|
|
Post by praiselasol on Mar 17, 2017 15:10:24 GMT
HARK! AND BE SILENT! Dear receiver, you and your kin have been graciously invited to Her Darknessess' grand revelry at Rustfall Castle in Silverclaw for the GREAT BLOOD MOON TORNEY, which is to be held in the sacred cycle of the Last Pale Moon. Knights-Landed and Errant are invited to participate in the Torney of Warmbloods. Commonfolk are invited to attend and revel in the Torney of Pale Bloods and witness the martial might of the Bund Knights. The dead and the living shall revel in the shared glow of the blood moon. During this time by the iron fist of the law of Her Darknessess' all foreigners and warmbloods shall be protected by Bund Watch from unlawful blood letting. Those Vampyres who conduct such shameful act during a time of sacred festivity shall be punished severely.
HARK! AND NOW BE AT HASTE. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLOOD MOON FESTIVAL PART 1
DANCE IN THE VAMPYRE BUNDRUSTFALL CASTLE, SILVERCLAW The castle walls of Rustfall were decorated in a brilliant red fabric. Grand and wide banners dangled from its ramparts baring the sigil of the Corpse Principality of The Ashen-Pale Moon Keep. A pale full moon with a black crown in front on top of a black and blue diamond checker background shield sat in the middle of a sea of blood red. It had been sometime since the Corpse Prince Mondwylin had confiscated Rustfall and its neighbouring villages from the old King. Resistance was heated at the beginning, but, it was mainly drawn from the nobles who had been deposed from their lands. The commonfolk, superstitious, returned to normality as the Corpse Prince did not exact bloody heresy on her populace as the old priests had forewarned. Instead they were liberated to tend to their lands and participate in greater market trading. Great merchants rose from the peasant ranks. But, the rule of the vampyres was ever present. A Blood Tax was enforced. Each first full moon of a cycle the commonfolk (whether rich or poor, powerful or weak) were drawn to the keep of Rustfall to pay a tax in a litre of blood. The commonfolk can have their lives, but, for Mondwylin their blood and their loyalty was hers - from now onto the end of days.
Just below the main gate a massive promenade of wooden stalls, taverns and lounging areas had been erected by the mass of masons and carpenters imported to Rustfall from the Moon Keep. Never had the sad and sorry lands of Silevrclaww been privy to the opulence of the imperial aesthetics of the Vampyre Bund. Around the wooden promenade a sea of tents and arisen. A great cohort of the knights of the realm had ventured to Rustfall. Some came for glory, coin and others came hearing tales that immortally beautiful vampyre countess, sometimes, would taken human men as their anointed champions to serve them in battle. Others came for more practical purposes, the Vampyre Bund hadn't open its doors for years since the fall of the old dynasty. Now was the time to discover the resurgence of the Vampyre Princes.
Inside the castle, in the main ward in front of the keep a large festival of streamers, stalls and greenery had been placed. Wandering the grounds surrounded by her black plate vampyre guard was the Corpse Prince herself Mondwylin von Aschfalblassen twenty-ninth head of Leichenhaus Aschfalblassen. Dressed in a pale doublet that fanned out at the waist into a large dress she perused the workmanship of the warmbloods. Wandering for bit, she then snapped for a servants to move her wooden chair to the middle of the ward where she took a seat. Looking up as he sat she spotted the wide and bright blood moon now slowly rising in the dusk of the heavens. She smiled. When was it last I had such fun. She chuckled.
Seated she watched the statues that lined the ward as well. Ghostly maidens draped from head to toe in long sheets carved in the frozen animation of an invisible wind. They represented the ancestors past who lie now in the void beyond. She nodded to them and then looked back to the festivities. Beckoning one of her vampyre retainers to her she leaned her head to speak to his pointed ear.
"You may bring in the guests from outside. Tonight shall be a night of revelry and dance." said Mondwylin. The retainer nodded and gestured to the gate keepers to pull the gates open. As he did teh creak of the Rustfall large oak doors began to recede and let in the large crowds of knights in full regalia dress, maidens, commonfolk, merchants and of course Vampyres.
Strolling up behind Mondwylin was her youngest bloodchild Elfriede who had come dressed in brilliant and bright silks. Elfriede made her presence felt by landing her hand on her mother's shoulder and leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Heil Dragonblut momma." said Elfriede warmly. It was rare for bloodchildren to be so informal with their creator, but Elfriede had an eternal kindness that even warmed Mondwylin's ancient cold heart. Mondwylin smiled and grapsed Elfriede's hand. Manipulating her hand she guided Elfriede to the front so that she could see her fully. Smiling the Corpse Prince returned the festive greeting, "Heil Dragonblut mein dear Elfriede." said Mondwlyin while still holding Elfriede's hand twirling her around.
"You look most beautiful my dear. Are you excited?"
"Yes. It has been sometime since we celebrated the Last Pale Moon this way momma. I tire of warfare."
"Hah, If you are tired of it at your young age, then I died from boredom centuries ago."
Elfriede laughed and Mondwylin chuckled silently. Elfriede then bowed and made her way down the ward to greet the incomers. A servant approached her guiding a white stead. Elfriede kicked her legs up onto the stirrups and rose up before cracking the reigns to send the stead in a light trot. Elfriede, although the gentlest of the bloodchildren of Mondwylin, was a capable warrior and herself would be participating in the Torney of Pale Bloods, along with her bloodbrothers. In large droves the guests arrived and as they did, some wandered to awe in the splender of the transformed Rustfall while others formed a procession that one by one paid homage to Mondwylin each reaching her bending the knee and kissing her dragon ring. Mondwlyin in return would nod and praise their loyalty. Music played and now the party and officially begun.
|
|
|
|
Post by Harrier Wren on Mar 19, 2017 22:52:30 GMT
praiselasolThat line which paid homage to the Corpse Prince contained one woman in the clothing of a Therienese minor noble. Alongside her signet ring, she wore a larger ring, ornate and foreign. Any true sorcerer might feel something of the dead about that second ring. Far to the south, in the gentle lake country of Vaundsburg, within an island stronghold, the necromancer called Harrier Wren had stolen books from a necromantic vampire. She'd done so out of sheer curiosity: though she'd bound her share of undead servants over the years, she'd never had Vaundsburg's knack for crafting armies. The vampire empress of Vaundsburg had fallen hard, courtesy of a multi-pronged assault from various nearby nations in response to a foolish invasion of Therien. Her undead armies hadn't saved her. Now that she was gone, however, the secret of those armies remained at least partially locked. Many of the books required some preexisting knowledge of the terms and symbols and history of vampires. Harrier Wren, disgraced scholar of the Foard of Elbion, had no such knowledge. She'd fought a vampire or two over the years, but never learned much about them other than one or two ways to kill them. Her presence here, then, had three purposes. The outermost layer, her public shell, involved making business inquiries with the mines of Silverclaw Valley. If uncovered and pressed, she was here to identify potential servants among the fighters. And most secretly of all, she'd come to learn whatever she could about vampires. The line progressed, and she bent to kills Mondlywin's ring.
|
|
|
|
Post by Myles Brantley on Mar 20, 2017 7:10:33 GMT
"Warmbloods?" asked young Henry Brantley, the squire of many questions.
"Didn't you hear what the last farmer we passed said? Folk in the keep be calling themselves vampyres and the rest of us warmbloods," replied yeoman Fletcher, leathery face grim as they approached yonder keep.
Henry's ruddy cheeks grew pale. "But they're not really vampyres, are they?"
"Vampyres?" Sir Myles Brantley shook his head. "I don't know. It is probably just a tale they spin to keep the peasants in line, but I've never ventured this far before. Fletcher?"
The yeoman pursed his lips and said nothing. A most unusual thing indeed.
"Myles you don't even have proper plate. How are you going to compete in the tourney?"
The knight shrugged as their horses trotted on, nearing the keep. "Try not to take a lance to the breast, I suppose. There's always the melee."
"Yes, but you're best with a lance," Henry insisted.
"We need the coin."
With that they all fell silent, remembering their last, pitiful little meal.
They passed the solemn gates and were greeted by a strange spectacle that did nothing to settle Myles' stomach.
He dismounted and nodded to Henry, "See the horses to the stable. Fletcher, find us somewhere to rest our heads."
The knight turned and ventured into the midst of the apparent revelry, wondering at the ghastly pale figures he saw flitting here and there. Through the crowd, he caught a glimpse of a woman of surpassing beauty, but her features were cold, like a statute carved from ice. She sat upon a chair surrounded by warriors in plate of sable. She must be the lady of the keep, thought Myles.
Almost unbidden, his feet found their way forward, as though drawn toward her presence by an unseen force. He stopped and glanced around once more. There was something strange at work here, beyond the pageantry. And what's more he felt sorely under dressed in his blue and black tabard yet dusty from the road. Perhaps he should have found an inn with a bath first. Ah, but that would have required coin.
Grimacing, the knight looked around for a way to remedy the deficiency. He soon found what he sought in a scribe at a stall with a banner overhead.
"Pardon me, I wish to enter the lists."
The scribe looked up, glanced him up and down, then said in a nasally tone, "Name?"
"Sir Myles of House Brantley."
"Sigil?"
"Argent swan on azure field."
"You are equipped?"
"Aye."
The scribe nodded and scribbled something down in a thick book. "Very well, you are entered, Sir Myles."
"Thank you."
|
|
|
|
Post by Pippa on Mar 20, 2017 14:37:54 GMT
Pippa came to a halt in the middle of a crossroad, the holes worn into the soft leather soles of her shoes were already starting to let in the evening chill. A shiver ran down the young woman’s spine, but was it due to the coming dusk or something else? For a moment she stood to watch the steady stream of people heading for Silverclaw. During her travels, she’d heard talk of a grand festival taking place there -- and she could not deny that she was intrigued.
“Well, Pip…” She spoke aloud, “This is it, isn’t it?”
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized coat and shoved along down the road towards the festival grounds. Of course, she’d heard tales about the vampyre folk, but she’d never seen one for herself. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to satisfy her curiosity once and for all. The orphan girl moved along with the crowd, and as she reached the entrance, the moving sea of people pulled her swiftly. Her brown eyes went wide with wonder, for it really was a sight to behold.
“This is very well festive.” She whispered to herself as she attempted to duck away from the crowd.
There were wooden stalls that lined the walk, and her gaze followed them down towards the impressive keep that stood against the darkened sky. The lively call of merchants was in the air, as was the aroma of freshly cooked food. It made Pippa’s stomach rumble in a most awful and painful way. She stumbled out of the path of a troupe of Knights and their parties, her chestnut eyes blinked once or twice. Such noble folk had come for the tourney, was there really a place for someone so… common?
However, there was a raucous crowd gathered around one of the nearby taverns. That was her sort of scene, not that she ever had the coin to partake in ale and pub foods. But perhaps the tender could use an extra hand or two. The possibility of a warm bed made her heart swell with hope. But she took a look up towards the rising blood moon, and worried that luck was not going to be in her favor.
She supposed that there was always the option to curl up in one of the alleyways.
|
|
|
|
Post by Alexandra Feanor on Mar 24, 2017 15:56:51 GMT
Alexandra had arrived with a personal retinue in tow, careful about being this far from her home and ensuring that she would be secure and safe here considering the distance. She had made sure to have her armor transported too, interested in partaking in this tournament of the Vampires, if only under the disguise that she was known to take when at home. Granted this fact was only known to her people but it was something she did quite often when the court became too restrictive. That is why she had a doppelganger in her place and she in chainmail and riding beside the carriage that carried her double. Hopefully, this would protect her from both assassination attempts by anyone looking to gain some form of reputation and give her the freedom she wanted this time. Her hair, unlike normal, was a dark ebony that was in no way kept tame. Her eyes, though retaining a shred of familiarity for any that would know her, were a great deal bluer in their shade, almost as if a light was pushing the color out and taking over the whites of her eyes. Her blade was the same one she always used, simple in its design and without any significant aura coming off of it from manipulation of the properties using magic. She had no intentions of cheating in this little tournament and unless she was placed against a being who was not of living origins, it would appear as a normal blade. For now she wore no armor but the chainmail resting under a cloak that draped down over her body and the side of the horse she rode on. She did not expect to be attacked or ambushed and while her helm was within reach it was not worn for the same reason. The route to this valley was supposed to be clear and safe and with the exception of one or two bands attempting to get a bit too close, it had been safe. Now that a number of nations had been formed and drawn their lines, the empire's vanishing was no longer a serious threat for the most part unless you wandered alone. It was that thought which she had focused on until the tournament's grounds came into sight and they started to reach the outskirts. It wasn't a long process of getting into area which had been set aside, and her people having to set up a small camp of their own was what would take the most time. Something that would giver her the opportunity to get around the camp and look on the others to see what she could find. She also wanted to check out the proper grounds for this tournament, curious to see the different rengs in which they people who had arrived would join in. At Gyn, tournaments like this were split between jousts, archery, swordplay, and mock combat, the last of which being gathered into small groups where first blood would eliminate an individual. It was unlikely these creatures would have set up their events in the same manner but it interested her none the less. She also wanted to find others who would occupy her mind until they began the tournament itself, wanting to expand her influence through the lower rungs, and not only the royalty of a region. She knew how important those without titles were, considering she had been one a few decades before, and she knew it would help her to keep an eye on these vampires if she could get a few people willing to talk about the happenings of the region.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fianoich on Mar 26, 2017 22:23:26 GMT
Mortal festivals amused her. But this one, it was different. It was only partly mortal and hosted by immortals. At least, that was what they claimed to be. She didn't quite believe it. All these immortals were once mortal and in their essence, they were still mortal. Natures changed, twisted, but still mortal. They desired to change and be more than they had before. But still, they had power, and this toruney was meant to bring the greatest champions together for the glory of the Vampyre Princes, or whatever they called themselves. Knights, mortal and immortal, and they were the ones that perhaps she could use. They desired renown, fame, and glory. She could give those to them in exchange for something of her own purposes. Some champion to carry her token into battle, to fight for her favor, and her own fame. Of course, she would assist them. It would not do to be embarrassed by a champion. Certainly not in the presence of those who dreamed to be immortal. The Bund was a mortal power in the North and it amused her to see what could happen. Their land was under the sway of the Winter-King, deep in the frozen wastes of the Northlands, locked beneath cold and ice. Her territory, where storms were woven from threads of ice. Her storms. So, it was time to prove the true power in the North. She needed a champion worthy to bear the title of Champion of the Lady of Winter to contest with these champions of the unliving. She strode into the crowd, brushing past the mortals who gazed at her with wide eyes. Some were fearful, some were entranced. She basked in the attention and paused to assess her next target. A crowd was gathering near a tavern, crowded and rowdy. There were drinks and singers. Not the greatest singers, but they were decent enough, as far as mortals went. She slipped through the crowd and into the tavern, taking a seat at the table, where she listened and watched them bustle about. She wove her fingers together into a pattern, a delicate little spell, that wove a shroud of glamour around her, to deflect attention away from herself. Nothing very strong, but noticeable to those with skill in sensing magic. She didn't want to attract attention, per se, but perhaps it could draw in a few of the more astute champions. Ones with the power to recognize and use some essence of magic, that could use her gifts to their best advantage in the tournament. praiselasol Harrier Wren Myles Brantley Alexandra Feanor
|
|
|
|
Post by Keltessia on Mar 30, 2017 3:44:18 GMT
"They must think themselves so much higher than the other lesser races," asked a young elvish woman aloud. She didn't seem to care to moderate her tone despite where she was. "Warmbloods you say, Masetta?" A large reptilian creature in crimson plate armor traveled beside the elvish woman. He nodded solemnly at her question. Behind them walked a human man and an elvish man. One was clad in regular gray plate, and the other in chainmail. All of them had the same emblem on their chestplate, but neither of the two men were nearly as ornately adorned as the eight foot tall reptilian creature in front of them. "Mother Keltessia, I would advise caution here. The vampyres are strong and a full moon rises. The king demanded that you not reveal yourself. It would not be wise for us to instigate, your worship," spoke the dragon-folk man in a deep harsh voice. "Peace Masetta! Be at peace my son. I will not scour this light forsaken place," spoke Keltessia with exasperation. The whole situation of traveling through vampyre held lands had her in a fury. The two guards and even Masetta all eyed her warily at her outburst. They seemed more concerned about her mood than the close proximity of vampyres and ghostly figures. The woman took the moment of silence from her guards as a chance to collect her thoughts. She pulled her shawl firmly around her shoulders as if to shield herself from the foulness of this place. Trail dust coated her divided skirts from their long journey on horseback. It had been a long journey. Would she find her father here? She had found signs of him at Vaundsberg. What reason could lead even a disgraced high born dragon to seek the company of dark creatures like these "vampyres"? It was maddening how little she knew of him. He certainly couldn't have hidden among vampyres. Their human forms could deceive the eye, but it didn't cover up their scent. The vampyres would be able to smell her. Never the less she felt confident in the laws that bound the vile creatures, and in the martial prowess of the dragon-folk warrior next to her. The failing light did not hamper her vision. Knights were signing up for the tourney at nearby booths. In the distance she could see a line forming for something. She even thought she had sensed a Fae moving toward the direction of a nearby tavern. "Leave me Masetta. I will walk the crowd and get information." Protests were raised almost instantly. Her hand rose and stopped the voices just as quickly. She walked forward without further contest as she continued to grip her shawl. The dragon had no weapons on her, but she knew the guards wouldn't actually let her out of eyesight. She also wasn't without defense if needed. praiselasol Harrier Wren Myles Brantley Alexandra Feanor Fianoich
|
|
|
|
Post by Pippa on Mar 30, 2017 19:45:08 GMT
Inside the first tavern she spotted, Pippa attempted to catch the tender’s attention with a waving hand. But her small palm was quickly lost in a sea of ravenous patrons that had come to quench their thirst and satisfy their hunger. Pushed to the side by the elbow of a rather large man, she rubbed her sore ribs and moved to the edge of the room. Pippa drew in a deep breath of the tavern air; it was scented with smoke, savory herbs, and the tempting aroma of ale. She watched with longing as men and women filled their stomachs, and her own ached painfully with hunger. But just being so close to a hot meal was almost satisfying enough. Almost…
Just then, she spotted a woman with a large tray of rolls balancing on her arm. Pippa’s mouth began to water something awful, and she followed behind the waitress.
“Pardon me,” She started meekly, “Would you need any extra help here? I’ve experience working in a tavern, I can serve… I can even do the washing, I don’t mind at all.”
It was true, Pip was no stranger to the dirty jobs that no one else seemed to want. But if it gave her a couple bites of food and a drink of mead, it was worth it.
“We haven’t the need.” The woman said sternly, “Off with you, beggar-girl. This place is for paying customers only.”
The woman began to bustle away, but two dinner rolls slipped from her tray and landed at Pippa’s feet. Her brown eyes went wide and she didn’t hesitate to scoop them off the floor and into her sleeve for safe keeping. On that note, Pippa shuffled her way back towards the exit. Inside, she was already struggling with the idea of eating the bread she’d saved from the ground. But she figured that it wasn’t stealing if it the rolls were doomed to be discarded anyway…
|
|
|
|
Post by Alexandra Feanor on Mar 31, 2017 1:24:36 GMT
It did not take long for her to find something of interest and it was by a tavern that she had come to watch as a bunch of patrons cheered and moved about, her own hand resting on her sword while she watched with a relaxed stance, smiling whenever two of the people gathered near the tavern had a bit too much to drink. Tournaments always inspired fools, and especially in the case of knights and warriors with grandiose opinions of themselves, something that made her laugh two such individuals began contests about their achievements. She kept her body hidden under the cloak and while there were a few who found her to be of interest, she was largely able to just watch and laugh. For a good while there was not much to see in terms of beings who interested her. There was the occasional knight who looked better off than the others, the mass majority of squires and pages, having left to enjoy their freedom for a short time and then there were those who lived in the area, moving about to continue their crafts and lives. She was itching for the tournament, her body still sore from the events in the west and hoping this would get her mind off it and it was for that reason she had brought so many with her both visible and hidden. Even now there were a few of her broken watching her and watching those in the area, hidden as people who had come as independent individuals or simply courtiers brought along to help set things up and keep everything in order around the camp belonging to the group from Gyn. This was done on the simple purpose of not wanting to be caught off guard again, especially with her kingdom now in heavy alert considering the attack on Breconhall. It is surprising how many people took what happened there as myth or delusions, and it was hard to even convince those in Gyn to go along with her orders concerning the heavy alert. Even now she had spoken a few times to people, speaking of news from the west with knights from that region, and even they talk as if the events slowly travelling across the continent was simply a myth created about the Vampires that had been at Therien. Her hand tightened on the pommel as she though about it and then her eyes were drawn towards a slight bit of noise coming from inside the tavern. It wasn't much, something about a begger and some people telling someone to watch what they were doing but she pushed off where she had been standing and walked towards the entrance, peering inside and at the girl who was making her way right towards Alexandra. Alexandra looked on at her and then past her to see what she was moving away from and try to get some sort of information concerning the situation, but in the end she merely stood there waiting for the woman to reach the door and then she would ask what all this was about. It wouldn't take long and as she stood there a different scent caught her attention, one coming from the tavern. It was magical, something to tell for sure and she tried not to show her notice of the scent but it caused her to stiffen a bit more under the cloak she wore, her hand subconsciously gripping the pommel a bit tighter for a few moments but ultimately releasing and relaxing. She didn't know what is was she was catching but she did not like it and she would be more than careful incase something happened here like in Breconhall. Pippa Fianoich (Assuming those nearby) Keltessia Myles Brantley praiselasol (Others who might be nearby)
|
|
|
|
Post by Keltessia on Mar 31, 2017 3:08:07 GMT
Tessia found herself frowning as she started to approach the tavern in search of the presence that had faded upon entering it. She could do with a drink, but she'd sooner go without than to have disgusting ale touch her tongue. She could only hope that the attendance of nobles at the festival, meant that there would be a passable mead or honeyed wine. That is what she found suited her mood at the moment. The disguised dragoness made her way to the entrance of the tavern, where she found another elvish woman standing partially in the way of it. That one gave off a wary scent. Something had caught the cloaked woman's attention to make her stand in the doorway as she peered in. "Child, do not stand in the threshold," spoke Keltessia softly to Alexandra Feanor as she moved around to walk past the fellow elf. She didn't get two steps further before the sight of Pippa made her stop in her tracks as well. It was hardly uncommon to see beggars of all ages. However, the dragon had additional sensory organs that made her sensitive to the emotions and feelings of others. Some fed upon fear, but such dark emotions actually hampered Keltessia. She could feel Pippas hunger as if she was beginning to experience it herself. "Be at ease my daughter," she added to the beggar woman before reaching down to take hold of the coin purse at her belt. She pulled a silver mark from her purse and offered it toward Pippa rather than dropping it at the girls feet. The coin glistened faintly in the fire light of nearby lanterns. On the visible side was minted the impression of a dragon's head. It had been made in her homeland. Such things were measured by weight though, and would spend well in any nation. "Go forth with my blessing, child. The light shine upon you." The elvish woman in fine silks, slightly marred by trail dust, appeared to be no older than Pippa herself. Yet there she was calling them children and daughters. She almost grimaced at the thought of it with embarrassment. Tessia continued to easily forget how far she was from home now. Such things might have been an affront to those who didn't know of her religious role. She would have to work on her caution. The king would not be happy that she hadn't taken Masetta's advice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pippa on Apr 1, 2017 3:26:06 GMT
Pippa felt her face growing warm and ruddy upon realizing that people were looking at her now. The young woman’s shoulders drew up towards her ears, almost like she was trying to shrink away into nothing. Her eyes flickered up towards the exit, where they quickly found the cloaked form of a woman stood framed in the doorway. Pippa stepped to the side, hoping to slip by the woman without making a scene. However, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of graceful elvish woman. She had a very noble air, so much that Pippa immediately bowed her head. She kept her brown eyes on the dusty tavern floor, but looked up in stunned stock when the lovely woman stopped before her. The calm sound of the elvish woman’s voice made Pippa lift her gaze from the ground. For a long moment, she merely stared at the shining silver coin that was held out in her direction. “You have my gratitude, my lady.” She stammered and let the coin fall into her open hand. Her fingers closed around the coin, and she held it close to her chest. Pippa could not even remember the last time she’d held such a coin. Surely, this would buy her a decent meal. But there was also a slight sadness at the thought of eating such a grand meal by her lonesome. “W-would either of you care to join me for a meal?” She asked Keltessia , Pippa's eyes also shifted to Alexandra Feanor , her gaze light and hopeful. “The more the merrier, isn’t that what they say?” Pippa smiled, hoping that her invitation would be accepted by both, if they didn’t mind breaking bread with someone like her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Harrier Wren on Apr 8, 2017 12:08:02 GMT
All things considered, coming to this frigid vampire den had probably been a mistake. She was starting to get a decent read on who was a vampire and who wasn't, courtesy of a variety of cues. Defiantly, she'd removed her scarf to let her carotid pulse for the world to see; that had probably been a mistake too. But vampires tended to demand defiance just by their presence, and it gave her some sense of paradoxical control over the situation.
In search of tangible relief, she finished paying her respects in the line and headed off to find some food. The scent of fresh bread pulled her to a dining house or tavern; this city was large enough to support those. Strange, subtle, powerful magic surrounded the building or the people inside. Through the open door, she caught a glimpse of Elven nobles, and that was enough to ward her off. High elven magicians, in her experience, tended not to think well of the magics they sensed around her and her possessions. Her stomach rumbled, though, and she didn't like the idea of inconveniencing herself just because someone might sneer. What would they dare beyond that, here in vampireland?
"'Scuse me," she mumbled, slipping through the press around the door: a couple of elves, a beggar. The scent of roasting meat snared her attention and drew her inside.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fianoich on Apr 9, 2017 5:25:23 GMT
Fianoich raised an eyebrow at an altercation by the door, before glancing away. Some beggar girl was trying to get herself thrown out, but some of the others caught her eye. An elf noble lady, wealthy and magical. Interesting too see one of them here, and then another elf woman. Something about her was strange, however. She couldn't put her finger on it, however. But then somebody else tried to walk in. Fianoich smiled and leaned forward. What would you know? Her favorite third level master of the Foard of Elbion had just entered. She beckoned to a serving girl who bustled over. Fianoich pointed out Harrier. "That is a friend of mine. Whatever she asks, give it to her, the best you have. The bill will be mine." A smirk played across her lips. "But do not tell her it was I that did such a thing." This would be another amusing game. But really, her goal here was different. Vampires had such a high view of themselves. Puffed up mortals dreaming for power that wasn't theirs. She was here to see if she couldn't bring them down a peg or two. And she was the Lady of Winter, so of course something would occur. But she needed the tools and the allies. If she was a proper judge of character, this magician might be the kind to work some sort of mischief. Harrier Wren Pippa Keltessia Alexandra Feanor
|
|
|
|
Post by Keltessia on Apr 16, 2017 6:33:26 GMT
There was a sudden overload to her senses. She could feel the stain of years of use of dark powers upon Harrier, as the woman tried to ease past her. Ironically it didn't dawn on Keltessia that she was now blocking the entry way just as she had commented on Alexandra for doing. The Necromancer didn't have the signature of the type of dark power that she sought. Sorcerers used a different plane of magic than her people, but she couldn't help but to want to watch the woman. Was there a congregation of Harrier's kind here? The vampires had no qualms over using the dark arts, but this woman was clearly not one of the cursed. Her attention was pulled back to the orphan as Pippa asked her to dine with her. That did make Keltessia raise her eyebrows some. She had clearly expected the girl to escape the moment she had excused her. Yet the girl's hunger still gnawed at Keltessia as if it were her own. That was a genuine feeling of pain that she knew she could easily fix. Another figure tried to squeeze past the disguised dragon, though it was with considerably more difficulty than the necromancer had. Tessia's hand reached upward and grasped her guardians shoulder, which stopped the dragon-folk man. He likely had been entering under the pretense of getting an ale, which would give him the opportunity to keep an eye on her. "Masetta, go see that a table is cleared for my friends and I. I will dine here, with them." The eight foot tall reptilian man eyed Alexendra and Pippa for a fraction of a moment before bowing his head genuinely. "Yes mother," came his meek reply before he moved into the tavern to find a man cleaning a freshly cleared table. That table was fairly in the center of the room. She could try to listen in on conversations around her. After all the presence of a powerful fae in that room had still nagged at her mind. "Come my friends," she added to Alexandra and Pippa. "I would hear of your journey here, if you would share the tale." Pippa Alexandra Feanor Fianoich Harrier Wren
|
|
