and will be meeting you momentarily. Please If I may ask for you to hand the guards your weapons. It is just precaution and as soon as you and the Lady leave you'll be handed back weapons." "Of course," Cyrus gave Martin a slight smile as he removed his Greatsword and his knife and gave them both to the guard on the left. "Thank you, sir," Martin smiled. "Please follow me." Still agitated by the clanking of his armor, Cyrus followed Martin. The hallway was enormous, filled with paintings of Orelsian heroes and abstract art. There were multiple servants, a mix of humans and elves going about their business, washing the marble floor and expensive vases. Cyrus had been to Chateaus before but this one was impressive. "So Martin you are Ferelden," Cyrus said trying to start a conversation. "Yes sir I am," "How come you are in Orlais?" Martin sighed "Jobs, I was a soldier who fought during the Blight. My career ended when I took an arrow to the knee by a Hurlock archer during the battle of Denerim." Cyrus smiled. "You were a soldier? Thank you for efforts in stopping the Darkspawn," Martin blushed a little bit "Thank you sir, but I was a foot soldier doing my duty. Ferelden fell into hard times a little bit after the blight. No one wanted a former soldier with a limp knee." "A person who risks their for their country should be honored not abandoned. Ferelden was foolish for not helping you." Cyrus said sternly. The two approached a big staircase and began climbing it. "It was thanks to Loghain's incompetence that Ferelden was in this conundrum. I'm proud to serve my country and I would do it again. However, Ferelden had economic issues and I have a family to feed. You served in the Rivani military Cyrus," Cyrus shook his head, "I considered it, but I decided to be a mercenary and I made quite a career for myself. However, I always respect a person who risks their life for their country. Rivian though is going through an identity crisis thanks to the Qunari, and there are people who are will to take their country back." "You?" Cyrus chuckled "I will free my country from the dreaded Qunari whether they like it or not." The two eventually reached a door which is presumably where Lavinia was getting ready. "The Lady is there," Martin said. "She'll exit from that door and will meet you, I'll take my leave then. Farewell Cyrus and please take care of the Lady." Cyrus gave a curt nod. "I will Martin, stay strong and clear!" Martin left while Cyrus waited for Lavinia. |
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∯ Oh Loredy...
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Sept 23, 2023 14:10:01 GMT
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August 2016
gervaise21
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by gervaise21 on Aug 21, 2017 7:12:03 GMT
‘A heavy purse,’ Ellas focussed on those particular words on the notice. Of course heavy was a relative term. What was heavy to a child might be no more than small change to an adult. There was no denying , though, that extra gold would come in handy come winter. He doubted his earnings as the piper would see them through even with various little market gardens schemes he had established in the alienage to supplement their diet. Shirelle had needed all of the reward from Bann Sighard, after improvements had been made to the hovel, in order to get through the previous winter and there was no telling when there might be extra mouths to feed.
‘Teyrn Jon Elain,” those were the other words to come in for particular consideration. There was the nub of it essentially, what caused him to hesitate. Had the request been made by Bann Sighard that would be a different matter; he could be relied on to come through with the promised reward and you had no qualms about working for him since he would never ask you to do anything immoral.
Shirelle had confirmed that there had been the murders among the knights and soldiers as indicated, servants from the alienage having been kept busy preparing wakes for the dead on a fairly regular basis. Jon would use any excuse to have a feast, even the death of his retainers. A few hours in the tavern mingling with the patrons had verified the information about the villages bordering the forest, although the loss of inhabitants was a euphemistic way of saying they had been massacred. There was some discrepancy over numbers, though. One of the woodsmen he spoke to said they didn’t add up. One village he knew about should have had more dead than accounted for. This last one was easy to account for; most probably the survivors had fled into the forest and were too frightened to return or had perished there.
This suffering of the freeholders and villagers bothered him far more than the death of the retainers who were largely the only thing keeping the Teyrn in power. Not only was his concern for the former’s welfare genuine but there was always that fear in the back of his mind that people would start pointing fingers at the Dalish once more. He knew that they had thought it expedient to move further north in the forest where they would fall under the jurisdiction of Bann Sighard but that wouldn’t stop the rumours if people started looking for a target for their fears. Then, if speculation could not be quashed by definite evidence to the contrary, the blame might be extended to all elves and that would bring the inhabitants of the alienage into danger.
He decided not to apply for the job but to infiltrate the palace in a different way to assess the situation from within. That way he could remain a free agent and conduct his own investigations as to what was going on, taking any action that he thought necessary to preserve the safety of his people.
‘Terms to be negotiated’. He wondered, whimsically, if it any of the mercenaries had thought to ask for Teyrn Elain’s weight in gold.
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NeverlandHunter
N3
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Mass Effect Andromeda
Posts: 450 Likes: 926
inherit
1805
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Jun 17, 2022 11:33:54 GMT
926
NeverlandHunter
450
Oct 15, 2016 16:07:48 GMT
October 2016
neverlandhunter
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Mass Effect Andromeda
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Post by NeverlandHunter on Aug 21, 2017 11:30:52 GMT
There was a disquiet to Gwaren. An unrest that affected the city in subtle ways. The arrival of the Graceful Lady was met with the usual enthusiasm that an isolated area gives to a ship full of goods, but there was a tightness to the smiles of the local dock dwellers. Walking into the city made the mood more apparent. The town gossips' usual exultant tones were hushed and the couriers, that slipped through the streams of people to get to their destinations quickly, wore harried expressions.
Rhian's fingers had itched to steal a letter away from a distracted boy who had almost ran right into her, but as she had been walking with the attentive sailor, Finley, she hadn't taken the chance.
What she had lost in not being able to scope out Gwaren initially, was made up for quickly enough with meeting the sailor's aunt, Rhonda. She was a woman who liked to put on airs of self-importance. It didn't take much in the way of flattery or innocent enough leading questions to get Rhonda to share details that were originally "too unsavory for guests". Said unsavory details were very enlightening to Rhian. Soldiers, knights, and villagers dead. It was a wonder the Teyrn had been able to keep everything quiet for as long as he had.
Rhian took a sip of her tea and smiled politely at something Rhonda said while she thought to herself. She had found the reason behind the stall in lumber production-- an absence of lumber mill workers-- and the truth behind Teyrn Jon's claims that everything was fine-- no, it was not. There were more questions to be answered, though. She had a guess to the answer of her first question: why Teyrn Jon had yet to ask for help. The man was probably fearful of the backlash this display of his ineffective leadership would obtain. Still, a guess was hardly good enough, and there were two greater questions that were complete mysteries to her. Who was responsible for the killing and what was their purpose for doing it?
"...and now he's offering up a purse to anyone who'll go and figure out what's going on?" Rhian's attention was drawn back to the conversation between Rhonda and Finley. "Seems a little desperate, if you ask me," Finley finished.
Rhonda harrumphed. "It is a desperate situation. Teyrn Jon doesn't wish to continue to waste the lives of his knights against an unknown enemy. Who knows if the city is in danger? We need our soldiers here to protect us. A few brave souls willing to uncover who is behind these acts is just what we need."
A debate with herself was running through Rhian's mind as her company spoke. It was the perfect opening to figure everything out. It also seemed like a great way to get herself killed if she wasn't careful... but she always careful and there was more money on the line now. A purse from the Teyrn and what she could wring from her employer for the added danger. Plus, the mystery compelled her. She wanted to know what was going on. Curiosity could be a greater weakness than greed.
She sat up straighter in her chair and clenched her fist. "All those innocent people... dead. And who knows how many more could follow if someone doesn't stop whatever evil people are doing this. This isn't something that the Teyrn should have to bribe people for! We should all want to help as much as we can!"
"Too true, dear!" Rhonda nodded and hit her hand on the table, caught by Rhian's passionate display.
"That's why I'll volunteer!"
Finley choked on his tea. "Wait, what?"
"Dear, let's not be rash..." was Rhonda's reply.
"How can I sit back when I can help? And this is my chance to prove myself. I'll join the people going out to stop this madness and assist in whatever way I can." Rhian thought she might have overdone it a bit, but Rhonda was back to her enthusiastic nodding, this time with a glisten to her eyes.
"And I will help you in whatever way I can! I might be too old to pick up a blade myself, but I can see that you're taken care of! I know just the person that can take you to the Keep tomorrow-- after a stop to the market to get you outfitted. You'll want to make an impression!"
The two women continued to chat passionately while the young sailor shook his head, perplexed. Rhian would have to work on him later, to end his interest in her, since she no longer had any use for him. Loose ends only ever led to trouble.
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heathenoxman
N2
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Jade Empire, Mass Effect Andromeda
XBL Gamertag: rohlfdawg
PSN: rohlfdawg83
Posts: 239 Likes: 454
inherit
751
0
454
heathenoxman
239
August 2016
heathenoxman
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Jade Empire, Mass Effect Andromeda
rohlfdawg
rohlfdawg83
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Post by heathenoxman on Aug 22, 2017 19:47:03 GMT
[OOC] Okay, here I go. Just be advised that I've never read the novels, so I may not be as knowledgeable about the DAverse as the rest of y'all. If I muck something up, just point it out, and I'll fix as necessary. This post is primarily to introduce my character and get going. [/OOC]
A single green leaf drifted in lazy patterns as it drifted down towards its final destination among the soft loam of the forest floor. The sun was a purple-reddish smear of jam on the western horizon as it set on yet another day of hard traveling through the Brecillian Passage towards the remote city of Gwaren.
Ozek sighed and sank down further against the oak tree that she currently sat propped-up against. With the slight breeze, the rustling vegetation, and the constant drone of insects in the air, it could almost pass for a pleasant summer evening. Except, of course, for the fact she was dressed in nothing but her smallclothes and a pair of boots. The rest of her clothing was distributed in a haphazard fashion, draped over branches and bushes alike, slowly dripping dry after an unceremonious dunking in in a rain-swollen creek.
Normally, she was a picture of style and grace; a tightly controlled, silent symphony of movement ready to burst forth in a flurry of flips, jabs, twirls, and slashes. For a Qunari, she was more akin to a halla in the way she flowed physically through her surroundings. However, an unwise decision to attempt to wade through a creek as opposed to finding a better place to cross had seen her left foot plant itself on an unstable rock, which led to to Qunari's tumble into the frantic, gushing, muddy water. As it was, she had found a decent clearing in which to make camp and start a low fire so that what was left of her travel-worn garments could dry out. Thankfully, the path she had elected to take was not often sought by other wayfarers, so she was relatively sure she would not have the displeasure of surprising an unwary soul with the specter of a half-naked Qunari sitting in the middle of the forest.
She sighed. Gwaren was only about another day's hike to the west. This was incredibly fortunate since the flagon of mead she had won from a dwarf in the last village had come un-capped during her mishap, leaving her with only water to drink. Utterly unacceptable. No, when she achieved Gwaren, it was straight to the nearest tavern, and perhaps the the chanter's board to find work. The gold would come in handy, if, for nothing else, to buy a few spare tunics.
She jabbed the fire a few more times with a stick and laid out on her bedroll. At first light, it was to be her final push towards her destination.
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
Prime Posts: 1814
Prime Likes: 2820
Posts: 857 Likes: 2,795
inherit
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0
Aug 17, 2017 22:19:12 GMT
2,795
Nimlowyn
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
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August 2016
nimlowyn
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
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Post by Nimlowyn on Aug 22, 2017 23:35:08 GMT
[OOC: I could not find or remember an Orlesian manner of address that would fit Cyrus, so I went with Serah, as it is used in The Free Marches. Being as Serah and Messere both descend from the time of the Orlesian occupation, I thought this was an appropriate analogue. I would be happy to change it if new info becomes available.]
[OOC: Lavinia's private apartments in Chateau Brouillard]
Florence, Faustine and Corrine were making the final adjustments to Lavinia’s simple silver mask and blue-grey traveling robes when a soft knock was heard on her door.
“Come in”, Lavinia called, in her deep, musical voice.
Madeline the head housekeeper entered. She was a slight woman in her late forties with pursed lips.
“My lady”, she said with a curtsy, “Serah Cyrus has been received in the drawing room with all due courtesy provided-“
“Has he been given refreshment”, Lavinia interrupted in a gentle tone.
“Yes my lady. Rèmi has seen to his comfort with a full spread.”
“Very good. A traveler requires immediate refreshment”, Lavinia said, and she shot Madeline a look. “I do hope that he has been entertained as well...and not given a tour of my solar or private apartments this time.”
There were key differences in etiquette between country estates and the city estates with which Lavinia was accustomed, and she had worked hard to train the staff to her standards after the passing of the Comte and Comtesse. Few country habits were as irritating as the Comte’s approach to receiving guests in the drawing room. She recalled the many debates she had with Alfonse over his practice of leaving guests to stand waiting outside its doors, instead of showing them in. It was uncouth, she argued, to not seat them, nor should they wait for the heads of the household to receive refreshments. He would retort that guests were adults that could seat themselves and that allowing a guest to refresh themselves alone was, in fact, uncouth. Lavinia maintained that all guests should feel important, and attentiveness was how this was achieved, not only for sake of polite society, but as a crucial tactic in the Game. Then he’d scoff, she’d protest, he’d nibble her neck, she’d drag her nails up and down his back, and they would make love on the sheets or on the rug like two spring animals. But when she persisted, he realized their debates were not simply playful banter, and he furrowed his brow and reminded her whose house she was criticizing. This is how it is done in the country, he said, and I will not concern myself with the Game when I have escaped it to my summer home.
She had dropped it. But she was Comtesse of Chateau Brouillard now. While she persevered in applying her standards, they were slower to take hold than she liked. The staff were set in their ways, particularly the head butler McLean. She was fortunate that Madeline, as head housekeeper, was generally favorable to the changes, as well as some of McLean’s more cosmopolitan footmen, such as Rèmi.
Florence, Faustine and Corinne began to pack Lavinia’s personal affects as she continued, “And what is the state of my carriage?”
“It awaits your pleasure, Comtesse.”
“Excellent. Please inform our guest that I will be down shortly.”
“Yes, my lady,” Madeline said, her skirts swaying as she turned on her heels.
----
Lavinia walked down the hall, flanked by her ladies-in-waiting. The heavy blue and gold drapery had been pulled back from the high windows, the rays of the new morning falling down from a great height upon them. All along the white stone walls were gilded niches where stood exquisite statues of Andraste, Mafareth, Drakon and Archon Hessarian in white and gold. Elsewhere hung oil paintings in deep, rich colors and various sizes, depicting in portraits and family scenes the generations of de Fonteins who had inhabited Chateau Brouillard. The mahogany credenzas and chairs, gold fixtures, and the Antivan marble and rugs upon which they walked were being cleaned and polished by maids, who stopped their work and curtsied as Lavinia passed by. She nodded to them in a highly unconventional token of acknowledgement. Some loved her for it. Others found it profane. Some of the staff would distrust her no matter what, being a mage. It was irrelevant. Though she was not a de Fontein, she was the rightful Comtesse of Chateau Brouillard. She willed the air to crackle gently around her as she passed.
As Lavinia and her ladies came to the grand staircase and descended, Lavinia heard music emitting from the drawing room. She smiled to herself. As they approached its great oak doors, the footman that stood at either side bowed deeply. Her ladies-in-waiting curtsied and withdrew. The footmen opened the doors and together, in one booming voice, cried out, “Lady Lavinia of Chateau Brouillard!”
She entered, laugher in her eyes and kindness in her voice. She laid her eyes on Cyrus.
“Welcome, friend, to Chateau Brouillard.”
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The Smiling Knight
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Post by smilesja on Aug 23, 2017 1:37:49 GMT
Cyrus stood in front of the door, his hands at his back at attention. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for what's to come when guarding Lavinia. As far he knows, Lavinia has no rivals. But in his experience, it's best to be prepared for the unknown, no matter how simple a task may be. Cyrus remembered his first job when he was barely 18. He was assigned to escort a traveling merchant to Dairsmuid. They were about half way to the capital when they were ambushed by bandits. Cyrus managed to kill them all, but he was grievously wounded and would've bled out if it weren't for the merchant healing him. The door swung open and an orlesian man with slick black hair looked up at Cyrus. "Serah Cyrus my name is Remi," He said. "The lady is continuing preparing for her departure. In the meantime, I would like to direct your attention to the wonderful meal our cooks have prepared for you. Please follow me." Remaining silent, Cyrus followed Remi to a marble table. The contents on it were Venison soup and Chocolate Mousse. "The lady will be with you shortly," Remi said. "Enjoy your meal sir," Cyrus nodded "of course," he grinned as he sat down and began eating. The Venison soup was delicious and the Chocolate Mousse wasn't bad at all. He ate all, using the napkin to wipe off the soup from his mouth. Afterwards, Cyrus then lifted his hand and began to feel the lack of warpaint across his face. He loved wearing warpaint as it gave him a psychological edge over his opponents. Cyrus didn't think he would since he was going to wear the helmet Ava provided for him. However, he could barely breathe and decided a helmet wasn't worth it if he was to suffocate. Taking out a small container filled with white paint. Cyrus snapped it open, dipped his thumb and began applying a long white stripe across his face. While he was doing so, a middle aged woman looked at him with fear. "Oh my....." She whispered. Cyrus, who just finished noticed the woman and was amused. "Do not be afraid!" He smiled "What do you need?" Composing herself the woman spoke. "Lady Lavinia's arrival is imminent, please allow me to collect your plates. "Of course," Cryus got up and headed to the grand stairs while the woman began cleaning his plates. As soon as he came to the step. Cyrus gave a small sigh. "Time to go to work," He muttered. He needed the Lady's support and he was determined to get it. After about 4 minutes of waiting. The door on top of the grand stairs opened and a small band came out and began playing an Orlesian tune that was familiar to Cyrus, but he forgot what the song was called. Lavinia arrived, the ladies in waiting were briefly by her side before they left into the room behind them. Cyrus couldn't help but stare at her, there was a grace to the way she moved complimented by her humble robe and simple mask. Ava's description of her was accurate. “Lady Lavinia of Chateau Brouillard!” A booming voice shouted by the soldiers guarding the door. Cyrus began to kneel with his head down. A sign of respect for a woman of Lavinia's stature. Lavinia slowly approached Cyrus. "Welcome, friend, to Chateau Brouillard.” she said in a calming, majestic voice. Cyrus raised his head to look at Lavinia, though he still knelt. "My lady," he began. "It is an honor to meet you, my name is Cyrus and I've been assigned by Empress Celene to be your bodyguard. I am considered to be one of the best mercenaries in Rivain with years of experience around Thedas. I've played the grand game and I have fought in many battles including slaying a Dragon. I will do everything in my power to guard you with my life." Cyrus stood up not breaking eye contact with Lavinia. He was surprised how tall she was, he normally dwarfed a lot of men and women. He wanted to ask Lavinia about sending some of her guards to aid his cause against the Qunari but now is not the time yet. "You look absolutely lovely, my lady," Cyrus said. "A combination of grace and humility fit for a master healer such as yourself. The stories do not do you justice." Flatter your client. It was one of the first things Cyrus learned when he became a mercenary. Cyrus began smiling at Lavinia. "So my lady, shall we depart?" Nimlowyn |
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∯ Oh Loredy...
455
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Sept 23, 2023 14:10:01 GMT
26,348
gervaise21
10,555
August 2016
gervaise21
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by gervaise21 on Aug 23, 2017 19:36:50 GMT
As he approached the Keep, Ellas was quite astonished to discover how apprehensive he felt. It wasn’t the reputation of the Teyrn that bothered him directly but it was those large forbidding walls to the Castle. Ellas had never been inside any sort of stone building. The taverns he had frequented were usually made of timber or wattle and daub. Even those had felt claustrophobic initially after a life spent outdoors but he had conditioned himself to accept it. In any case they usually had enough openings in them in the form of windows and doors that it should be a relatively easy thing to escape if the need arose. The Castle felt too much like a trap.
Still he had the assurance that elven servants generally went unnoticed so long as they performed their duties efficiently. They were the unseen hands that kept everything running smoothly and enabled those of higher status to indulge themselves in whatever fashion they chose. Occasionally one might be unfortunate enough to attract unwelcome sexual attention but on the whole this tended to be the female staff rather than the male and luckily it would seem that Jon Elain's perversions didn't seem to run to elves of either sex.
Ellas was also less noticeable than he might normally be having dyed his hair a dark brown and coloured his skin to a duskier shade than it already was from a summer spent travelling the roads of Ferelden. It would wash out easily enough, so he would have to be careful not to get caught in the rain, but it did mean that he would more easily pass for one of the usual regiment of servants and it was unlikely anyone would recognise him or make the connection with the Pied Piper.
The servants' entrance stood open, with a single guard on hand to wave them through. He passed within and headed for the direction of the kitchens. The servant whom he was replacing that day was generally kept busy either transporting food to the Great Hall or taking smaller requests to individual rooms within the Keep. This would allow him the perfect opportunity to witness the behaviour of the Teyrn and his guests first hand and to be wandering around the place without arousing suspicion.
Not long after arriving in the kitchen, another order came from the Great Hall. He took a couple of platters with various small cooked game birds and followed the other servants.
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NeverlandHunter
N3
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Mass Effect Andromeda
Posts: 450 Likes: 926
inherit
1805
0
Jun 17, 2022 11:33:54 GMT
926
NeverlandHunter
450
Oct 15, 2016 16:07:48 GMT
October 2016
neverlandhunter
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Mass Effect Andromeda
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Post by NeverlandHunter on Aug 25, 2017 15:16:22 GMT
The Gwaren market was larger than Rhian would have guessed. She supposed the Teyrn's extravagant tastes needed to be supplied. Rhonda chatted away as she led Rhian to various stalls and the inside of different shops.
"We want you to cut a fine figure! You need to make an impression, you know. Not just to the Teyrn, but to Master Callo, too! He'll take you up to the Keep with him if he decides he likes the looks of you, but he has a critical eye." Rhonda shook her head. "He's been a client of mine for years, a wonderful man, really, but hard to handle at times."
"In what way?" Rhian asked with real curiosity.
"He has his eyes set on a title and he's the kind of man that won't stop until he reaches his goal. Ah, now look, this is perfect." They had stopped in front of a stall set up next to the entrance of a blacksmith's workshop. Rhonda scanned the various arms and armors. "Hm, let's see..."
The older woman gravitated towards the flashier weapons. They were, however, a little more costly than she anticipated, which was fortunate for Rhian, as it was at Rhonda's dissatisfaction that the young merchant suggested some humbler, but more durable weapons. A sword was bought along with a dagger of matching design, a duelist's weapons, Rhian guessed. Perhaps not the most preferable choice for a jaunt through the wilderness, but she would make it work. The padded armor that was added to the purchase, she knew she'd never don, but she could sell it later on.
"Now..." Rhonda rummaged around her purse, pulling out a handful of glistening coins. "You should be able handle getting yourself some new travel clothes." She handed the coins to Rhian who was already cheered by the prospect of shopping for herself. "And put your armor on and the blades while you're at the tailor's." Less cheered now. The armor was not going to be easy to move around in. "I'm going to go and find Master Callo."
The women went their separate ways. Rhian to outfit herself in clothing that would be sufficiently striking enough for Rhonda, while also being practical, and Rhonda to find Rhian's way into the Keep.
***
"Rhonda, where did you even find this one?"
Edric Callo, the wealthy client of Rhonda's, wasn't half the fool Rhian had been expecting. He carried himself with the arrogance of rich men, those who expect to get what they want, when they want it, but there was a sharpness to his eyes and an insecurity to the way he stroked his jewels, that made Rhian sure he wasn't born into luxury. He assessed her like a merchant about to make a purchase on some cheap goods, unsure whether the reduced price meant fault in the product. He seemed to believe it did.
"Master Callo, she came to me seeking assistance in finding her fortune, but was swept away by the sad tale of the murdered villagers and the unfortunate knights who tried to avenge them!"
At Rhonda's words Callo narrowed his eyes. "I let it be known a week prior that I needed a hardy youth to volunteer to accompany me out into the Brecilian Forest along with whomever else the Teyrn deems... worthy. Volunteer, meaning I will not pay you." He looked expectantly at Rhian.
"I don't need coin from you. When our task is complete we'll each get a reward."
"If you make it back. This is no game, girl. Death might await us." Callo's fingers touched the hilt of his sword, the only item on his person that looked like it had been chosen for functionality rather than display.
"I can fight." She tapped the sword at her side. Some youthful posturing for effect.
"Hm, anyone can fight when necessary. Surviving is a different matter all together." She decided she liked this man. "Why do you want to do this? The real reason, not whatever bleeding heart speech you gave Rhonda."
The real reason? Money, curiosity, and the challenge of completely a difficult task. She said, "I want to make a name for myself," instead.
Callo nodded. "We're of like minds, you and I. Though my name carries weight, I have yet to gain the recognition I need to win the Teyrn's favor. I could say that there's something about you I like, but I'm settling for what I'll get. I'll take you up to the Keep with me to meet the Teyrn." Rhonda clapped her hands in excitement. "Rhonda has made you look the part, you best act the part. I will not be made a fool in front of the Teyrn."
"I'll follow your lead, Master Callo," she bowed her head respectfully.
"Then let us go, I've wasted enough time already."
With hurried thanks and a goodbye, Rhian left Rhonda's company to join Callo in his carriage up to the Keep. Soon she would see for herself the man Teyrn Jon was said to be.
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heathenoxman
N2
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Jade Empire, Mass Effect Andromeda
XBL Gamertag: rohlfdawg
PSN: rohlfdawg83
Posts: 239 Likes: 454
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heathenoxman
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Jade Empire, Mass Effect Andromeda
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Post by heathenoxman on Aug 25, 2017 18:54:08 GMT
"No, I absolutely do not have a need for powered snowfluer testicles," Ozek huffed, but the oily little man persisted.
"But, you see, they have long since proven to be an essential ingredient in the beauty regimen of many a fine lady!"
Ozek narrowed her eyes and took the measure of the merchant. He was short, fat, and, as previously observed, oily. He had odd patches of facial hair growing in an irregular pattern on his jowls, which made her wonder if he suffered from some sort of skin affliction. She wouldn't even be standing in front of his stall had he not practically jumped out and dragged her over.
"Perhaps you would be more interested in a keepsake to remember your time in Gwaren? A-ha! I have just the thing. An exquisite wooden carving of our noble Teryn!" He handed her a figurine depicting a square-jawed warrior triumphantly wielding a sword while striking a heroic pose. Ozek raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"No, look, I really have to be going," and, with that she turned assertively away to be swept up in the hustle and bustle of the seaside marketplace. She managed to take two steps before the merchant came stumbling after her.
"But, wait! I'm sure I can interest you in something. Everette, stupid boy, watch the stall!" He came around the corner of his table and hurried to match the much longer strides of the Qunari. Ozek sighed and did her best to tune him out and appraise her surroundings. After spending so many weeks in the forest, it was always a bit of a shock to re-enter civilization. Nature was full of jagged lines and irregular shapes, while cities and towns were defined by grids and angular geometric patterns. On a whim, she reached out a hand to feel the rough surface of a brick wall as she walked by. Now, the little man was holding up a bolt of perhaps the ugliest cloth in Thedas. Seriously, it looked like two gaudy Orlesian couches humped under the evil gaze of an arch-demon to produce a fabric so vile it could bury entire armies.
He continued extolling the virtue of his wares while pleading his case, "Please, miss, business has been practically non-existent since the troubles began!"
She was about to reply, "That's because your merchandise is nugshit," but the second half of his statement caught her attention.
"Wait, what do you mean "troubles?" Troubles in cities often presented decent economic opportunities for out-of-work mercenaries. The merchant started to answer her, but then his eyes lit-up with an idea.
"I could tell you, but information doesn't come cheap." With that he held up the hideous cloth with a flourish and a greasy smile. Ozek rolled her eyes and removed a few coins from her coin purse. The she waited expectantly.
"People, miss, people have been going missing. Soldiers, sailors, merchants. Vanishing without a trace. The Teryn has been calling for any brave soul willing to investigate, and promising a fat purse as a reward!"
"Wonderful. Now shove-off."
The man waddled away, quickly being swallowed by the crowd. Ozek looked despairingly at her purchase. Oh, well. She could always use it as a dracolisk blanket. As for the "troubles," her daggers could use some action and Maker knows she needed the coin, so, perhaps now was the time to inquire at the Teryn's chateau.
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
Prime Posts: 1814
Prime Likes: 2820
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“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
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August 2016
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Post by Nimlowyn on Aug 26, 2017 7:21:46 GMT
Lavinia’s silk slippers made no sound as she strode toward Cyrus, robes swirling, palms upturned in welcome. She stood before him and curtsied, before clasping her palms together just below her ribcage. "You look absolutely lovely, my lady," Cyrus said. "A combination of grace and humility fit for a master healer such as yourself. The stories do not do you justice."She laughed, a gentle, playful chuckle with an almost imperceptible edge. Her face turned upward briefly, revealing her pale neck. A flatterer. Cyrus began smiling at Lavinia. "So my lady, shall we depart?"She held his gaze with hers, her face never changing, except perhaps for a slight shift in the light of her eyes. There came a slight chill in the air around her. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Serah Cyrus of the Dark Falcons. The reputation of your company is known, even here, far away in fair Orlais.” He was almost as tall as a Qunari, and powerfully built. He looked fierce and war worn, yet, in this moment, uncomfortable in his own skin. Her eyes flickered through her silver mask, searching. “I do apologize for having kept you waiting, and for having you served a full meal alone. You see, I was not actually aware of your arrival until this morning. The Empress’ letters were…somehow delayed.” She broke her gaze on Cyrus to seat herself at a burgundy-gold chaise longue directly behind her. She sat with a straight spine, spreading her robes neatly about her. A maid immediately served her hot tea in a china cup and saucer. Looking up at her she said, “Thank you. Please bring Florence, Corrine and Faustine to me.” The maid curtsied and turned on her heels out the door. Lavinia took a sip of her tea, and gazed into Cyrus. “My private carriage will follow your company out of the Dales. I will bring with me two footmen and one of my ladies-in-waiting. I will trust the Empress that you will see us safely through the Frostbacks.” She sighed and took another sip. “I suppose it will have to do that we draw out our meeting between the drawing room and the road.” |
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Post by smilesja on Aug 26, 2017 17:40:33 GMT
static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/images/aegon_iv_targaryen_woiaf_5318.jpg Teryn Jon Elain (NPC) (OOC: Takes place in the Keep in Gwaren. Song lyrics by gervaise21 ) The Teryn wiped the huge beads of sweat on his forehead listening to the farmer drone on about how his wife and son are missing. The Keep was known to be cool inside, but Jon was constantly sweating. He was not interested in what the peasants want today, Jon had a party to plan for his friends to celebrate a great harvest. Aline, his mage advisor sent by the Circle as a way to have Mages be more involved in politics kept insisting that he stop living a life of excess and start investing the profit he gained from a successful harvest into paving roads and upgrading merchant ships. Jon instead spent it on running on a jousting tournament. Jon loved tournaments, he enjoyed seeing the blood and carnage that came from it. He often gambled with others and would often lose, but Jon always had a good time. But at the behest of Aline, Jon has to sit on his huge rump and pay attention to the many complaints of peasants. "I didn't earn this title just to hear bitching and moaning." He thought bitterly. Besides what the farmer is saying is nothing new. For weeks, villages surrounding Gwaren has been razed with its inhabitants dead or missing. His soldiers and Knights are being killed in gruesome ways from decapitations to hangings. Every time Jon would send out a scouting party, they would end up with the same fate as his knights and soldiers. Furious and unwilling to be humiliated on his land, Jon sent out an offer to anyone who would get rid of the people raiding his lands will get a huge reward. He hasn't thought about it yet, but since these malcontents have to foil his plans. The reward will be substantial. On top of that, his right foot has begun to rot for some time. At first, Jon felt extremely sharp pain as though his foot was being penetrated by thousands of white hot needles. Then ulcers and multiple deformities began to affect it. Aline and the healers tried everything in their power to heal Jon's foot, but it just kept getting worse with skin beginning to peel off, the foot began giving off a repugnant smell and he began to lose two of his toes. Aline wrote to the Empress of Orlais, begging her to summon the greatest healer in Thedas: Lavinia de Fotein. Jon had to snort at the thought of a Ferelden spending a chunk of her life in Orlais? The Orlesian lifestyle probably made her soft and arrogant to the point where she'll probably just stick her nose up to the Ferelden "Dogs". She'll probably wear those damned masks Orlesians love to wear in their stupid grand game of who gets to kill the most people while still stuck up about it. Still, Lavinia is his best hope right now so she better not fail him. "My lord?" The farmer squeaked. The Teryn rubbed his enormous belly and scowled. "Yes, I'll do everything in my power to find your family." He said without any slight of empathy. "Now please get out! I have more important matters to attend to!" The farmer bowed and left in a hurry. Aline shook her head out of embarrassment, "my lord" she began "what you're doing is not helping the morale of the people." "I had enough of your babbling Aline!" roared Jon. "I have bigger things to handle right now! Where is Lavinia? She should be here by now!" "She'll be here soon enough my lord ," Aline said remaining calm despite the shocked looks of the lords and ladies standing in the room. "But-" "But nothing!" Jon spat "We have people destroying my lands and nothing is being done!!!" A servant came through the crowd and approached the Teryn. "My lord," he said. "There is a traveling knight who is interested the task you set up." Jon sighed shaking his head. "Bring him in," he said with annoyance in his voice. The door opened and the knight clumsily came towards the front, some nobles among the crowd snickered as he nearly tripped on the way. Jon frowned as he examined the knight: He was dressed Silverite armor with his face concealed by a Bascinet helmet. He wielded a simple yet shining Silverite Longsword along with a wooden shield with Iron formed on the sides. On the front, the shield had a smiling white tree on it. An unusual Knight to say the least, the armor clad traveler bent down on his right knee with his shield and sword laid next to him. “I am the Smiling Knight!" The Knight bellowed It was hard to tell whether or not the knight was a boy or a girl as the helmet muffled his voice. "When there is a time of extraordinary crisis, I am there. I have come to offer my assistance to your worthy cause and ask only that you recompense me as appropriate to my rank. In this do I trust to the generosity of his gracious lord Teyrn Elain.” Aline rolled her eyes, while the Teryn chuckled. "Let's hope you're good!" He said Aline raised an eyebrow and crowd was stunned. This Knight seems suspicious, she'll need to keep an eye on him. "And there's also a Qunari my lord." The servant who gave the news said. More gasps were heard, but the Teryn did not care. As long as there's people willing to help him. That's all that matters and he'll reward them handsomely if they succeed. "I suggest you wait you two!" Jon said, his multiple chins quivering as he spoke. "I have a judgment to make! Summon the accused!" The guards hauled a scrawny, middle aged looking bard in front of Jon. He looked like he was crying for hours with his blood red eyes and trembling lower lip. Jon looked as though he wanted to murder him. Last week, he received word from a local that the bard was singing a song that made Jon look inadequate. "Speak Bard what is your name?" The Teryn ask with venom in his voice. "Dylan, my lord." "You know why you are here," Jon said coldly as Aline tried to settle the situation. "Please my lord." "Quiet Aline." "I'm sorry my lord!" Roland sobbed getting on his knees. "Play the song. Now." Jon asked as the crowd became silent. One of the guards gave the bard his Lyre. Hands shaking he took and began playing: Roll, roll, roll, the Teyrn He's so fat and large Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily He's more like a barge Roll, roll, roll, the Teyrn When he was in bed Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily Now his wife is dead Roll, roll, roll the Teyrn He will lose his head Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily Now his wife is dead Murmurs came from the crowd as the Teryn remained silent, stroking his beard frowning. Aline closed her eyes in anticipation for what's going to inevitably happen. Much to her surprise, Jon smiled and clapped and soon the entire crowd with him. "Very funny song!" The Teryn said happily. "I assume people enjoyed it in that Tavern!" "I'm sorry my lord!" Roland trembled. "I'll never sing it again! I swear!" "Oh, you will never sing it again." The Teryn replied still smiling. "Guards throw this man in the dungeon. Roland, I hereby strip you of your home and the lands you possess." "But my wife and children my lord!" Roland cried as he struggled against the guards. "Looks like they'll be homeless," Jon said matter of factly. "You should've thought of that before spread slander. And I'll have more punishments for you in the morning!" "My lord please!" "My judgment has ended. Please, whoever is interested in defeating the ones who are encroaching step forward." "NOOOOOO! MY LORD PLEASE!" The Bard yelled as the guards smashed his lute. Roland struggled ineffectively against the guards gripped as wailed so loud that the room was echoing. Some people in the crowd smiled, while others turned heads away from the bard out of fear." Aline frowned at Jon. Disgusted by his attitude. "So let me take a good look at you." Teryn Jon said as two people stepped in front of him. One was that Smiling Knight person who rudely interrupted him and the other was a female Qunari. While Jon was interested as to why a Qunari was here, he didn't care as long as she got the job done. "I know your name," Jon said to the Smiling Knight looking annoyed. "But I want to know the name of the Qunari." After the Qunari gave her name. Jon began to speak: "Let's get to why you're here, for about 3 months. My finest soldiers and knights have been killed. I don't who did this, but my people tell me that it is the work of a mercenary company. You are to investigate and purge out the threat!" Aline added. "Your son is also among the missing my Lord." "Oh, him," The Teryn snorted. "Yes, my son is among the missing Ronald. He was investigating the matter but didn't come back. If you find him good, if not then it's fine." Aline stepped forward and began speaking. "We've had recent reports that a village: Ender's Croft was under attack I did send soldiers to investigate, but they have yet to report back." "If you succeed." The Teryn said. "I'll give 100 gold for each of you." "100 gold?!" Aline said shocked. "My lord, are you out of your mind?! We need that gold to buy more medicines for our healers!" "This is important!" Jon bellowed. "These soldiers you've sent are useless they'll end up dead! 100 gold for each end of story." Aline began massaging the temples of her fore head. "I suggest waiting for my reports." She said to The Smiling Knight and the Qunari. "Until then good luck and Maker watch over you." After the two left, a skinny man with his body covered with tattoos approached the Teryn. "Ah! So you must be the one who informed me of the Bard's wrongdoing!" Jon said clapping his hands. "Such a thing like that shouldn't be unawarded!" The man bowed. "Thank you, my lord!" He said grinning exposing his toothless and rotten mouth. "You'll have Bard's home and land!" The Teryn announced. "You've done me a service, good sir!" "So generous of you my lord!" The man bowed obviously giddy about the award. "And here is 20 gold!" Jon said as a man came with a pouch and gave it to the man. Aline sighed heavily and slowly shook her head. The skinny man left almost skipping while Jon asked the guards to help him off his throne. "I'm done for today." He said. "I leave the rest of the matters to you, Aline." |
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Post by smilesja on Aug 26, 2017 18:52:32 GMT
CyrusCyrus remained silent as Lavinia examined him, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Serah Cyrus of the Black Falcons. The reputation of your company is known, even here, far away in fair Orlais.” Lavinia said calmly. Cyrus bowed. "I am humbled to know that my company is well known here in Orlais." He said. "I've worked very hard to make the Black Falcons the best and the most reliable mercenary company in all of Thedas," “I do apologize for having kept you waiting," Lavinia said "and for having you served a full meal alone. You see, I was not actually aware of your arrival until this morning. The Empress’ letters were…somehow delayed.” "Delayed?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow. That explains why he had to wait for a little while, but the fact that a letter from the Empress hasn't reached Lavinia until today is suspicious. Ava sent the request to have Cyrus be her bodyguard weeks ago.
"I'll need to have Ava look into this."Cyrus thought. Turning to Lavinia Cyrus maintained professionalism. "It is fine my lady," he said. Lavinia took a seat on a golden chaise lounge. As soon as she sat, maid immediately gave Lavinia a cup of tea. Cyrus stood in front of the masked, graceful woman with his hands behind his back. “My private carriage will follow your company out of the Dales. I will bring with me two footmen and one of my ladies-in-waiting. I will trust the Empress that you will see us safely through the Frostbacks.” Lavinia said while sipping her tea. "Do not worry my lady," Cyrus said crisply. "Our company prides it self on quality. To prepare for the road, my people scouted out the roads and determined the safe points. On the halfway mark there will be an, called Dragon's Pit. Fear not my lady as the inn is known to be one of the top inns in Orlais and it has great food according to what I've heard. My people told me the roads should be safe, but I do urge some caution as you may never know when something unexpected happens. But overall you and your lady in waiting should have nothing to fear." “I suppose it will have to do that we draw out our meeting between the drawing room and the road.” Lavinia sighed appearing disappointed. Cyrus smiled, "My lady if you have any more questions regarding myself. Please do not hesitate to ask, we have plenty of time. In any case, I'll continue to wait for your preparations." Nimlowyn
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Post by gervaise21 on Aug 27, 2017 17:37:55 GMT
Ellas had seen enough. This situation was insane and the Teyrn beyond redemption. What an irony that many Templars would call me maleficar when you have sick fucks like that in the world. The man was irredeemable. He only wished he didn’t have to put his kids first as he would really have liked to given that man to Fen’Harel. Mind you Fen’Harel might well thank him. How many years would it take to chew through that man’s soul? Fen’Harel would be toothless by the end of it.
His one fear now was that the Teyrn, or one of his sycophants, would realise that the Bard had been recounting a children's nursery rhyme and then the origin of his song must lie with the children of the city. He might even confess as much and likely point the finger at the alienage. Ellas couldn't attack the Teyrn direct as, even if successful in killing him, there might still be an adverse backlash against the elves. First things, first. His kids always came first.
He returned to the kitchen and made an excuse of indisposition so that he could leave before his shift was over. Then as he crossed the city to the alienage he was on the look out for one of his orphans. One of the advantages of having so many children was that there was a good chance some of them would be wandering around the city. He took the view that so long as they were instructed not to talk to strangers and to scream like crazy if anyone tried to abduct them, being allowed to wander around in pairs or as a group of friends was good for the education. It encouraged a sense of independence and allowed them to see more than they would within the alienage walls. Plus people tended to notice children, particularly peasant ones, even less than they noticed elves, provided they didn’t do something obvious to draw attention to themselves, which was something else he had imparted his wisdom to them on.
Ordinarily the instruction to “not to talk to strangers” might have been an impediment but of course the children had already seen him with his dyed hair and skin that morning. Thus they already knew that if they saw him around in the city, they were on no account to approach or give any indication they had recognised him. This was part of the game. However, luckily, he had made one proviso to this; he was allowed to approach them. Thus it was that when he saw Elaria and Falos watching a juggler in the market place he was able to put the first part of his plan into motion.
Whilst they might question him talking to an elven adult, few people would notice him chatting with a child. People often used children to carry messages or run errands, principally because their services came so cheap. Of course some people wanted to talk to children for less savoury reasons; hence the warning against strangers. People didn’t know that though about these children, so there were many and varied reasons why he might be seen with them. He told them to pass the word to their friends: "The Pied Piper is taking us on a picnic". He also instructed them to pass on the message to all the other kids, not just his or their particular friends but everyone and tell them to meet in the alienage by the Venadahl tree.
Then he went back to the alienage and told Shirelle what he was planning. The picnic was a particularly convenient cover story not only because it would account for such large numbers heading for the forest but also explain the need to pack food and blankets if anyone observed them doing so. After washing off the dye and donning his Pied Piper outfit he went to the wagon store with the gold he had earned during the summer. The man was familier with him as he had arranged similar outings in the past.
“Have two wagons hitched and ready to go as soon as possible. I have the necessary coin here."
"Naturally," the man smiled. "Anything for the Pied Piper."
“Thank you."
As Ellas emerged from the store, the children were already starting to arrive. He turned to the wagon master. If you would be so kind as to see my children safe away. I just want to check that no one has been missed. If you need more wagons, they will be paid for."
The man nodded. He stayed long enough to see Shirelle hove into view and gave a wave and a smile and set off to check around the city for any strays. He explained to any parents he met the reason for the evacuation of the children and assured them he would keep them safe until such time as they could return. After that he headed at a swift run after the wagons.
It was plain sailing and soon the little grove where they had picnicked earlier that summer came into view. The number of wagons had grown to six and there was a veritable community there, humans as well as elves.
“We know you ,” said one of the elderly elves. “And when you say a thing is so bad you need to get your kids out, it has to be really bad.”
“I’m glad you are all here.” He raised his voice so all could hear. “Listen everyone, we need to get deeper into the forest where it will be easier to keep you safe. Now if anyone comes after us or attacks us in any way, leave it to me. Just keep going and get the children to safety. If I should be so unfortunate as to take a hit I will come to the wagons for a healing draught. Otherwise, as I say, no matter what you hear, just keep going. I may be taking extreme measures if that is the case and I wouldn’t want to scare the children. Okay, off you go. Keep it steady, don’t rush, pace yourselves, but don’t stop until sundown. For now aim for those twin peaks over there. If I need to adjust your course I’ll let you know.”
He watched the wagons as they started forward and moved back a little where he could see the landscape behind. As the wagons started to creak off in the distance he spied some figures moving swiftly in their direction. He sighed. It would seem the Teyrn had made the connection with the bard or at the very least objected to his picnic. They really were that stupid. He needed to do something that would harm the riders without hurting the horses or Oswyn would never forgive him.
Now some mages like to have an extensive repertoire of spells but this means on the whole they are the more limited spells. Quantity over quality. Ellas has always preferred to do the opposite. A few good spells that he knew how to do well and would come in handy should the need arise. Some were prohibited by his vow but if needs be he would stretch a point since these people were attempting to reach his children, so the “only for the sake of others was fulfilled”. However, the other part, “when nothing else will do” was a sticking point. He ran through his options mentally to see if he had in fact run out of ideas. He was looking for a large area of effect spell. It would seem there was one more thing he could try before he moved to the really nasty ones.
Weather Weaving was something he had performed before so he knew he could do it. There were certain rules like you couldn’t make it snow in summer. However, you could make it rain when you were somewhere that regularly experienced it like the forest. It was just that his rain storm would be so much heavier. This suited him because both man and horse tended to turn their faces away from wind driven rain. The heavy curtain provided by the rain would obscure much and certainly make it difficult to see from beyond the back of the horse itself. He smiled inwardly.
“They just wouldn’t see him coming.”
Then he stripped off his clothes and hid them under a bush; he really would have to learn the trick of turning clothes to fur and back again at some point. After which he transformed into the King of the Mountain.
The riders didn’t think it odd that the rain storm was building but it would be annoying as it would cover tracks. Nevertheless they continued on confident that the wagons were slow enough they would pick them up. Twenty riders. The rain got heavier and visibility poorer. There was a whinny and then the sound of hooves. Eighteen riders. Suddenly one horse bucked, kicking its legs out so high that it took another rider off the back of its neighbour as well as its own. Sixteen riders. A gust of wind, and two horses reared. Fourteen riders. The reason it was taking so long is that Ellas actually didn’t want to repeat himself. He had standards, he liked to attack his enemies with style when it was this easy. He ran past two horses pulling on their tails as he did so (now you’re being silly and you know what Jasce says about running behind skittish horses) Twelve riders. May be when it got down to single figures he would actually relent and just finish them off quickly. Leap right over the top and kick back with legs. Ten riders. Chase tail round and round and then go the leopard equivalent of boo. (Careful now you are getting whimsical) Eight riders. Rolling on back in front of two leading horses. Six riders. Running right through under their bellies. Four riders. Come on now, we’re nearly there just need two more different ones. You really should not be enjoying it this much, Ellas. Yes, but his friends would want an account and even Oswyn would find it funny, given his knowledge of horses. Dancing on hind legs, waving tail. That was close, he nearly lost all four by he gave the riders credit, they hung on. Two riders And finally a simple run up in front of horses and feline jowl. No riders. Then run round in ever decreasing circles around the milling band of horses, being extra careful to ensure that the easiest way to run was north. Eventually the horses got the hint. This was a very strange snow leopard and it didn’t want to eat them. However, it seemed to be indicating that they should run northwards. So they did.
Then Ellas changed back, re-donned his Pied Piper outfit and hurried to catch up with the wagons.
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Post by smilesja on Sept 8, 2017 3:41:07 GMT
assets.viewers-guide.hbo.com/larges1-ep1-people-profilepic-marillion-800x800.jpg  The Bard (NPC)Dylan slowly opened his blackened eyes and saw his torturer putting a long sharp knife over the fire, he felt the tight rope on his skin and he can hardly move. From the corner of his left eye, Dylan saw the night sky from the small barred window. Dylan began to weep silently as the torturer began to give out a crazed chuckle. To say It was an awful day would be an understatement, having his land that he worked so hard get being stripped from him wasn't bad enough. It was being at the mercy of a madman and his goons. As soon as Dylan was thrown in the dungeon, he endured savage beatings such as getting hit with thick wooden sticks by the torturer and four other men and getting punched all over his body by the covered grieves of the torturer. The beatings lasted what Dylan felt was for hours and the torturer laid out a list of his supposed wrongdoings: Treason, murder, theft and other crimes that Dylan forgot. Dylan denied those claims which turned into more brutal beatings until he was left broken, bloody mess. Not willing to endure any more pain, Dylan confessed to everything hoping with all his might, that the torture would stop. He was wrong. The torturer was whistling " Rise" a song that is a crowd favorite among the taverns Dylan performed in and the door opened revealing an armored man clutching the hilt of his Iron Longsword. "Oi Oswald, hurry up!" He said yawning. You're holding up the game!" "Be there in a second!" Oswald grinned instantly turning to Dylan. He gulped, this Oswald man had the face of a normal man but the heart of a Darkspawn. "Gotta be a song in that right?" Dylan thought in an attempt to cheer himself up. "On second thought, Alan!" Oswald gave his friend a devilish smirk. "Why don't you tell the boys, that I'll skip this game. I wanna go slow on this one!" "Fucks sake Oswald!" Alan sighed. "You promised not to do tortures on game night!" Oswald groaned "Can't I do a little torture?" he asked in an innocent tone his face looking like a kicked puppy. Alan threw up his arms. "Fine." He said impatiently. "But hurry up." Oswald stared at Dylan, the bard noted the hunger in his eyes as moved against him. "Please Ser Oswald," Dylan pleaded while tears ran down his face. "I've confessed my crimes!" "I know," Oswald replied his tone sounding demonic. "And now you'll face the Teryn's justice." He grabbed Dylan by the scruff of the neck while ignoring the cries of "no!" from Dylan. Alan leaned against the brick wall fighting to stay awake. "Well start with your tongue!" Oswald announced waving his knife. "You won't be able to spout out heresy anymore, then when I come back from the game. I'll cut off your fingers one by one!" "NOOOOO!!!!" Dylan yelled and all of a sudden the wooden door swung open. A Sliverite armored Knight appeared, with sword bathed in blood and wooden shield with a smiling tree at the ready. "You will not inflict any more harm on to him." The Knight bellowed. Alan sprung awake. "Son of a bitch!" He yelled charging at the knight while struggling to unsheathe his sword. It was a fruitless endeavor as the Knight slashed Alan through his neck. Blood began gushing out and Alan began choking on his own blood. Dylan had his mouth open his mind taking in the fight as inspiration. If he survives this, it's going to be one hell of a ballad. "YOU FUCKER!" Oswald roared slamming his knife on the ground and unsheathing his Iron Longsword. The Knight and Oswald circled each other for about 5 seconds and immediately clashed. Both of their swords colliding with one another creating a series of clangs that echoed throughout the dungeon. Oswald fought like a savage beast, pressing on the attack on the Knight who batted Oswald's sword attacks away with his wooden shield. Oswald found a brief opening and kicked the Knight in the armored chest. The Knight sprawled to the ground his sword knocked away beyond his reach and Oswald grabbed the edge of his sword and went for the kill. The Knight avoided the half swording attack took his shield and smashed Oswald in the back of the head with it. Oswald cursed as blood began oozing out from the wound. Taking advantage of this moment, the knight grabbed the fallen sword and began to pressure Oswald with a mixture sword and shield attacks. Dylan noted a look of dread on Oswald's face. The Knight bashed away Oswald's weapon and slashed him in the mouth. Oswald fell to the ground and Dylan's felt his heart do a somersault. That monster was dead. Dylan watched the Knight catch his breath for a little bit and turned to the bard. "I am the Smiling Knight and I've come to rescue you." The armor clad warrior said. |
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
Prime Posts: 1814
Prime Likes: 2820
Posts: 857 Likes: 2,795
inherit
193
0
Aug 17, 2017 22:19:12 GMT
2,795
Nimlowyn
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
857
August 2016
nimlowyn
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
nimlowyn
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Post by Nimlowyn on Sept 11, 2017 3:40:33 GMT
Cyrus smiled, "My lady if you have any more questions regarding myself. Please do not hesitate to ask, we have plenty of time. In any case, I'll continue to wait for your preparations."
Lavinia returned Cyrus' smile with a glint in her eyes, "Not to worry, serrah! My people are nothing if not expedient. My carriage is near complete and we must not delay. However, I first must settle my affairs."
"Remi", she called, to the young footman that was standing at attention at the door of the drawing room.
"Please bring Florence, Corrine and Faustine to me. Advise them to bring my staff."
He bowed and swiftly departed. Lavinia turned her gaze back to Cyrus.
"As for questions I have for you, serrah, those I certainly have, in good time. A few shortly, once my girls arrive and I have settled matters with them."
She took a polite sip of her tea, and Remi appeared with Lavinia's ladies-in-waiting. Lavinia handed her tea cup off to an attending maid and rose from the couch. Florence came holding a simple white staff, and offered it to Lavinia with a quiet reverence, the kind that was slightly ill at ease. The staff was of smooth and simple birch, with an orb of quartz at its tip. A subtle, almost imperceptible, chill filled the air. Florence took it in her right hand and held it, its tapered end firmly on the floor.
"Florence", Lavinia said, in a tone that sounded like she was off to a weekend holiday in the capital, "I leave general affairs under your care. Household staff will answer to you, and all administrative correspondence will fall to you. If you are indisposed, you will turn to Corrine to assist you."
"Corrine", she said, in a tone that sounded as if she were reading off a grocery list, "I leave you to handle social affairs. All correspondence related to social calls, salons, soirees, teas and games will fall to you. If you are indisposed, you will turn to Florence to assist you."
"If either of you are indisposed", she said, "These duties will fall to Madeline."
"Faustine", she said, and the young elf bowed her head. "You will accompany me to Ferelden." Faustine's face went pale, and she curtsied. "Yes, my lady."
Lavinia kissed each of her ladies on the cheek. Florence and Corrine smiled wistfully, promising loyalty to their duties and prayers for safe travels. Faustine remained, looking small and nervous. Lavinia looked to Cyrus and said, "Let us go to the carriages."
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The Smiling Knight
538
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Sept 23, 2023 5:56:51 GMT
21,413
smilesja
13,455
August 2016
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Post by smilesja on Sept 11, 2017 18:46:57 GMT
Cyrus
Lavinia returned Cyrus' smile with a glint in her eyes, "Not to worry, serrah! My people are nothing if not expedient. My carriage is near complete and we must not delay. However, I first must settle my affairs."
Cyrus gave Dame de Lumière a slight smile and a silent nod and Lavinia went and communicated with her servants. As she was doing so, Cryus expression turned grim. According to Lavinia, she just received the notice from the Empress this morning yet the Empress sent this request weeks ago. No way letters from the Empress would just arrive today. Letters from royalty would be sent by the fastest couriers. The only way a delay like this would happen if someone did not want Lavinia to go to Ferelden. "Well that is one possibility," Cyrus thought.
"As for questions I have for you, serrah, those I certainly have, in good time. A few shortly, once my girls arrive and I have settled matters with them." Lavinia said snapping Cyrus out of his trance.
"Of course my Lady I look forward to conversing with you." Cyrus replied giving her a quick smile. Lavinia's Ladies in Waiting arrived and Cyrus returned to his thoughts.
The mission has barely started and already there's a potential problem. Cyrus needed to take care of this before this ends hurting him and Lavinia. Returning from thoughts, Cyrus saw Lavinia talking to her ladies in waiting. Lavinia gave each of them a responsibility to do while she was gone, but said to the Elf that she was to accompany her to Ferelden. Cyrus eyebrows raised. The Elf, looked no more than a child far below the average age of a lady in waiting. The Elf: Faustine looked nervous and pale as though she's never been to any place outside Orlais.
"Your servant: Faustine looks very young my lady," Cyrus said to the mage. "Impressive that she managed to be your lady in waiting,"
He then turned to the young elf giving her a warm smile. "Do not worry young one," he said, "You'll be safe under my watch, I will not let anything happen to you or the Lady Lavinia."
Cyrus then noticed Lavinia's staff, a majestic yet simple staff with a quartz orb on top. "Your staff is impressive my lady. It's practical compared to the elaborate and clumsy designs I've seen in the past." He said.
Lavinia turned to Cyrus: "Let us go to the carriages." She said.
Cyrus nodded: "After you my lady." Cyrus stepped aside to allow her and Faustine to exit.
The trio then exited the Chateau. Outside, Lavinia's servants, and guards all waving goodbye to the mage as she headed towards her carriage. Cyrus saw Markett and a couple of his people on horseback with Markett holding on to Cyrus' Shire Horse. "Let's get on the road already!" Markett said enthusiastically. "So much shit I want to show you once we get to Ferelden!"
Cyrus looked around. "Where's Ava?" He asked.
"Heading to Amaranthine with the new recruits." Markett answered "Apparently she can't stand to be in Lavinia's presence.
"Markett," he said to the Ferelden. "It seems we have some issues with the mission."
Markett's eyes widened. "What is it, sir?"
"The Empress letter only reached Lavinia this morning, It appears someone has intentionally delayed them."
Markett shook his head. "Lavinia probably has rivals,"
Cyrus nodded "Agreed, which is why we need to take care of this problem. I need you to ride out to the express and write a letter to Ava and tell her to investigate this matter."
The Ferleden nodded "Will do, the roads should be safe. We have people stationed at the safe points. Just follow the map and you'll arrive at the inn in no time."
He handed Cyrus the map and Cyrus looked up at him. "Thank you, now go."
Markett spurred his horse in the opposite direction as Cyrus turned and smiled at Lavinia. "My lady, my people and I shall lead you safely to the Inn and to Gwaren. If you and your Lady in Waiting would please enter the carriage we can begin our journey."
Cyrus then opened the carriage door for Lavinia and Faustine to enter.
Nimlowyn
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
Prime Posts: 1814
Prime Likes: 2820
Posts: 857 Likes: 2,795
inherit
193
0
Aug 17, 2017 22:19:12 GMT
2,795
Nimlowyn
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
857
August 2016
nimlowyn
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
nimlowyn
1814
2820
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Post by Nimlowyn on Sept 18, 2017 2:20:04 GMT
"Your servant: Faustine looks very young my lady," Cyrus said to the mage. "Impressive that she managed to be your lady in waiting." Faustine curtsied. Lavinia, smiling gently, turned to Cyrus and said, “Faustine is not my servant, serrah. She is my assistant, yes, but she is also my companion. She is indeed impressive, and you will not find a lady more dutiful or devoted than she.” Turning toward Faustine she said, “She makes herself small at times, but she is young yet. She will grow in power, as we all do.” Cyrus then turned to the young elf giving her a warm smile. "Do not worry young one," he said, "You'll be safe under my watch, I will not let anything happen to you or the Lady Lavinia."Faustine curtsied again, and without lifting her head, said, “Andraste watches o’er us all.” Cyrus nodded: "After you my lady." Cyrus stepped aside to allow her and Faustine to exit.They walked down the main hall, Lavinia and Faustine side by side followed by Cyrus. Maids and footmen stood at attention as they passed, and Lavinia could see Remi just ahead at the front door, ready to escort them to the pavillion where their carriages were waiting. Lavinia was proud of her staff, even though they weren’t really hers, even though she could feel in her bones that she didn’t belong. She was eager to be out from under the gaze of generations of de Fonteins; their solemn, haughty, long dead eyes shot down on her from guilded portraits hung on either side of the hall. “My dear Faustine,” Lavinia said, as they stepped out into the pavilion in the light of day. The air smelled of blooming lilac and larks flew by against the last wisps of early morning fog. Sunlight glittered on Lavinia and Faustine’s simple silver masks, their silver slippers making gentle crunching sounds on the gravel. Sturdier leather gear had been packed for them, but both Lavinia and Faustine hoped not to need them. “This is our first occasion to travel together, and it is a long and arduous journey no less. What is your favorite verse for such a circumstance?” Faustine replied immediately, in a crisp and sure tone, “I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade, for there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker’s light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.” “Verse 1:14 Trials,” Lavinia said, and she was pleased. “Perhaps a tad serious for an errand, but the journey is long, through the Frostbacks and under…odd circumstances, so well done.” They walked in silence for a time. The carriages ahead drew nearer. “And what of popular poetry, my dove? It dawns on me I’ve never heard you recite any before. I know you enjoy it.” “When waked, we walked where willows wail…”“No, no”, Lavinia interjected with a mischievous smile and a motherly tone, “your own. How does it go, now? Then she, terrible and fair, something something, rode her chariot her arms brandishing sword and fire, something…” Faustine cheeks turned deep red. “My lady I would hardly call that popular poetry. Please, I asked you to forget it.” “Fie, my dove! It is highly irregular to be so shy of your talents! Really, I don't understand it.” As Lavinia looked at Faustine, she saw the crimson of her cheeks creep up the elven ears that rose above her black curls. Here was a very talented young lady who would make an excellent candidate for the Empress’ court…if she were not an elf. Lavinia sighed inwardly, and for the whisper of a second felt a swell of sadness, but she reminded herself that Faustine was enjoying a meteoric rise already, and just as quickly, she was content. They continued in silence, and Faustine’s ears and cheeks gradually returned to their normal shade. As they approached their red and gold guilded carriage, Cyrus side-stepped Remi and opened the door for them. Confused, Remi looked to Lavinia, who waved him off with a kind hand and a knowing smile. Alerion and Forest, dressed in their silver and blue livery, looked straight ahead from their perch on the carriage, grasping the reins.
“My lady, my people and I shall lead you safely to the Inn and to Gwaren. If you and your Lady in Waiting would please enter the carriage we can begin our journey."“He’s odd,” Lavinia thought. “What’s his game?” smilesja
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Sept 23, 2023 5:56:51 GMT
21,413
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13,455
August 2016
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Post by smilesja on Sept 18, 2017 6:35:37 GMT
Cyrus/https://dm6jf9380nk1h.cloudfront.net/article/a80262ef-4633-4971-a7b6-96e4a7548f9d.jpg)
A wave of embarrassment took over Cyrus. He looked at the footguard Remi then Faustine and then at Lavinia, he felt his cheeks redden a little bit. Apparently, he was doing Remi's job in opening the carriage for the ladies. "My deepest apologies my lady!" Cyrus said remaining calm and bowing low. "I'm usually the one who opens the carriages when I'm on escort missions! It's one of the first things I've learned as a mercenary: Treat the people you are working for with respect and care. As you can see, I have not been in Orlais in quite some time. I've forgotten some of the customs the nobles have here."
It was indeed one of the first things Cyrus learned under Nazeem: Make your client feel comfortable. Cyrus imparted that knowledge to his mercenary company to the point where he made social etiquette part of the training. "Forgive me for sidestepping you Remi." Cyrus said to the young guard.
As soon as Lavinia and Faustine entered the carriage, Cyrus stared at Faustine. "Open the gates.To my Golden City you must sojourn. At the foot of my throne, I shall anoint you, Most favored of my disciples, And I shall raise you up to godhood That all mortals shall know your glory."
Cyrus then smiled. "Forgive me ladies, but I could not help but overhear you two talking about the Chant of Light. That verse I said is one of my personal favorites especially when on the job. I think it sounds beautiful does it not?" He said with a twinkle in his eye before exiting the carriage and heading towards to his horse.
Cyrus didn't believe in The Maker but rather held the main Rivaini belief that God and the universe were the same: The Natural Order they called it. Cyrus didn't mind Chantry aside from the Exalted March they enacted on the Rivaini Circle years back, they don't have real power over Rivain besides the capital and even then they are not even that powerful. The Qunari and the Qun on the other hand.....
All of a sudden, painful memories began to flood Cyrus' mind. He closed his eyes and saw himself back in that dark damp dungeon years ago captured yet again by the Qunari: "Thedas has always been tested." Cyrus remembered himself muttering while doing pushups. "Conflict and war are the ways to which we evolve." Cyrus then began to hear the clanking of metal and the screams of both his people and the Qunari. Cold sweat began to form on the Rivani's forehead, his heart began to elevate and Cyrus felt a cold feeling in his stomach as though some put a bag of ice in there.
"Every battle makes us stronger!" He said with a determined look.
Cyrus shook his head and realized where he was and tried to focus. For the second time in a row, he's made a fool of himself. Cyrus was normally good at staving away memories like that espcially during a mission. He hoped this incompetence wasn't a bad omen.
"Let us be on our way," Cyrus said of his mercenary company as he spurred his horse and led the carriage to Ferelden all seven of his mercenary company and Lavinia's footsoldiers following him.
(OOC: Later)
(This plays while the group is traveling)
Everything went smoothly so far, the map Markett gave Cyrus led them down a safe and fast passage. The checkpoints they passed were guarded by Cyrus' people. They informed him that they were clear and they wished him and Lavinia luck. Along the road, Cyrus began to think about what Lavinia said about Faustine and how she'll grow in power. The lady has definitely put a lot of trust in the young elf. In a way, Faustine reminded Cyrus of himself when he was younger. Full of potential and now he became a powerful mercenary though it came at a great cost. Cyrus hoped that Faustine wouldn't go through those pitfalls as well.
After an exaushting walk, they finally arrived at the Dragon's Inn. It was a white and brown building sitting in the middle of the forest. As soon as they reached the entrance there was a sign which read: Welcome weary traveler to the Dragon's Inn!
Cyrus began rolling his head, trying to get rid of the crick in his neck. Outside of the entrance were two of Cryus' people an female elf and a human male holding the flag of the Black Falcons in anticipation of Cyrus' arrival. As soon as they spotted him they ran to Cyrus and saluted. Stonefaced Cyrus got off his horse and saluted them back, "Ellia, Jeff." he said wearily. "I trust you made the arrangements?"
"Of course Cyrus!" Ellia said, her sharp brown eyes gazing at Cyrus. "Lady Lavinia has a room secured for herself and any company she might bring with her! We also have dinner prepared for the lady of the highest quality!"
"Good job you two," Cyrus nodded in approval. "Kindly help the footsoldiers unpack Lady Lavinia's things,"
The two mercenaries bowed and began to help unpack the carriage. Cyrus headed to the carriage to speak to Lavinia and Faustine. "My lady," Cyrus bowed. "Welcome to Dragon's Inn. My people have rented you and Faustine a room ahead of time. By my request the Inn has also prepared a feast for you and the travelers It is my belief that my clients should feel important in my escort missions."
Cyrus then opened the carriage door. "Sorry, force of habit my lady," He said smiling. "Come, I'm sure you and Faunstine are famished."
(OOC: Dragon's Inn)
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
Prime Posts: 1814
Prime Likes: 2820
Posts: 857 Likes: 2,795
inherit
193
0
Aug 17, 2017 22:19:12 GMT
2,795
Nimlowyn
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
857
August 2016
nimlowyn
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
nimlowyn
1814
2820
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Post by Nimlowyn on Sept 28, 2017 17:22:39 GMT
A wave of embarrassment took over Cyrus. He looked at the footguard Remi then Faustine and then at Lavinia, he felt his cheeks redden a little bit. Apparently, he was doing Remi's job in opening the carriage for the ladies. "My deepest apologies my lady!" Cyrus said remaining calm and bowing low. "I'm usually the one who opens the carriages when I'm on escort missions! It's one of the first things I've learned as a mercenary: Treat the people you are working for with respect and care. As you can see, I have not been in Orlais in quite some time. I've forgotten some of the customs the nobles have here."Lavinia waved her hand in the air as Cyrus spoke, but she let him finish. “Serrah, do not trouble yourself. A courtesy is never misplaced when it is in good faith.” Turning to Remi she said, “Remi, thank you. Please report to Florence.” Lifting her robes with her hands just above the ankles, Lavinia stepped up into the carriage, followed by Faustine. As they were seated facing one another, with his gaze on Faustine, Cyrus recited, "Open the gates. To my Golden City you must sojourn. At the foot of my throne, I shall anoint you, Most favored of my disciples, And I shall raise you up to godhood That all mortals shall know your glory." Lavinia and Faustine smiled, Faustine exclaiming in her lady-like manner, “Ah, Silence 1!” “Nicely done,” Lavinia said. "Forgive me ladies, but I could not help but overhear you two talking about the Chant of Light. That verse I said is one of my personal favorites especially when on the job. I think it sounds beautiful does it not?" They nodded. “And appropriate,” Lavinia said. With that, Cyrus closed the carriage door. Lavinia and Faustine sat for a time in silence. Lavinia closed her eyes, but Faustine kept hers open, looking out the window. An unease gripped her, and she began to feel anxious, waiting for the carriage to begin moving. Finally, she heard Cyrus’ team shout, the sound of carriage wheels creaking and grinding on gravel, and then finally her own carriage jolt as Alerion and Forest struck their horses. Faustine’s breath caught in her throat, and Lavinia opened her eyes. “Faustine,” she said. “Yes mistress,” she said, tearing her eyes away from the window to look at Lavinia. They swayed as the carriage maintained a slow trot out the gates. “You’ve never traveled outside the Chateau, have you?” “No, mistress.” Lavinia remembered the first time she left Kinloch Hold and in her heart was a pulse of pity. “Remember the Chant,” she said. “But above all, remember yourself.” (OOC: Dragon’s Inn) It had been a week’s journey through The Frostbacks. They had come to the woods just outside the Ferelden Hinterlands. It had been bitterly cold and difficult, and as drivers, Alerion and Forest had been sure sighted and tough. Lavinia was circumspect in her praise but she would not forget to reward them. Lavinia and Faustine were napping when they were woken by their carriage door opening. "Sorry, force of habit my lady," Cyrus said smiling. "Come, I'm sure you and Faunstine are famished."smilesja
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The Smiling Knight
538
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Sept 23, 2023 5:56:51 GMT
21,413
smilesja
13,455
August 2016
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Post by smilesja on Sept 29, 2017 7:30:32 GMT
Cyrus(OOC: Inside Dragon's Inn.) Shivering from the cold, Cyrus let Lavinia and Faustine go first to the entrance. As Cyrus followed the first thing he smelled once inside the inn was the scent of Turkey and gravy. "The lady's meal is just about done." he thought. Dragon's Inn was fairly big with clean wooden tables, stone steps that lead to the rooms. To the right of Cyrus, was a big fireplace which warmed up the entire lobby and there were some people gathering around and dancing to an armored man's singing and playing his lute. The music the man produced sounded pleasing to the ear and for a brief moment, Cyrus was distracted by it. A huge, decorative sign was put in front of the smorgasbord which read: Welcome Lavinia! From the Black Falcons! Cyrus felt a little embarrassed but he stayed true to what Nazeem taught him and one of them was to always make your client feel comfortable in escort missions. A few of the residents dropped what they were doing and gawked at Lavinia and respectfully bowed. Cyrus was impressed to see how people were drawn towards the lady, she was radiating with charisma. Even Cyrus himself was drawn to her graceful presence the moment she stepped down the stairs in the Chateau. "Lady Lavinia!" The singer Cyrus observed shouted jumping in front of Lavinia and Faustine and bowed "It is an honor to finally meet you in person! And might I say you look absolutely beautiful In fact just staring at your beauty can refresh the eyes of a man like crystal pool of water!" Cyrus felt tempted to cut this man in half. The man laughed, "I forgot my manners, my lady! I am Richard Henry the 8th! Also known as the Bard Knight to the patrons. You may know my father: Richard Henry the 7th! He attended parties with your dear friend: Alfonse de Fotein. They were close like brothers!" Richard then turned to Faustine. "And I believe this is your friend, Lavinia? Well here's a flower for you! A token from me!" Richard bought out white Daisy and presented to Faustine. As Richard was doing so, Cyrus examined him. He looked like he was around Lavinia's age with light brown hair and a brown goatee. Richard was wearing steel armor with dark green cloth on the breastplate. There were pictures of two white flowers stitched onto the cloth possibly reference to his family symbol. On the man's hilt was a sword that had the same type of flower for a pommel with green and gold stripes around the hilt and in his hands was a brown lute. Annoyed, Cyrus stood in front of the ladies and attempted to push him away "Lady Lavinia is exhausted from her week-long journey." Cyrus said in an even tone "I suggest you step aside." Richard wouldn't budge. "Not yet I have prepared a poem for the lady!" and with a riff of his lute, Richard began singing: I knew this day would eventually come When I'd want to say these words to you And it's with these words I hold in my heart That I now feel I need to renew I've thought about what I want to say And was waiting for when the time was right To say exactly what's on my mind While you're sitting here with me tonight Cyrus sighed: "Whatever you do for a living Richard, I hope you don't quit it." Richard laughed "Well my friend, I am one of the few brave souls to actually to pour out my soul to the lady! When you travel the world you become inspired by the environment around you! A poem, a story is always hidden in the places where do you not expect. I talk to the birds and I talk to the trees!" "Do they talk back?" "What do you know?" Richard said frowning "Have you ever got a chance to appreciate poetry, stories, and songs for the artforms they are?" Cyrus grunted, "Of course but my taste in poetry is far different than yours. It's more..... Intemperate." "Oh for the Maker's sake!" A portly man came waddling down towards Richard, his face huffing with anger. "Richard you are actually sweet-talking to the Lady Lavinia?!" "She's a true inspiration Don," Richard said airily "From her beautiful blue and grey dress to the simple silver mask....." "Forgive me, my lady!" Don said hastily. "I am Don owner of this humble place! Welcome to the Dragon's Inn. Please do not mind Richard, he is popular with the people in this place. Especially with the women." "Don," Cyrus said. "I trust the meal is prepared." "Of course Cyrus," Don nodded. "And the room is ready for her and her friend as well." Turning to Lavinia, Don smiled. "I hope you'll enjoy your night stay here before setting off in the morning my lady. Come, your meal is ready." The Smorgasbord was full of various foods, from Venison to Pork Sausage and the main course: Turkey. A cup of green tea was set at the far end of the table reserved for Lavinia. Cyrus sat down next to the lady, with Richard sitting to the right of him. "My lady," Cyrus began. "My people are looking into the delay of your letters. My guess: Is that someone really does not want you to see Teryn Jon Elain." "The Teryn of Gwaren?" Richard asked frowning rubbing his beard. "Hmm, well I've heard a lot about the Teryn lately." "Elaborate," Cyrus said with curiousity in his voice. "Well," Richard began. "He was once an honorable man who helped lead the charge at Denerim. As a reward for his heroism, the King Alistair and Queen Anora named as the new Teryn of Gwaren in wake of Loghain's betrayal. There are rumors though that only the Queen chose him because Jon was friends with her father. Anyway as the years passed, Jon Elain became increasingly corrupt, he did what he wanted and took what he wanted. His lust and greed along with his belly increased, he gave his friends power in exchange for simple flattery and as a result, the most powerful and the most abusive Arl and Banns supported him." Richard began eating the Mashed Potatoes that were on his plate. "Jon, along with his friends exploited Gwaren for all its worth ever since. Recently there have been rumors of peasant risings against their respective lords. The Banns and Arls who were disgusted with the Teryn have raised their banners in rebellion. My family has sent me to investigate this matter. I am to ride to meet with Arl Millicent the supposed leader of the rebellion. Possibly to see if there's any compromise." Cyrus remained silent. This Teryn sounds like trouble, he'd hope he can do this job and they can get out. Everything about this mission is off. Cyrus asked Richard. "What do you know about the Teryn?" OOC: What Richard Henry the 8th looks like: His theme song  : Nimlowyn
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Nimlowyn
N3
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
Origin: nimlowyn
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Aug 17, 2017 22:19:12 GMT
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Nimlowyn
“Literature and art are never created for scholars but for a universal audience." - Camille Paglia
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August 2016
nimlowyn
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights, Mass Effect Andromeda
nimlowyn
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Post by Nimlowyn on Oct 12, 2017 3:18:35 GMT
Welcome Lavinia! From the Black Falcons! Lavinia had taken off her mask, deeming that it would not serve her outside of Orlais, though now she wished she hadn't. With her naked face she gazed up at the stitched banner that hung over the laden table, bearing her name without a title. Without. A. Title. It was so gauche it took her breath away. She clenched her teeth under her still lips. She looked around. The tavern was thick with pipe smoke, rowdy music and the smell of wet dog. "I'm....home", she thought, and she only half felt it, having left this world to join the tower at 6 years old. Faustine, also without her mask, stood beside Lavinia, hands folded in front, still as stone. Her eyes followed the elven servants without emotion. Suddenly a man in dark green livery jumped in front of them. He had a smiling face and eyes and a booming voice. He bowed low, and when rising he said, "Lady Lavinia! It is an honor to finally meet you in person! And might I say you look absolutely beautiful In fact just staring at your beauty can refresh the eyes of a man like crystal pool of water!"
"Lady Lavinia" was an unusually familiar form of address in Orlais. It was part of an idiosyncratic persona, along with the simple clothing and masks, that had served her so well in Court and the Game. Here, among the Ferelden rabble, it clanged in her ear like bells out of tune. Her eyes and face and voice were empty when she looked into Richard's eyes and said, "Yes, I was Lady Lavinia, most recently Comtessa de Fontein. That is what you may call me." The man laughed, "I forgot my manners, my lady! I am Richard Henry the 8th! Also known as the Bard Knight to the patrons. You may know my father: Richard Henry the 7th! He attended parties with your dear friend: Alfonse de Fotein. They were close like brothers!"
Lavinia nodded coldly.
Richard then turned to Faustine. "And I believe this is your friend, Lavinia? Well here's a flower for you! A token from me!"
Lavinia could hardly believe the audacity. It was positively perverse. "You may call me Comtessa de Fontein. And yes this is my companion, Mademoiselle Dupont." Faustine felt awkward curtseying in her heavy damask traveling robes, but she did so all the same. Annoyed, Cyrus stood in front of the ladies and attempted to push him away "Lady Lavinia is exhausted from her week-long journey." Cyrus said in an even tone "I suggest you step aside."
Richard wouldn't budge. "Not yet I have prepared a poem for the lady!" and with a riff of his lute, Richard began singing:
I knew this day would eventually come
When I'd want to say these words to you
And it's with these words I hold in my heart
That I now feel I need to renew
I've thought about what I want to say
And was waiting for when the time was right
To say exactly what's on my mind
While you're sitting here with me tonight
It took all the will that Lavinia had not to freeze the man's lute solid as he played. It would make for a marvelous episode at court, if not exactly the kind of flourish she was known for, but this was not an Orlesian court amenable to magic as "parlor tricks", but this was a Ferelden backwater. She was amazed she was even welcomed to begin with. She glanced at Faustine, who was staring awkwardly at the wooden planks of the floor. When Richard was done, he and Cyrus chatted, but Lavinia paid no mind. She looked at the people, their leather and brown linen clothes, their frothing mugs of ale thrown down laughing mouths, the dancing feet and the sound of laughter and playful shouting in the air. It was difficult to imagine that this was her blood. She stood straight and tall, her hand gripping her staff. A voice took her out of her reverie, and she chastised herself for her lack of focus. "Forgive me, my lady!" Don said hastily. "I am Don owner of this humble place! Welcome to the Dragon's Inn. Please do not mind Richard, he is popular with the people in this place. Especially with the women."At least this gentleman had the decency to address her as "my lady" and apologize for his guest. Though she wished he'd give her the option to freeze his lute. Don smiled. "I hope you'll enjoy your night stay here before setting off in the morning my lady. Come, your meal is ready."
Lavinia sat at the far end of the table, where a cup of green tea in a red ceramic cup was waiting for her. It must have been their finest dinnerware, and Lavinia felt a brief rush of sentimentality. She sat herself on the sturdy oak dining chair, Faustine sat beside her at her right hand.
"My lady," Cyrus began. "My people are looking into the delay of your letters. My guess: Is that someone really does not want you to see Teryn Jon Elain."Looking straight ahead, Lavinia nodded her head slightly and kept her features still. It was taking more effort than she realized to adjust to being in public unmasked. "Perhaps." She longed to write the Empress, but it was clear that their connection was comprised. While she was on the road, she'd have to rely on the Black Falcons more than she would like. She suppressed a frown. A serving girl in a plaid bodice dress curtsied and placed a plate of roast lamb and seared turnip in front of her. It seemed rustic and quaint and it pleased her. Lavinia was eating quietly when Richard said, "Jon, along with his friends exploited Gwaren for all its worth ever since. Recently there have been rumors of peasant risings against their respective lords. The Banns and Arls who were disgusted with the Teryn have raised their banners in rebellion. My family has sent me to investigate this matter. I am to ride to meet with Arl Millicent the supposed leader of the rebellion. Possibly to see if there's any compromise." Lavinia looked up in interest. Faustine kept her gaze on her meal. Cyrus asked. "What do you know about the Teryn?"
"Yes", Lavinia said, her voice adopting a lightness it hadn't since she'd arrived. "I would love to learn more about his lordship." smilesja |
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