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Post by Rhun Llewelyn on Feb 19, 2017 8:16:46 GMT
Simultaneous to the events at Aida. “A toast!” The bellowing roar of Gryph Llewelyn, Lord of the Brecon Marches sounded throughout the large banquet hall of Breconhall as a mighty cheer and clattering of glass, clay and metal tankards followed the proclamation. “A toast to my son. Karl Llewelyn, who has today brought us peace with his victory at the western skirmishes. Another year of fine crops and un-raided lands will shine upon us all.” Again a loud cheer moved through the crowd as the man, who resounded strength in his youth despite the years having got the better of him, stood and smiled widely at his first born son. “Never a finer example of the Marches spirit was on display then you my boy. Never.” It was these words that were filled with spite and poison. Not aimed at his first born, his pride and joy. No, they were aimed across the table towards his other son, the second and more wayward soul. For Rhun the words were nothing new, praise heaped upon his older brother was a past-time that all partook within, for there was no place for a wandering knight within his father’s court. The lineage would pass onto Karl, Karl’s already existent son and so forth. Rhun was no more than an obsolete contingency plan that was no longer required. Not worthy of praise. Yet it had been him that had marched on Therien, it had been him not Karl that had led the mounted charge against the Orc raids to the West. He had always been like this, leading the victory while his brother, Lord to be took the credit. All he could do was smile. He took instead to his cup. Ignoring the stares of others for the warm embrace of Eastern Kingdom wine, a caste of which had been a lucky treat offered by Gyn after the aid Rhun had offered after the Orc attack on Therien. After all, given sunrise he would be back on his horse and dispatched to some other far corner of Ardell where his father could forget he existed like his sister. For now there was little more then to take in the feast and the guests that had amassed, enjoying mead, roast and conversation. The life of a prince. Wonderful.
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Post by Stormwall on Feb 20, 2017 7:22:57 GMT
Breconhall could host a serious celebration in its way. It certainly put Ashdell to shame for variety of food, quality of wine, and general splendor. Ashdell's king held a symbolic role; he didn't command this kind of budget. The selection reminded Stormwall more of the spread that Mystmarch had laid out to impress him. He hadn't been hungry then, and the errand had demanded focus.
Today his errand required him to blend in, a curiosity but nothing more. He was just some centaur, a trade emissary from a small northern kingdom, eating oatmeal at a side table. Plenty of two-legs looked at centaurs as lesser beings, part animal. That was all to the good at times like these, when he could keep his ears open and read between the lines.
The events in Therien had been of extreme interest to Ashdell. Of those who'd risen to the occasion, only one was present so far as Stormwall could discern. That man was not the crown prince.
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Post by Alexandra Feanor on Feb 20, 2017 20:18:33 GMT
Alexandra looked at the man as he focused on the drink in front of him, her smile growing a tinge before leading her to take the seat beside him and careful to make sure her typical dress and cloak did not catch on anything. She had debated slipping away into her mind and letting the other take over, but considering the environment, it would be better if she were the one in control. Did that stop her from grabbing a glass and taking some of the drink for herself before even speaking to Rhun as she sat there?
Not exactly.
Her hand brought the cup to her mouth, drinking from it with a grin at those who would look her way. She was not secretive about her place here, nor that she had arrived earlier in the day, and nobles could be fun to watch when you acted strangely to them. She didn't care about that, as they could be just as cruel as her Handler had been, thought that made her grin towards the next one who looked at her even the slightest bit strangely.
"You know Prince of Breconhall. I don't quite understand your fascination with our drink. I like a drink from an island nation to the south, a unique and exciting people those." If he had not noticed her till then, he would in that moment as she smiled with her back still straight and the cup resting in her hand. She would not slouch or make a fool of herself, but she was still relaxed in her eyes and her speech, not worrying about him having to greet her with words of grandeur or anything else. She enjoyed when others groveled, as it put people who thought themselves better in their place, but this man had fought beside her and as far as the Broken had been concerned, those who had taught and raised her. He was a brother at this point.
She would still find it amusing if he were to forget himself and change how he sat now since she had announced herself. It was amusing to her, and she was no exception to that fact as she had many times grown stiff or relaxed depending on the person and situation. She remembered when she had met the supposed prince in Therien itself, sending the young man back to Gyn to protect him in case the man was truly who he was said to be. He still had much to learn, and she thought that she might be able to groom him into someone who could retake his old kingdom and form an entity that did not seek conquest of its old territory, but the reclamation of his ancestors home. If not, she would groom the boy to be one of the broken, the spark of magic still in that boy.
"So, what is the occasion if I might ask Prince of Breconhall. I had arrived a day back to find this exciting event being prepared. Your brother was quite welcoming as was the Lord of your home."
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Post by Rhun Llewelyn on Feb 21, 2017 9:55:48 GMT
“Have you tasted the wines we have from the Marches?” The appearance of Alexandra was a welcome one to the Second Prince of Breconhall, so a smile was offered towards her and a tilt of his goblet, the red liquid within swirling as he did. “That poor excuse for a drink tastes like horse piss and sour milk. Eastern wine is so much more comforting, plus it tastes like…well better then horse piss at the least.” Clearly even in the presence of the royalty of Gyn Rhun’s wording and posture was not about to change. He had seen war with Alex, it was as intimate as one could get without the presence of a bed-chamber in the eyes of a knight and for the Breconhall noble it placed her in an elite group that he could be himself around. An honour if she took it as one, considering they had known each other for all of several weeks since Therien. He took a quick swig of the wine and shifted his body to better take a look at the warrior-queen of Gyn, the Silver Lady as he had heard his men call her. He did have to try and not only take in her natural beauty, for he knew she was of elven-blood, beautiful in all aspects but fickle in others if he would listen to his father. Never trust an Elven maid, he would always say. For they are likely to steal your silver, gold and most importantly your heart for all eternity. A warning he was starting to understand. “If you state these southerners make a finer wine then I have drunken today then I guess a quest to find it must be initiated. On my honour.” He put his hand to his heart with a playful smile. “The occasion?” Rhun waved his hand around him. Taking in the people of the Marches and beyond, eyes settling on a Centaur that was towards the back of the room, noting his presence as odd, Breconhall last hosted one of the horse people nearly three decades ago, in a different time. “Oh this? The noble victories of my brother, the greatest thing to every walk the lands of Ardell.” A hint of sourness in his voice maybe, he hoped she didn’t catch it but clearly she would have, she was after all royalty and tones were a favourite thing to pick on among their ilk. “The Orc raids have been stopped for another year and all the world is good. A noble victory for the Crown-Prince of Breconhall. Naturally the prince takes the honour of the day.” He took another swig of wine, unaware of the form approaching behind them. “Ah, Queen Feanor.” Lord Gryph Llewelyn, father of Rhun and Karl and current ruler of all of the Marches placed a hand on the Silver Lady’s shoulder. “I see you have found my youngest, I do pray he is not filling your head with his tales. An active imagination this one.” He gave Rhun a stern look and then smiled towards the elf. “Please, if you may I would request an audience between yourself and my eldest, I would like to seek an alliance between our kingdoms, an alliance that would see us joined and capable of uniting the central kingdoms. If you would only follow me to my table.” He opened his arms to present the table at the head of the room, several maidens enjoying the company of Karl Llewelyn with his unblemished good looks and witty smile. “After all my youngest has duties he should be attending to rather then depleting our stock of Gyn grown wine.” Rhun went to object but thought better of it. This was still his father’s house. “Yes duties. Lady Feanor.” He took her hand and gave it the slightest of touches with his lips, he figured it was the polite thing to do. “Do enjoy the hospitality of my father, as much as it is worth.” Alexandra FeanorStormwall
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Post by Stormwall on Feb 22, 2017 1:26:14 GMT
Alexandra Feanor Rhun LlewelynA centaur couldn't exactly sneak or sidle up or otherwise keep a low profile. Not here, anyway, where he was a curiosity. Such were the inconveniences of living and working among two-legs. Nevertheless, as the younger prince broke away from his father and the silver-haired elf-queen of Gyn, Stormwall found his way to the young man's side. Purely by accident, of course: he'd been refilling his tankard when his course put him quite close to Rhun. What were the odds? "A toast to you, your Highness," he said quietly, sipping his beer. "And to every man who did his part at Therien." Subtext abounded. He raised an eyebrow and took a longer drink.
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Post by Solaiel on Feb 22, 2017 4:33:13 GMT
Lord Solaiel Cor Vondreque also sat at the table as the Lord of the Brecon Marches toasted a son that wasn't even in the battle of Therien. Sol played his part and raised his glass with the others for a moment, but he stayed silent as his mind was on other thoughts. Solaiel had been certain that Therien would burn. It saddened the man to think of having to rebuild his estates again. This warred with the part of him that delighted in the sight of a city in flames. His desire for conflict came at odds with his desires for luxury. Therien should have burned ... yet it still stood. It was now stronger than ever. The lesser races may have warred among themselves, but they were all alike in one way. Bring in a foe that they all disliked and they'd befriend each other quick to face that foe. The undead hordes of Vaundsberg ultimately ended up being a blessing for Therien. The orcs were a bonus distraction at the cost of some outlying villages. Neither foe could sustain a long campaign once they were rounded on by everyone else. The Steward even rallied his forces from the city to join those that would have likely been his enemy otherwise. The original reasons for the siege of Therien had been forgotten as nations rallied to march on the undead. They could still organize a hunt for the orc war bands before the politics of the rebels and loyalists of Therien took root once more. He was decorated handsomely for his actions at Breckentown. Few nobles had the grit to take a handful of guards to fight a foreign nation. Steward Hardon Aladir had elevated him to the inner circle and sought to use him to get closer to the Brecon Marches, and to Gyn. That was half of the reason he sat at the table. The other half was of the personal debt he owed to Alexandra and Rhun. Solaiel had stood with the two as orcs crashed down upon their position. There was more than a few times when their actions had likely saved his life ... or at least prevented him from having to use his trump card. He never once blew his cover and transformed into his true form. Not yet at least. His ears picked up the conversation Rhun had started with the queen of Gyn. Talk of wine placed his thoughts back on the present. The noble opened his mouth to agree with the knight about the intricacies of horse piss wine, but ultimately closed it as he noticed the approach of Gryph Llewelyn. It took greater effort to keep his mouth closed when a centaur accidentally bumped him slightly upon taking a place at the table. His lips thinned, but it would have been unwise to insult guests without knowing their role first. "Yes ... The Steward is grateful to those that stand with the blessed peacekeepers of the realm." There was a potential undertone there. The Steward was thankful to the men who stood with the elite and blessed Therienian peacekeepers. Therien was a waning city riding on the coat tails of the dead Mapheri Empire. Yet still they had an impressive army of elite veteran units, and they all thought quite highly of themselves. They were saved by those that joined the fight against Vaundsberg, but Therien would not have gone easily into the night had the event not folded out so fortuitously. They were still very much a major player. At least for the time being. Stormwall Rhun Llewelyn Alexandra Feanor
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Post by Alexandra Feanor on Feb 22, 2017 21:26:28 GMT
Alexandra's eyes watched the man's face as he explained the nature of the event and she had a bad feeling when his tone changed. It was his words that explained all she needed to know in the end. It seems that Rhun's brother was getting the credit for the actions of the younger. She continued to listen to him without betraying a sign of her catching onto his tone but in the end she had and her words might betray that fact. "Strange." She had begun, drinking from her cup once more before grimacing and setting the object down, the taste having soured in her mouth upon learning of the reason for this celebration. "I had not thought it was your brother who was fighting there. In fact her must fight like a specter, ever able to avoid the gaze of soldiers and strike at their hearts with an invisible blade that routs his foes. Otherwise, I must admit that your brother would have needed to hold a craven position during the battle, considering his absence from my sight." Her words had finished before the appearance of Gryph, the air remaining in a state of distaste until a hand touched her shoulder and her hand reflexively closed around a stone hidden in her cloak. She was not quick to strike, though, and for good reason as she heard the voice and knew it well enough. True to Rhun's words, the father praised his eldest and treated the younger like a toy soldier, someone who should be on patrol and not celebrating a rightful victory. She remembered what it was like to be a toy to the whim of others, twisted and to grant them prestige and fame while you were cast to the side. You would watch the one you serve grow in influence and soon enough your talents would become obsolete and you would be replaced with something easier to mold so that it creates a grand legacy for yourself. No mortal lives forever, but their legend can last for eons if one is careful or brave and foolish. She resisted the urge to correct the elder man, her hand continuing the grasp the stone but her voice relenting as it accepted his offer. "I thank you for the offer, though I must apologize. It us unlikely that you will convince me that reunification is in the best interest of the kingdoms now formed by the dismantling of the Empire. I would be glad to join you at your table though, and you have no worries about your son depleting our stock. If a hall of dwarves cant, I am sure your son won't." She thought for a moment and her hand reached for a different stone, grabbing it and her finger etching a small rune on its surface while she rose. With that same hand she secured herself against the table and turned, leaving the table and a stone on its surface for Rhun. It was a small momento with a message that could be drawn out by simple yearning for it to speak, the same method she had used on the letters in Therien, but this time to convey a spoken message over a written one. She wanted to inform the young man that she had enjoyed their conversation and was happy to continue it another time. Luckily though, as he reached out to take a hand, she would slip the stone instead into his hand with a bit of skill that matched someone who worked as a thief on the streets. It would be left in his hand without even the slightest hint of her even making notice of it and once his words were given she would not to him and move along with his father, already dreading the fabrications she was sure to hear. Only then would she notice Solaiel, who she would smile to and lower her eyes as a small sign of respect before continuing on with the lord.
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Post by Rhun Llewelyn on Feb 24, 2017 19:22:22 GMT
Lord Gryph Llewelyn Having taken Alexandra by the hand the ageing Lord of Breconhall led the elf across his dining hall with a grace reminiscent of the days of the Empire. Indeed Gryph himself had served on the elder council of Emperor’s for many years. Until the fall, where Breconhall became an independent nation and their soldiers marched against the Dynasty as well as for them over many conflicts. Such had been the Marches need during the catalyst of the fall, in the eyes of Gryph it had been essential to assure that the collapse of the nation didn’t end with pointless bloodshed of the people, while also maintaining the borders of his own lands. “Lord Ironbarch,” Gryph introduced the name of a sturdy looking and well bearded man who sat on a nearby table as they passed. “Current Lord of Ironwrath, the citadel settlement on the edges of our boundaries with Aida, to his left Lady Marianbournet.” Lady Marianbournet seemed the normal regal kind, at least as much as was allowed in the west. Her clothing was nowhere as extravagant as the dresses and formal attire of the central kingdoms, but she seemed to be holding herself well enough. They continued onwards towards the Lord’s table itself, where already Gryph was listing of those in attendance. Where it appeared many of the nobles and bannermen of house Llewelyn were currently enjoying the festivities. The main notables were Lord Hamish of Marien, the man who had dispatched the riders to Rhun’s request at Therien. Lady Rae of Marien, Lord Hamish’s wife and one of the many offspring from the Empire’s now dead bloodline. Lord Ironbarch’s son, Roderick, who was given his father’s seat at the table due to his recent victories against bandits near the Great Wood and finally of course was Gryph’s first born himself Karl Llewelyn, the chosen heir and child of the Llewelyn line. “My Lords and Ladies.” Gryph paused now he had reached the table, may I introduce the Queen of Gyn, Her majesty Alexandra Faenor.” Each took there time going through the processes of greeting royalty from other lands. Yet Gryph did not give them much more time after that. “If you would all allow me the table with her majesty, we have a great deal to talk about. Karl you stay.” They then waited in silence as each left the table with more bows and words. “Now that is taken care of.” Gryph sat at his chair, a sturdy wooden structure with various intricate carvings around it and took his cup that had been filled with his preference of ale over wine. “Shall we actually get to the point.” His tone had changed, almost brash in the presence of his son and lacking the other lords of his country. “Your kingdom is a powerful element to the East, in fact probably the most powerful in terms of military might and promise. It is a kingdom I very much wish to deal with outside of our already well established trading partnership.” A leg of roasted chicken had ended up in his hand, the grease from the bird sticking to his beard as he ripped at it with his teeth. “Naturally a protection deal between us would suffice, however I do have the further desire to see our lands united not merely through trade and agreement but…” He looked towards his son. “…through other more intimate means.” Karl saw it as his opportunity, moving closer into the table and waving his elegant smile. “What my father proposes Lady Feanor is a marriage of our families. An honour for myself as you can humbly understand. We would be able to keep our kingdoms as very much they are, yet with a combined rule the stability we can provide to not only our own lands but the rest of Ardell would be considerable.” Gryph laughed a curdling laugh. “My son has a better way with words as you can see. So what say you Queen, would you be willing to take my son as your crown prince?” ———————
Ser Rhun Llewelyn The stone had not gone un-noticed and was swiftly pulled into a closed fist as Rhun excused himself from his father’s theft of the Queen of Gyn. It had become the normality of life since Rhun’s return to Breconhall after the collapse of the Empire, after all it was not the tradition of the Llewelyn’s second son to remain as part of the family, he was to have been in the royal court, a knight of the Dynasty and the Emperor’s servant not his fathers. However those days were now dust, his lord father just never liked to admit it. His removal of conversation had brought him into the presence of two others he had been keen to converse with, the first being the centaur. Purely for the reason that he had never met a centaur in person before and found them as fascinating as any normal person would. The second, Lord Cor Vondreque. A man whom Rhun had been introduced to during the battle of Therien and the young knight seemingly impressed during the fighting. Not to say that Rhun himself had not found Solaiel’s own combat beneath his, in fact it was quite the opposite. He was in awe of the nobleman. Already talks had taken Breconhall’s finest negotiators into conversations with Steward Hardon Aladir who had been seeking a pathway into the Marches for a long time before the recent war. All thanks to Solaiel or so it would seem to those listening to the stories. “Aye a toast.” Rhun smiled at the Centaur and Solaiel in turn, as the quiet mention of the men at Therien was toasted. The tone was not missed, and was welcomed by the young knight. He responded in tow by taken a long sip of his own drink, freshly taken from the ale that had been offered. The wine he so desperately desired long gone as was his chance of conversation with the Lady Feanor. “I pray that fortune and good health be on both of you as much as it was on us that day, but Master Centaur; You must forgive me my ignorance, I don’t believe we have met prior?” He allowed the pause, hoping for an introduction with the Centaur proper. He was unaware of any noble houses or indeed Centaur scouts throughout the Marches, at least none who had passed their names through the courts and for that he felt deeply ashamed. Alexandra FeanorStormwallSolaiel
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Post by Stormwall on Feb 25, 2017 13:54:56 GMT
Solaiel Prince IneirinHe'd jostled a human a little, the kind of contact that annoyed two-legs, but the man didn't seem to take offense. Stormwall opted to continue the conversation rather than apologize. From his words and appearance, the human might be a Therienese courtier, one of the nobles and bureaucrats who spent their time at private estates or the Summer Palace, trying to resurrect the Mapheri Empire. Not the best of goals and not the worst. "I'm called Stormwall," he said, angling his body to include both the courtier and the prince implicitly. "Scout, guide, and occasional diplomat for King Adalric of Ashdell and the Sovereign Guilds. When the King learned of the events in Therien, he sent me to survey the damage and make contact with the Steward." His focus shifted to Solaiel. "I don't believe I had the chance to meet you at the Summer Palace, Lord...?"
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Post by Alexandra Feanor on Feb 27, 2017 22:29:55 GMT
Alexandra hated people who used others to gain power for themselves, especially those who did so in the most literal interpretations and Gryph was one of the least subtle she had seen in a long time who was attempting such. Her smile remained while she was introduced to the various nobles and ladies that had arrived for this celebration. She remained quiet and respectful, waiting for something to be sprung on her without her knowledge but at the end there was nothing that was brought up. Instead it was rather normal and she was grateful the other nobles had been sent away before this man attempted to gain power he did not deserve.
And try he did as the first words left him. They still held this air of respect and coutesu, hiding what he wanted behind a idea of reunification that she was hoenstly less than excited for. It is unlikely he was ignorant of her safeguarding the kid who claimed to be a Maphri decendent, and unlikely he would see that as anything more than her wanting the empire back together. This was certainly to be a reoccuring problem in the future that she would have to deal with but she had not expected it quite this soon.
Her hand twitched again, wanting to teach the noble to simply leave her be with these ideas but she held it still. She would not act so impulsively now that she was in the position that she had taken up and with that in mind she smiled and finally responded, choosing to speak only when Karl had finished and not so much as smiled anymore after Gryph started laughing.
"Before this day, I had not know your eldest existed. Had he shown up to Therien, had a spine to match that voice of his, I would consider this offer for but a second before denying it. Sadly that spine is just as nonexistant as my interest in such a proposal. Your Eldest is, how shall I say it, laughable. He claims success for a battle he did not participate in and seeks power he does not deserve much like yourself. I have no intention of seeing the empire reunite, as such an overarching power cannot tend to the concerns of the regions, and even if I had it in mind to see such happen, it would never be beside that of your eldest. Now if you might excuse me Lord Llewelyn, I was enjoying a conversation with your other, more deserving blood... assuming he even shares blood with yourself."
Alexandra smiled to the man and started to rise, turning and walking away without saying another word and letting the two men register what she said and react how they will. Her hand grabbing one of the stones in her cloak and clenching it tight, just incase these men were like those of her past and did not take a slight without action in return. She had no intention to cause a disturbance for this event, but she was not interested in the greed of men who did not know what blood tasted and felt like when spilled.
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Post by Rhun Llewelyn on Mar 3, 2017 1:01:25 GMT
Ser Rhun Llewelyn. “Well met Stormwall.” Rhun allowed the introduction with unusual cheer. After all the chances of a centaur were always lax, but one who was a diplomat to Ashdell and the Guilds, even if only occasionally was a once in a blue moon event. “Drink and eat to your hearts content, be it known that you are here on the respect of myself, which should allow you for any desire you may find.” He ran the small stone across his fingertips from within his closed fist, striking a look towards the head table where his father currently entertained Queen Feanor with no other audience but Rhun’s brother. It took no fool to hazard opinions on that conversation. “Allow King Adalric to know that I will lend what I can if rebuilding is necessary for Therien, it may not be much but my personal units are hardy folk who are as comfortable with a shovel as they are with a sword.” It was little aid, but enough to allow friendly terms between the two kingdoms. “My Lord.” A fully armoured knight, clad in the blue white of the household guard approached Rhun where they stood. “You might want to come and look at this.” There was a slight aura of seriousness from the guard, like a certain disbelief and as such it caught Rhun’s interest. “Please excuse me for the moment.” He mentioned to Stormwall and the Therienese home had continued their own conversation and allowed himself to be escorted away from the main hall by the knight. “I thought not to bother you but—“ The knight began to explain, Lambert his name if Rhun remembered correctly. A young lad, but a loyal soldier who carried no significant rank within the court, his father a once established Noble in the Maphri lineage, now a pauper and butcher. “Well the commander said it’s probably just nothing.” “What is nothing?” The two had exited the hall, lined with torches and armour it led from the Great Hall towards one of the higher balconies that looked out across the entire of Breconhall towards the West. “That My Lord.” He followed the extended finger towards the horizon slightly north, in line with the mountain range where Kaer Geât stood in defence of the Realm. He half expected to see the great torch alight atop of the mountain, a symbolisation of attack but instead found that his eyes were caught by the green and blue glow in the sky across the way. “Commander thinks it is just the elves. You know what Aida can be like.” Lambert muttered as he watched Rhun take in the unnatural light. It shimmered and changed continually, between blue, green and red like a boiling cauldron. “Said something about Solstice he did.” “No it’s too early for Elven solstice, the grasses haven’t greened yet.” Rhun’s fingers tingled with the chill of cooled stone as they found themselves clenching against the battlements of Breconhall. “This is something more, something…” Dread, fear and uncertainty seemed to flow over all of them. “Lambert, prepare my horse.” He turned and moved to head back into the hall proper and that is when he began to hear it. The screaming had begun. Lord Gryph Llewelyn The words of the Queen of Gyn struck hard towards the pride of the current Lord in the House, his face flushing the same colour as the very wine he had pulled from his cellars. His opinion would be known, he would make sure of that. “My eldest was busy protecting our people rather then off marching against a city that means naught to our cause. My eldest is the true heir to my kingdom, a kingdom that has been given the opportunity to be more then it ever was intended to be and I won’t let some unwanted second-born, who should have never been here.” A chubby finger had been extended towards Alexandra who had started to leave, his hearing paying no heed to the sudden pleas of his eldest son for calm. “It has been the tradition of this great house since the start of my line for any second born male to serve the Mephri Empire as a knight of the Errant and for-go any claim of land or title. Yet not for mine, no he came roaring back like a moth to the flame after the death of those whoresons! An unwanted burden against a tradition!” Gryph had stood now, his form bulky and heavy as he still gestured at the departing queen. “I will not sit idle as a ragtag boy and his elven whore queen demolishes my chance at ruling Ardell! I curse you Queen Feanor, you and all your future lines, I curse you with all the might of the gods, new, old and dark.” There would have been more, there should have been more but Gryph’s face was no longer that of choked fury, it was that of just plain choked. His eyes bulged and his teeth gritted, blood had began to pool in his eyelids and the veins in his neck had become painfully enlarged. “Father?” Karl had stood slowly and moved towards his father, “father are you—“ From Gryph’s arm a shadow had shot, moving as fast as lightning and with the appearance of mere smoke. A thin line emerged across Karl’s neck, slight at first but soon allowing thick tendrils of blood to slide from the wound. His body crumpled, his form dropping with enough force to allow the head, now cut clean from his body to roll down the table. The form of the Lord of Breconhall had in the meantime twisted and malformed, painful screams of the Lord carrying across the room as his muscles ripped and fused, much to the shocked eyes of onlookers. Others began to scream as several fell in fits of pain and convulsions, each touched by the shadow clouds emitting from Gryph’s fingertips. Something was afoot, something was coming. The Shadow Legion had heard the Lord’s plea, the Darkness would answer. The Shadow Legion had found Breconhall.
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Post by Alexandra Feanor on Mar 3, 2017 1:57:49 GMT
Alexandra sighed head turning to listen to the man and stopping. She was not so quick as to deny someone the respect that came with their position, even if those people were bred fools. It was good that Rhun had left, as these words were disgusting to her. She was used to hearing how nobles thought of others but even then it was usually those who were not blood, and now this man was calling his other son unwanted. Even if what he said was true, that was understandable but his words simply sealed her decision. She did pay Karl a quick glance, happy that he was at least attempting to calm his father. She would need to apologize and talk to the man in a much calmer place, but that was soon thrown from her mind. He started to go further into it and cursed her before she smiled back at him, speaking before the man would start choking. "I accept your curses Lord Gryph." It was then her smile ceased and she watched the man, his face contorting and she was just as shocked as the others. The man at first simply looked like he was poisoned and she stared at this before a shadow leapt out and cut through Karl's neck, something that brought her back to the present. Her hand reached for a blade but she remembered she had none, cursing this stupid dress and this setting for providing her no way of carrying a blade. She was not defenseless though, her hand closing around a stone and pulling it from her cloak, her body slowly stepping back as she held the stone tight in her hands, watching as others began to fall into pits and started to morph and change. Her body dropped at this point, shoving the now glowing stone into the ground and holding her hands there as the creatures began to take form and what guards were in the room tried to deal with them. Her hands pushed what she could gather through her and into the stone and the floor around it. She was a bit worried one of the creatures might appear where she can't see, or one of these things might rush towards her as she had no idea their intelligence or how they moved and attacked. It was clear they were strong, the action a moment ago made that clear enough. She really hoped that Solaiel or Rhun Llewelyn were within the area still, not sure if she had seen them when she was walking out of the hall, and not sure how far they had gotten.
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Post by Solaiel on Mar 3, 2017 4:14:29 GMT
"Lord Cor Vondreque," added the man as he finished Stormwall's sentence for him. Solaiel didn't appear older than his early 20's. Yet he carried himself with an air of arrogance and confidence that fit the finely cut black silk coat that he wore. He seemed the stereotypical noble at first, but then he began to act strange. "I am here on behalf of the wishes of the ..." The man's voice trailed off as his mouth stayed partly open and he stared at the far wall in the direction of Aida. He was no longer paying either the centaur or Rhun any mind. A sudden intrusion of a massive dark presence tugged upon the man's thoughts. He was oblivious to the second son of Breconhall being summoned away by a guard. Often a blood mage or necromancer would encroach upon the powers of Solaiel's dark birthright. Little bugs trying to harness the essence of darkness could sometimes offer amusement, but were ignored more often than not. This disturbance was unlike any other felt before. There was something so foreign there. That bothered him more than the sheer size of it. The Lord slowly stood without excusing himself and he started to wander toward a window at the far wall. Only now he could feel a part of the disturbance was here in this very room with him. Moments later the screams began. There was a second's pause as Solaiel decided to help. He'd have to reveal a trump card, but that dark foreign presence drove him to action. Who dared to try to enter his realm in such a way? The lord was at Alexandra's side right after she knelt down to place her hands on the floor. He could see she was charging up and preparing for some kind of magical attack though he knew not what. A possessed servant rose after taking on one of the spirits. He turned to see Alexandra and went for the easy kill of the woman that he took to be cowering in fear. Yet the evil spirit was pulled from the man and he fell to the ground just a few paces from her. The dark essence of the spirit was drawn into Solaiel's hand where that hazy black mist simply disappeared as if being consumed by the skin of his fingers and palm. The Therieniese lord then turned back to see Rhun re-entereing the hall. "Bring me your blade, Llewelyn. I must bless it if you are to survive this day." The possessed could be cut down, but evil itself was impervious to steel. His own ornate elvish sabre rested in its scabbard on his hip next to the queen of Gyn. He would not need it against this foe. Alexandra Feanor Rhun Llewelyn Stormwall
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Post by Talaiel on Mar 3, 2017 23:59:19 GMT
Well, that was awkward. Talaiel blinked rapidly in confusion as she stepped into the room, full of blood and shadow. She'd been travelling the fey-roads west only a few moments ago. Towering trees, old as the moon, as sheltered her beneath their boughs and grass that had never known mortal steps cushioned her while a warm-scented breeze wafted her hair around her head. She had played a wild tune on her panpipes, which she still held in her hands. But then, the air had blurred around her, rippling like a stream and the ringing of distant moon-bells echoed through the glade.
Then she was here, in a crowded, dirty hall besieged by demons apparently. Hefayne had diverted her to where she was needed. She could still hear the distant bells, although whether others could hear or not, she had no idea. She ducked back as one of the servant's toppled to the ground, cut down by one of the dark things, blood spattering across her face.
She drew her dagger, of fae silver, and it seemed to hum in her hand, pulsing with a life of its own. She stared at it in confusion. Were these things enemies of the Summer Court that she knew nothing about? It was possible, but she hardly had time to think it through.
"Hefayne!" She called over the din, "Hefayne and the Summer Court!" Her voice cut above the din as she moved towards the nearest shadows, mouthing a prayer as she approached. Her bow was better, but there was not enough room and too many innocents around. "Protect the innocent! Get them out! We must hold the beasts here!"
She stabbed forward with her dagger, its blade encased in a small glow, then darted back as the strands danced about, seeming to circle her. Part of her felt she should be afraid, but she wasn't. A boon to the paladin, to be immune from fear of the dark things that lurked in the shadows of the night. Talaiel ducked under an attack and rolled forward to where a small core of resistance was forming. A silver haired woman and two younger men who carried themselves with a remarkable confidence given the nature of the situation. She certainly didn't feel that way.
"Anyone know who what we battle and for what reason they have appeared?" She called out to the others, still waving her dagger about to fend of the shadow strands.
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Post by Rhun Llewelyn on Mar 5, 2017 10:32:45 GMT
Entering the great hall again brought the sharp contrast of the situation flinging into the Second-Prince’s reality. Chaos had began to spread across the hard stoned floors, blood already flowing into the straw lined rock with the death of innocent people as they scattered for the exits. Innocent people who were his people, in his house, something had to be done. Avoiding being hit by a fleeing maid Rhun gave the scene a quick look around, his military experience allowing the quick scan to take in important points.
At the head table a mass of flesh and bone was twitching and convulsing with shadows of darkness spreading from it like the tentacles of a river squid freshly caught on the piers of Marien. Others had also started to form shape across the hall, creatures of pure nightmare attacking any that they could reach with their unnatural arms of muscle. Nearer to the Knight was more familiar faces, Alex and the Therieniese man whom he had been speaking with alongside the Centaur known as Stormwall. It was a relief to see them alive at least, already so many had died, slaughtered in a hall of celebration. Behind him entered twelve men in full armour, members of the Errant-Knights and house guard to the Breconhall, weapons drawn, which made the unarmored lord remember a painful realisation.
His hand guided to his waist, clutching for the pommel of his sword that was not there. Starfang, the magical elven blade gifted to Rhun in his youth was sealed in his armoury several levels down towards the main keep and nowhere at hand. However a solution seemed to be close at hand as Solaiel, as normal as he appeared offered the means to enchant his blade, a blade that was quickly ripped from one of the displays on the walls. “Here, do your magic.” He moved fast to the others side. Noticing Alexandra’s odd position on the floor. “You are okay? You have no been hurt?” He knew she could handle herself, after all she had more then proven that on the fields of Therien. He just seemed to care about her more then he let on originally, assuring that no harm had befallen the ruler of Gyn.
The beast had started to form more human features, yet demonically inclined at best. His face a twisted incarnation of what he had once been with nearly no indication of his precious identity. Already several Breconhall guards had tried to suppress the beast and had found themselves wanting as their forms flew across the hall to impact heavily against pillars or walls in sprays of blood. For Rhun it was almost too much, the thought that this could happen in his very house, in the lands he desperately risked all to keep safe. “Where is my father?” He requested as the twelve knights came into rank beside him and the others. “My brother? Where are they?”
He had little time heed the sudden arrival of another to the group, an elf by appearance and yet Rhun could not recall seeing her at the feast prior. She seemed however to be friendly through her words, so he encouraged her to make formation towards him and the rest of the line currency trying to allow the rushed exit of those less combat oriented. Several lords of the Marches had taken position with them as well, yet with no true weapons other then that of the knights the situation seemed dire. Unless the ground shaking was a good thing? What exactly was Queen Feanor up to now?
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