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Post by Stormwall on Dec 24, 2016 17:33:44 GMT
Leichenfürstentum von Aschfalblassmond
Leichenfurstenbund
Far Northern Ardell
The scouting party comprised four seasoned woodsmen. They hailed from Ashdell, a chilly northern kingdom in the forest, not too far from here. Leith and Marek were humans, Sturn and Whills were halflings. Apart from their heights, they looked pretty much identical: furs and mottled cloth, hunting bows and spears, dark beards, no visible regalia. By writ of the guilds that ruled Ashdell, their goal was to reconnoiter a mountainous region farther north. Scouts far afield had spotted the smoke of heavy furnaces, and glimpsed what might be distant cities. Such places might pose an existential threat to Ashdell, or create incredible opportunity.
Theirs was a deadly serious errand. Stormwall, their guide, found them deadly boring. They had no real sense of wonder or taste for exploration. Even now, looking across a snowy plain at an impressive sight, they had no real reactions. And they should have: who knew there might be a settled, temperate valley this far north, or castles and cities built along the spine of a mountain chain? Or the closest phenomenon: a keep and a city set in the caldera of an extinct shield volcano?
Something about the latter set Stormwall on edge, like staring into a wound still impaled by debris. Impressive, though. Very.
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Post by praiselasol on Dec 24, 2016 18:05:32 GMT
Beneath a pale moon, which at this height leered over all like a massive disc, a convoy of armoured knights, servants bearing banners on foot and a wagon pulled by a black steads made its way down a road carved into the slopping sides of the extinct shield volcano. Knights in black steel with helmets fashioned like the long snouts of long gone drakes road out in front and at the rear on armoured steads in two columns. Between them was two columns of men and women on foot. Some carried banners others merely followed. And at the center a large wooden carraige with parts gilded in gold.
Inside wearing a black doublet with slashed slits revealing red satin below and half covered by a black cloak tied at the neck with a broach is Mondwylin Aschfalblassen, the Corpse Prince of the Corpse Principality of the Ashen-Pale Moon, one of the oldest in the Vampire Bund - known by the vampires as the Leichenfürstenbund. But, to most, especially the other Corpse Princes, Modnwylin is simply known as the Moon Drake. Cold silver-blue eyes looking out the carriage windows while she adjusted her waist length silver hair. Then the carriage stopped. Mondwylin squeezed her brows together and opened the carriage door. A human hand-maiden approached.
"What is it Aria." Mondwylin questioned. Aria kept her head low, bowing to acknowledge her master's inquiry. "Mein Herr, we have come across a band of strangers."
"Strangers?" replied the Leichenfürsten. "Humans?"
"Halflings and a Centaur, Mein Herr." Aria said. Mondwylin cocked one of her silver brows. She then waved her hand, "Tell the Nachtritters to proceed. If they are travellers we shall inquire to their presence."
"Yes, Mein Herr." Aria bowed once more and moved to relay the message. The Nachtritters, half-vampires sworn to protect their Leichenfürsten strode forward. One rode even further and in a full gallop charged towards the group before pulling the reigns in an abrupt halt.
Raising the upper jaw of his drake helm his pale visage along with his sliver eyes glared down at the intruders.
"Halt! You are now in the realm of her undeadness Mein Leichenfürsten Mondwylin von Aschfalblassen. You are in the domain of the Corpse Prince of the Ashen-Pale Moon! Reveal yourselves!" He demanded.
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 24, 2016 18:54:47 GMT
Leith and Marek the humans, Sturn and Whills the halflings, quailed at the charge. The snowy plain offered little refuge, even for halflings accustomed to hiding behind the most minimal cover. Stormwall stood his ground, hand on the hilt of his sword. Together the horse and the rider matched him for bulk, though the heavy plate armor likely gave the oncoming man the edge. Stormwall raised his chin and waited, reevaluating the situation by instinct, moment-to moment. The knight came to an abrupt halt before him and blatted a challenge in a guttural accent. Stormwall didn't understand about half of that. The half he got was, in a word, unsettling.
"I'm Stormfall the Centaur, trail guide and courier." He was at eye level with the mounted human, and met his eyes squarely. "These are men of the Kingdom of Ashdell. We bring greetings to your mistress."
There'd been briefings and instructions. None had covered finding a kingdom ruled by the undead.
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Post by praiselasol on Dec 25, 2016 0:36:52 GMT
"Stormfall?" The nachtritter repeated. He then eyed the others with a mixture discontent and curiosity. "Wait here." He turned his stead and road off to the carriage at the end of the small procession. The group could probably see the knight speaking to Mondwyolin inside. Perhaps the glimpse of a pale hand waving the knight away.
Then another servant guiding a white stead beside the carriage. Then she would appear. Pale and beautiful, but, cold and terrifying. Mondwylin mounted the white stead kicking her black cloak behind her as she sat.
She then rode out bordered by three nachtritters towards the centaur. She halted right beside him, seeing her body was elevated by the stead so they could speak face to face. Mondwylin smiled to the centaur and then to the others.
"You are far from home warmblütigs." Mondwylin said calling the group the affectionate if not condescending term for warmbloods. "My Nachtritter tells me you bring me greetings. Well I shall hear them. What brings you to the shadowslands of the pale moon."
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 25, 2016 15:14:25 GMT
A centaur's bow was a forearm across the chest and a shallow bend at the small of the back, the join between manlike and horselike. Stormwall -- who'd announced himself as Stormfall; true names could have power -- offered one such bow to the noblewoman on the white horse. 'Her undeadness' was how she'd been announced, and he could well believe it. Something about her face or proportion or mannerisms tickled his sense of the uncanny, the familiar-but-wrong. The mounted knight had set him on edge a little as well, but Stormwall had attributed it to the armor, the charge, the bravado, the accent, and the unfamiliar words. He couldn't make those excuses for the chill that ran up his very long spine, tail to skull, when talking with Mondwylin.
"Milady, scouts reported seeing great castles in the mountains, and the smoke of fires and furnaces. The guilds of Ashdell sent us to make contact with your kingdom, learn about you, and make introductions as neighbours."
Neutral, friendly, nonspecific. He felt very much on the back feet, and that wasn't a sensation he enjoyed.
"I'm afraid we've brought no suitable gifts but friendship."
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Post by praiselasol on Dec 29, 2016 16:20:21 GMT
Mondwylin raised a black laced glove to cover her mouth as it let slip a short chuckle.
"No gifts are required stranger." she laughed. "Your scouts are correct in their perceptions. Yonder up this rounded slope was once a volcano. My keep and the city that surrounds it sits in its crater."
"You are in the realm of the Pale Moon, strangers." she continued with a cheeky smirk. "I am Mondwylin, Prince of this realm and I have been watching over it since before you were young and younger still was the Mapheri Dynasty."
She then stared at the strangers, each of them locking eyes with her cold silver. "Ashdell you say." she drew in a long breath. "I have not been there since before my first death. I was once a maiden of Pakellan...But, a story for some other time."
"You are welcome to establish relations here, Ser Stormwall." Mondwylin said. "I have but only one condition...obey the laws of mein Herrs, my lords. You will find that there are many among the living, within my walls. They will guide through the customs here."
"Now you are at a crossroads dear ser. You may venture forth or if you wish to continue these negotiations follow my escort to a shrine not too far from here. You see you came across me during a very important ceremony I must complete." Mondwylin said.
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Post by Stormwall on Dec 30, 2016 1:49:19 GMT
praiselasolStormwall glanced back at the other scouts -- good solid woodsmen, but justly wary of the supernatural. They'd seen their share of madness in the enchanted forest around Ashdell. He'd seen mad things too, magic of all kinds, but his temperament wasn't the sort to be spooked by sorcery. In a way, he was a sorcerous creature himself. "I think my companions will press on and see your cities for themselves, milady," he said with another bow. "As for me, with your consent I'll accompany you to your ceremony at the shrine you mentioned." Going alone was, admittedly, a serious risk, but he felt he had the measure of the vampiric knights' horses. On a straightaway, and in circumstances requiring nimbleness, he felt confident he could outrace these destriers should flight prove necessary. And this mysterious ceremony could provide a great deal of useful information on the culture and nature of these beings.
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