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Days of Chivalry - IC

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Shireling

A Servant of King and Country
DAYS OF CHIVALRY
THE LAND OF VELANIA, YEAR 1270


Velania Continent Map.jpg

VELANIA - YEAR 1270

THE KINGDOM OF IRONHOLD
-Archer Civilization-
The Kingdom of Ironhold is a proud, industrious nation of yeoman farmers and foresters. The capital Ironforge is home to the ruling Steelbrooke family that is well-regarded in their lands and has ruled for generations. Ironhold is the defensive neighbor of the kingdom of Halestaff to the east with whom they share the island of Albion and are close friends with the Kingdom of Svaelund in the frozen northlands of Scarva. Their armies are generally composed of large regiments of well-trained Yeomen Longbowmen supported by solid heavy-infantry.

THE KINGDOM OF HALESTAFF
-Cavalry Civilization-
The Kingdom of Halestaff is the more belligerent neighbor of Ironhold. After an invasion by the Kingdom of Clerimont in 642, the Kingdom of Halestaff was established as a duchy of the Kingdom of Clerimont. In the several hundred years following the invasion, Halestaff has gained independence although they still have deep cultural and familial ties with Clerimont. The ruling House Halestaff has a long enmity with House Steelbrooke from years of intense fighting. Halestaffen armies generally consist of lots of heavy horsemen and heavily-armored footknights supported by crossbowmen.

THE KINGDOM OF ESPADA
-Infantry Civilization-
An ancient kingdom, the current principality of Espada was formed out of the ashes of an uprising against the Al'Sharam Sultunate which once ruled most of southern Velania. After driving the Sultanate's troops into the sea, the Espadans quickly built up a nation rich in artistic achievement, architectural advancement, and cultural fusionism. Espadans are masters of quick swordplay, and as such their swashbuckling rodeleros are some of the toughest hand-to-hand infantry in Velania. The Espadans are ruled by the House Veluca from their gleaming capital in Toleno. Historic allies of the Kingdom of Clerimont, the Espadans are deep-seated enemies of the Al'Sharam Sultunate, especially for funding and supporting the Rebel Caliph del Sol.

THE KINGDOM OF CLERIMONT
-Cavalry Civilization-
Tales of chivalry and knight errantry abound in no land as widely as in Clerimont, a nation obsessed with decorum and the codes of war. While the Clerimontain are widely regarded as unfailingly honorable and noble, they are also brash and quick-tempered. Coming to the aid of their allies in Halestaff in the Albionic Wars of 1140, their knights were disastrously defeated at the Battle of Acrine Hills which left their homeland open to invasion. Ironhold's forces invaded Clerimont the following year, sacking the capital and razing several major settlements. While Clerimont has rebuilt, enmity between the two kingdoms has not faded. Clerimont is ruled by the noble House Mountaigne and is famed for its heavily-armored and well-trained chivalric knights, the best heavy cavalry in Velania.

OLDENREICH
-Infantry Civilization-
Founded by the mythic leader of men Theodur in times immemorial, the Oldenreich is Velania's oldest kingdom. Occupying the center of the map, the nation is at once the focal point of continental trade and a potential punching bag for all the surrounding kingdoms. Because of the wars that have ravaged their lands for centuries, Oldenreichers are tough, dependable, brave, and stalwart. Emperor Olef Vardenkof is the supreme ruler of the Oldenreich and at his command the Imperial Army's legions of elite halberds, greatswordsmen, pikes, and crossbows stand stalwart against all of Velania.

KINGDOM OF SOLABELLA
-Gunpowder Civilization-
Once an imperial protectorate of the Oldenreich, Solabella gained independence in a bloody rebellion in 1022. Known for their cunning in politics and the natural sciences, the Solabellans are Velania's masters of gunpowder technology. While House Ravena holds official executive power, many of the day-to-day governing decisions of the kingdom are handled by the Citizen Senate which functions as an assembly of lords drawn up from the common population. Solabella's armies are known for their mixed pike and handgunner formations and the devastating power of their volley guns.

AL'SHARAM SULTANATE
-Siege Civilization-
Technically invaders in Velania, the Al'Sharam are followers of the Desert Precepts, a religion that most of the Velanians deem to be a heretical offshoot of the Paragonic Communion, the dominant religion of the continent. The Al'Sharam are often known to be shrewd and practical when compared to the other nations and rely more heavily on spies and subterfuge. Their once mighty empire was beaten back by a series of crusades begun in 1044 and ending in 1240 that severely weakened their grip on the continent. Under Sultan Hakim Rouan'si, the Sultanate is marshalling its strength and may be preparing to invade Velania once more. The Sultanate's armies are generally weaker than what Velanian factions can muster, save their camel-riding mamelukes which are excellent against heavy cavalry and their gunpowder artillery which is unparalleled.

TSARDOM OF KOROV
-Skirmisher Civilization-
With lands conisting of vast tracks of steppes and frozen taiga, Korov is at once the largest and most mysterious civilization of Velania. Invading armies in Korov have a track record of freezing to death, and that is when they are not being constantly harassed by Korovian cossacks. Korov's armies excell in fast-moving and hard-hitting cavalry manuevers and hit-and-run tactics. Horse archers and lancers make up the core of their fleet armies, which are supplemented by large forces of light and heavy infantry. In the strange north, Tsar Borovin rules with an iron fist and the slavish Korovians bend to his will. Particular enmity exists between Korov and the Al'sharam Sultanate.

THE KINGDOM OF SVAELUND
-Infantry Civilization-
Fiery men and women from the frozen northlands of Scarva, Svaelunders are masters of the axe and shield. While Espadans may match them in finesse in melee, the Svaelunders excel in brute-force applications of close-combat. Breaking and holding shield walls are the specialty of the Svaelunders. Aside from their skill in combat, they are also traders and navigators who have travelled across the Old World and have traded with distant lands in the far east. In current times, the Althing, the governing council of the Svaelund tribes, has appointed the militaristic Eric Stoutshield as High King who has designs against their historical rivals in the east (Korov) and the west (Halestaff).

THE REBEL CALIPH DEL SOL
-Archer Civilization-
Breaking off from Espada in 1256, Caliph del Sol is made up of former Al'sharam discontented with life under Espadan rule. They have thrown off the shackles of Toleno, led by the charismatic Caliph Ali Aburki. The Solez are famous for their Solez Archers, impressive marksmen who honed their craft hunting sand lizards on the desert dunes of southern Espada. Currently, the Espadans and Caliph del Sol have concluded peace talks, but war seems to loom on the horizon as King Rodrigo Veluca seems ready to reabsorb the upstart colony.

THE FREE CITY OF NUEHEIM
-Infantry Civilization-
Breaking off from the Oldenreich in 1089, Nueheim has been for two centuries a hub of trading and finance in central Velania. The Nueheimic have a reputation as being discerning businessmen and entrepeneurs, and this extends into their military affairs. Nueheimic pikemen and pistoliers are well-trained, well-equipped mercenaries that fight for the highest bidders. Some of the best mercenary captains hail from Nueheim, and Mayor Voltstadt does not discourage the practice.

Current Approved Members:
Erreul Erreul Crumbli Crumbli Emmi Emmi General Deth Glitch General Deth Glitch Agent Agent
 
CANTO I: CONTINENT OF VELANIA, EARLY 1270

Rumors Spread That...
In the city of Ironforge, a great artist has emerged amongst the Ironforged people in that province. The man, a playwright by the name of Augustus Avon, has emerged from relative obscurity in the village of Halford-Upon-Eddleton near the capital city by dazzling King Alfred Steelbrooke with his festive comedy All's Well that Ends Well. The rising star has been given royal financing for his acting troop, the King's Men, and there is no telling where his genius will lead from here.

A severe blizzard blankets the Svaelunder town of Olza in several feet of snow, trapping townsmen in their homes and making commerce and trade impossible. So far, High King Stoutshield's men have been unable to render aid to the town, but in past snowstorms the townsfolk have received help from the dwarves of the Scarva Mountains. All of Svaelund wonders if the mysterious mountain-dwelling spirits will come to their aid again.

In the Sultunate city of Duburqa, the religious authorities led by Imam Bin-Salaam claim to have found a coven of witches. Under the auspices of Sultan Roun'si's blessing, the road from Duburqa leading to Al-Merik was littered with the burned corpses of suspected witches and warlocks for miles. While many of the accused witches were, in fact, pagan magic users, there has been some concern that many of the accused were Korovian nationals which has inflamed religious and political tensions between the two nations.

The Boyar of Ruselev has reported a budget surplus due to an over-estimation of the city's tax burden. Rather than return the extra coin, he has elected to invest in hiring a larger garrison to defend Ruselev Keep and the city proper.

The city of Ofstein in the Oldenreich is experiencing a large number of young men wanting to join the ranks of the Imperial Army. Emperor Vardenkof has claimed that he is pleased with the decision of the young men of the province to fight for his honor and glory and will welcome them into the ranks of the Imperial infantry.

THE COURT OF KING MONTAIGNE, CLERMOT CASTLE
It was a rare and auspicious occasion that the lords and knights of the Kingdom of Clerimont gathered for a feast and a tournament, but in his old age King Montaigne has become more and more concerned with his sacral and idealistic role as king than with the affairs of temporal governance. An adoring throng of the city's guild masters, along with clergy and the nobility themselves, were gathered before the King in his great hall for a feast. The table by itself was a hundred feet long, hewn from one large and ancient tree in the days of Clerimont's greatness. It was spread with all manner of roasted animals and meats: ducks, boars, deer, chickens, goats, and mutton. Besides that, large loaves of spiced bread, jars of whipped butter, slabs of fish, corn on the cob, baked potatoes, rye cakes, vegetables boiled and steamed or raw, and large goblets of well-aged wine.

A feast this great and worthy of praise had not been had in years, and the townsfolk and noblemen ate with little reserve and great thanks to the liberality of their host. The fairest women of the court were seated as well, eating and drinking merrily and painted tastefully. The kitchen staff and waiters buzzed about, making sure that the wine never ran dry and the plates were never empty of hot, succulent meat.

Among the great assembly there were Sir Evorlain and Sir Olphas, Sir Peter de Abolaide and Sir Hans von Edelmaan. Nobles from all over Espada, Clerimont, and Oldenreich were gathered at the feast honoring their esteemed cousin and neighboring king. With them as well was Prince Eduardo who had travelled far to represent his father, the peerless Rodrigo Veluca del Toleno. He and his sidekick, the foolish but loveable rogue and knight-errant Sir Quejada de Las Colinas, were seated across from the well-known leader of men, despite the ignobility of his birth, Harold Solene. By fortune, they had found one another and had struck up a lively conversation on their various exploits. They talked of horses, of war, and the conversation finally turned to the jousting tournament to be held the next day.

"I must confess, Signoir Solene, that I have never participated in this jousting sport which is so common in the east. In my country, as you know, men test their mettle by the blade. Perhaps you might say a bit about the practice and whether I might find enjoyment in the sport," the prince said in a hospitable tone, glancing over to Sir Quejada to see in munching on a leg of lamb that had been stripped to the bone. "Looking to suck the marrow out?" He asked in with a chuckle. "The marrow is the finest part, my prince," Quejada jeered back, cracking the bone with his teeth of questionable strength and indeed slurping the marrow. The Prince laughed and turned back to Harold to hear the answer.

Crumbli Crumbli

NEAR THE CAPE OF SWORDS, SOUTHERN SOLABELLA
While naval patrols were definitely more intense in the Middle Sea, the bounty to be gained was similarly great. About half past midnight two days ago, the Truth of the Sea had begun stalking a Sultanate cargo galley by the name of Ill-bin Saman that had become separated from its escort, a war galley that was large enough to swallow the pirate ship for breakfast and still be hungry. The cargo ship, separated from its protection, rowed vigorously for the port of Ravebezzo, but was denied entry by Solabellan ships. They regained the trail last night, after finding what remained of the Sultanate war galley broken on the rocks near the Cape of Swords. The pirates closed on their quarry, and soon begun boarding the ship. The Sultanate sailors, apparently carrying some important cargo, rushed at the pirates with their scimitars shouting curses. The melee was long and fierce, but they finally had vanquished the crew to the last man after sustaining a few casualties themselves.

In the hold, the value of the cargo they were guarding became apparent. Three large chests were filled to the brim with Sarazin gold, no doubt to aid in the war effort for the Rebel Caliph in southern Espada. Along with this loot, they also found what appeared to be an ancient tome written in a language that could not be identified as either Al'Sharam or any Velanian tongue. The book exuded an evil energy, and many of the crew were afraid to handle it. A few days after their victory, a Halestaffen boatswain named Edgar Olman came to the captain's quarters complaining of nightmares. In the dreams, a voice was commanding him to take possession of the strange book. After he was given entry to her quarters, the captain could see that the young man was gaunt, unshaven, and clearly disturbed. After a drink of brandy had steeled his nerves, he offered some solutions.

"We can't just pitch the book. It will come back, perhaps in the hands of someone worse than us. I know that sounds crazy, but listen. When I was in university for a short time in Almso, there was a professor there named Ingar Tomebearer. If anyone would know what to do about the book, it would be him. We can't let it fall into the hands of any of these petty noblemen, and we can't let it escape where it can find another master," at this point, he looked severely tired and run down even to the point of collapse. He looked to the captain pitiably, expecting her response to what would under normal circumstances be considered the ravings of a lunatic.

Emmi Emmi

THE FIELDS OF ACRINE, WESTERN HALESTAFF
No one could be sure exactly what had caused it this time, but King Alfred Steelbrooke of Ironforge and King Edward Halestaff were once again at each other's throats. At the urging of the Archbishop of Faversham, the normal means of testing kingly authorities against one another had been foregone in place of another devised contest: a wrestling match. The kings, while both old, were both sprightly and of the opinion they could best their opponent in single combat. A Solabellan, Pietre del Ravebezzo, had been selected as the match's neutral referee and the arrangements were made. Each side had brought many nobles and their levies along to witness the great contest, so that a giant tent city had emerged on the green outside of the walled city of Acrine.

Bryant Helarnd was brought along as part of the king's entourage, although the lack of actual fighting was palpable. Carousing in the tents and listening to bards was fun for some, but others craved more substantial action. Still, Bryant was surprised when he received an official summons to King Alfred's tent. Obeying the missive, he entered the tent guarded by two steel-faced sergeants to find the King, nearing fifty, dressed in a linen undergarment and not much else practicing his grappling on a dummy. Nearby, the Archbishop of Ironforge and Bryant's lord, Robert Talabheim, stood watching the king's practice and attempting to contain their laughter at the old man's expense. They all stopped and looked towards Bryant as he entered.

"Lieutenant Helarnd, please, pull up a chair," the king said, reaching for a towel and dismissing the young officer from the bowing that was customary upon greeting the king. He wiped the sweat from his face and hung the towel about his neck. "Robert tells me you are his best officer, a real master with the axe and shield," he began, "what do you think of the Halestaffen troops you have seen here today? Do you think they match our men?" The two others stood by idly, turning towards Bryant to hear his response.

Erreul Erreul

Meanwhile, in a center of the Halestaffen tents, Godwin Brooker had been sent to fetch a bit of wine from the skins hanging up in a nearby supply wagon. As he was untying the animal skins, he heard someone creep up on him from behind. He was about to reach for his blade, when a set of arms grasped him tightly with an accompanying cry of, "Brother!" He was spun about violently to see the smiling, bearded face of William his older brother. After a long embrace, the man let the bewildered Godwin free and clapped his hands on his shoulders with joy.

"It's been so long, Godwin! I barely recognized you! I had a feeling I would find you here, half the kingdom is camped out waiting for the wrestling match!"

Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic

STREETS OF VALERIA, ESPADA
"Stop him! Stop him! Thief! Thief!"

The master of the Thieves Guild in Toleno had told Alveis this would be an easy in-and-out job. He hadn't quite told him that the man he was stealing from was the captain of the town guard, who was, some might say, vigilant in guarding his prized collection of jewelry against thieves. To be honest, any normal man would have been asleep at two in the morning, but the Captain had a certain set of...proclivities that kept him active into most of the night. Grabbing as much as he could, Alveis was pursued into the street by the stark naked captain carrying a large wooden spoon and two, herm, ladies of the evening, similarly dressed and throwing stones upon the captain's request.

The commotion at once alerted the guards, who came streaming in from the sidestreets with torches out and their swords drawn. A large pack had spotted Alveis and were pursuing him down a crowded alleyway where the second stories of the houses jettied over the stones to plunge the place into nearly complete darkness. He fumbled until he found the dead end of the alley, and with the torches of the guards cresting over the rise and bearing down on him, he had his pick of houses to attempt to hide in or flee through. The door to the left was locked, but a sturdy kick would probably break the hinges. Alternatively, the house to the right had an open window. Whatever his choice, the guards were almost upon him and their swords gleamed by the light of their torches. He faced the potential of an extremely long stay in the dungeon, if not having his hands cut off.

Emmi Emmi

THE PALACE OF THE SCIMITAR, CARIODA
The last man who had been summoned before the Caliph during the Holy Month of Madara had had his head cut off and mounted outside the door for a week. When a courier had come to Uthman Fillipa after morning prayer, the soldier knew that he had done nothing wrong but was likely still nervous at the thought. Nevertheless, he allowed himself to be led from the barracks near the wall of the small port city through the underground bazaar and out into the heights above the city. The minarets of the ancient mosques were the tallest things in the city and stretched up to the clear blue desert sky. In the north, beyond the walls, he could see the settlements and farms clustered around the oases the region was known for. As he turned back through the palace, an Imam in a nearby tower began to sing the Hymn of the Prophet Salhim, a melodious song which resonated throughout the city and reminded the largely Sarazin citizens of the city of their duty on the sacred month.

The throne room was large, bordered on either side by large and ornate columns. The grand hall was covered in magnificent arabesques and colorful patterns. The Caliph himself was prostrate in front of the throne on a prayer mat, and the light that streamed through from the window behind the throne itself caused his face to be obscured in shadow save for the candles on the floor around him. A copy of the Precepts was open in front of him, and his head was bare. To his left and right, vizerias, that is, praying virgins, were also prostrate with their heads turned towards the pillars. When Uthman entered, the Caliph rose to his knees and the women remained prostrate. There was a long silence, then Ali Aburki stood and made a sign of welcome to the captain of men. He invited him to kneel on a comfortable pillow-like mat before the throne.

"I am glad to see you, my humble servant," said the Sarazin leader, "I have need of your valorous feats and strength in arms."

Nyq Nyq

THE ROAD OUTSIDE DUBURQA
The roadside was litered with charred remains on stakes for miles, and the smell was deeply offensive to all the men in Pasha's company of soldiers as they marched to reinforce the garrison at Duburqa from attack by the horse nomads of the eastern plains. While Otto Murad's own lands directly south of Al-Araby were safe from attack, Duburqa was a lightly defended town that made boatloads of coin for the Sultanate in silk trade, therefore it was the least he could do to render this service to his lord the Sultan. Word had reached them of the witch burnings, but the reports were not greatly exaggerated. The level of death was astounding, but as they were pagans and practitioners of dark magic they were worse than even the infidels of Velania and deserved everything they got.

Camping by the roadside on their second day of travel in an area relatively free of corpses, they noticed that a dune in the far west had, yes certainly had, moved... They waited a few more hours, and sure enough the sand was shifting noticeably. The men were frightened, having been filled with fearful stories about wicked Djinn or other evil spirits of the desert. A captain entered Pasha's tent about midnight with his helmet under his arm and waited for his lord to finish his late night prayers before stating the case.

"The men are restless, my lord. They say they will not march to Duburqa unless something is done to excise this place of evil spirits," the captain said, obviously dubious of the men's claims and more skeptical than most Al'Sharam.

Heyitsjiwon Heyitsjiwon

HILLS SOUTH OF PIZAVIENZA
The Senatores had a habit of making people very angry from time to time, and the minor nobles of the realm were no exception. Fearing that the Senate would confiscate his lands due to his...questionable relationship with nobles from the Al'Sharam Sultanate, Lord Antonio Balacci had fled his holdings south of Pizavienza with a small army into the hills south of the city. As the Lord of the Province, Lord Romero was dispatched by the Senate to deal with the rebellious lord and, if successful, take his lands and rents under his own personal jurisdiction. It would represent a twofold increase in the riches and lands of House Romero, and thus the Lord's men set out upon the shoddy ancient roads to find and kill the traitorous lord.

In accompaniment, a company of black riders from Nueheim. Long retained by the Senate for policing duties, the riders had been itching for real conflict for at least a year now. The coin was good and lodging comfortable, but they all jumped at the opportunity to assist Lord Romero in defeating the rebel Balacci. The two groups met at the foot of a tall hill where the old and partially-ruined Castle Ulmilia had stood for centuries. From the banners flapping on the towers, their target was judged to most definitely be inside. The two camps merged, and Lord Romero had called the mercenary captain August von Korov into his tent to discuss their plan of attack.

Soviet Panda Soviet Panda Kersey Kersey

ROAD SOUTH OF OLZA
It was not a glamorous job, but someone had to do it. While the High King had other plans for his own men, a minor Jarl like Eindride Sjaelfund was seen as the perfect candidate for the arduous job of digging Olza out of the snow. While his men worked themselves to the bone with shovels to clear a path along the road, the Jarl sat in his hastily-constructed longhouse - no doubt fuming about his assignment. As he was busy writing his correspondences, his tent was visited by a group of unusual creatures. They were dwarves, about three feet high, round and stout in their constitution and covered over with furs and other warm clothing. Their beards, which were long and more impressive than any human beard, were fiery red and their eyes beamed with the intensity of the forge. Eindride had never seen dwarves in person, although they were well-recorded in Svaelund's oral and written histories. Despite the solidness of their appearance, they seemed somewhat ethereal and their skin was as white as driven snow.

The dwarves saluted the Jarl. "Glory to you, Jarl of Men. I am Bolimund of the Court of the Mountain King Hrothgar. We were told you were the man to talk to about the...blizzard situation." The dwarves all fixed their eyes upon the Jarl.

General Deth Glitch General Deth Glitch
 
Bey Pasha sighed as he heard that some of the men REFUSED to march forward. It was one thing to be concerned and afraid. It was another to be insubordinate and disobey orders. This would not do. He replied to the Captain "Rally the men outside. I will speak to them." Bey Pasha then began to prepare to ride into the desert. A few moments later, Bey Pasha could hear chatter outside his tent, which was when he left his tent to meet his retinue. Silence fell upon the camp as the men stood at attention in respect and likely a bit of fear. Bey Pasha let the uncomfortable silence drag on as he walked to one of his camels. He took his time as he double checked his reins and the saddle before mounting the animal.

It was then that he said "I hear that some of you refuse to march forward to the city. That you fear supposed evil spirits more than you fear me, the Sultan, and God. Very well, if you will not march to the city until the lands are clear of evil spirits, then so be it. We will not go and call the local imam to cleanse these lands. Nay, we shall do it ourselves. Any man who refuses to do God's will and purge these lands of evil will be burned at the stake as well for being suspected pagan sympathizers. Thus, the choice is yours. Fight against these evil spirits and die knowing that your forefathers will welcome you to heaven with open arms, or cower from your duty to your Lord and God and burn for all eternity in this world and in the next. If you are brave and loyal followers of the Sultan and of God, then I order you. Break camp and march with me for I ride straight to fight the unholy who profane these lands and sully the name of God."

With that, Bey Pasha urged his camel to begin walking towards the west to investigate the sand dunes as he grabbed a torch from a nearby soldier to light the way. The idea was straightforward. Fear was poison in the mind of men. A little bit was helpful and was often medicinal, but too much... and it paralyzes men's bodies and spirits. Thus, Bey Pasha decided that the only acceptable choice in this situation was to force the men to face their fears head on. If it turned to be a trick of the eye, then they would all be more confident next time. However, if there was dark magic involved, then this was an issue that had to be dealt with and those who survived would be more prepared to face the darkness next time as well knowing that they had fought it once before.
 
Godwin was ecstatic to see his older brother again. "It is good to see you again, brother! Indeed it has been a long time. I image you are here to witness the wrestling match." Godwin then proceeds to untie the animal skins, as he was before being interrupted by William. "How goes life, William? What have you been up to during your time in service? Bandit hunting?" He said that last remark a bit jokingly and gave a small chuckle after saying it. In time, Godwin had finished untying animal skins and grabbing a bottle of wine. "Do you ever miss those swordfights of our youth, William? Before father went away? Those days out in the open fields, just you, me, and Hopkin, without a care in the world." He sighs, recalling his youth days before starting to walk back to the tents. "Well, I must get going William, I just out here to fetch some wine. You're welcome to come along, if you like; I could introduce you to some of the men here." Godwin takes a few steps in the direction of the tents, memories of his youth still in his mind, before stopping himself. "What's Hopkin been up to? Have you any contact with him?"
 

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[IMG='width:1226px;']https://i.pinimg.com/736x/72/8d/91/728d91c579fcda990fa52018fbe2e6d3.jpg[/IMG]
The blonde pirate stared blankly at her emerald amulet, over a million thoughts going on in her head. After their victory, instead of feeling happy and successful, she seemed more... blank... emotionless... or indifferent. Almost as if she felt bored. She wanted a challenge. A real challenge. Not something that's practically given to her. After the raid, her crew had successfully stolen the gold, and an ancient tome. The tome was written in a language that was not identifiable, and even Celeste herself doesn't understand the strange script. Her crew seems to be afraid of the harmless book, and she doesn't understand why. Why would they be afraid of a mere book? Granted, its aura seemed... dark and evil.

The captain allowed the boatswain Edgar Olman to come to her quarters. Apparently it was regarding strange nightmares, and Celeste found this amusing. They were mere nightmares, which were nothing to be afraid of.

As he came to her quarters, she noticed that he was highly disturbed. Celeste raised an eyebrow, and motioned for him to speak, taking a sip from her bottle of rum.

"We can't just pitch the book. It will come back, perhaps in the hands of someone worse than us. I know that sounds crazy, but listen. When I was in university for a short time in Almso, there was a professor there named Ingar Tomebearer. If anyone would know what to do about the book, it would be him. We can't let it fall into the hands of any of these petty noblemen, and we can't let it escape where it can find another master."

The captain of the ship gazed at Edgar, her eyes dull and cold like foggy ice. "It's just a book." She stated, setting down her bottle. "A book that cannot move. A book that cannot choose 'masters'." Her blue eyes stared at the boatswain's face, clearly bored. "They are just nightmares, Edgar. They 'ave no real meaning. If my nightmares were reality--" She paused, before taking another sip of her rum. "'Tis book is just a book and 'olds no importance." Celeste slowly stood up from her seat, her sheathed cutlass in hand. "'Tis professor--Tomb bearer? You 'onestly think that 'e would welcome us pirates with open arms?" She inhaled sharply, her voice growing higher.

"'Owever, Edgar, if you have any more of these... 'important' nightmares of yours, feel free to drink a bottle of brandy. Aye?" She said, clearly stating that his nightmares hold no meaning. She cared for her boatswain, even if she seemed a bit too harsh and sarcastic. "And... come to my quarters regarding more important matters." With her sentence echoing in the air, it was clear that the captain did not believe in magical items or evil books.


Mood: Amused || Interacting With: Shireling Shireling || Mentioned: N/A














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[IMG='width:1226px;']https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ea/53/6d/ea536dbdb921bd9a4204bddb14093305.jpg[/IMG]
"Stop him! Stop him! Thief! Thief!"

A very evil giggle echoed in the air, and a small boy with long, raven hair stylized in a pony tail running. His hair flying behind him, and his black robe flying as well. His heeled boots clacked on the stone floor. Alveis's mischievous smirk had turned into a stern pokerface. The Thieves Guild mentioned this would be an easy job. Alveis believed him--until the captain of the town guard was chasing him. It was surprising the small boy had managed to steal it in the first place. Now, he just had to escape, since he wanted both his hands on him. He hadn't had much time to loot the whole place. He just took a few things and left, since the captain was hot on his trail.

Alveis looked behind and saw him naked. He whistled at the captain as a joke, before he sped off.

Because of the shouting and throwing of rocks, the guards were immediately alerted, and started to chase the fourteen year old teenager. They came in from the sidestreets with their torches and swords. Alveis darted towards the crowded alleyway. Clumsily moving around, he found the dead end of the alleyway. Blue eyes wide, he swallowed, nervously. Gotta act fast before my hands get chopped like celery, he thought, biting his lip. Looking over at the houses, he decided to hide in one of them. He could kick the door at the left--but that would be too loud, causing the guards to know his exact location and the family inside to report a break in. The other house however, had an open window. This would allow Alveis to sneak in without much noise.

That's when a thought dawned over him. The guards would most likely search the houses, resulting in getting caught. Swallowing his spit, he decided to go on until his last breath, and jumped up to the window, gripping the very edge of the window. He was holding on tightly, grimacing. His knuckles were white, showing the strength he's using. He lunged inside the window using his leg, and climbed inside. He rolled over on the floor, and fell on his stomach on the floor. He sighed in relief, before realizing that he had to act fast if he didn't want to get caught. He heard a gasp at the corner of the room, and he immediately turned to see a five year old petite girl staring at him with her hazelnut eyes and long, brown hair. She was holding a large, handmade doll.

Alveis sucked in his breath, before grinning. He bent down, and pressed his finger against his lips, hushing her. "Shh, wouldn't want me to steal your doll, right?" The girl nodded, eagerly. "In that case, act like I'm not here." The girl slowly nodded, a bit sheepish.


Mood: Anxious, Paranoid. || Interacting with/Mentioned: Shireling Shireling
 
Bryant gave a nod to the other two men before grabbing a chair from the corner and pulling up with the others now sitting at the table. He chewed the question over as he looked at the wood and ran his hand over it, taking the question extremely seriously and the weight was clearly showing on his face, his brows curling and his eyes blanking. With the forces they had here and what the forces the then enemy would bring, weighing different situations and different outcomes. He then looked up at his lord then to his archbishop, finally wresting his eyes on his king. “If we made it to the forrests, or mountains, or got them unorganized, yes, my king we would, but they would slaughter us in open combat. Plus I’d assume that they would be reincforced by the city garrison.” He once again went over the ideas in his head and shook his head slowly. “Unless we can get organized first, and choose the battlefield, I would council caution, not least for the fact every knight worth their salt will no doubt be here to watch their king.” He leaned back and beggan to think of how to accomplish such a feat, the clocks beggining to turn as he rubbed his chin with his hand before finally coming back. “Shall I inform the Captian we are to make ready my king?”
 
Sebastian stared sightlessly at a map his Senate provided cartographer had quickly scratched out of the surrounding area, for he had seen enough when he took a look at what he was to deal with. Castle Ulmilia, though in disrepair, was still a castle. That meant his men would have to approach the walls and clamber up makeshift ladders to get at the prepared defenders, who would no doubt be tossing stones and be prepared with weapons at the ready to meet the first of the attackers. He really should have expected something like this to occur, because it was something he himself would have done.

His musings were cut short as that mercenary captain August von Korov arrived. "Take a seat," he said before doing so himself. The seats were the light weight, folding variety, and Sebastian's had a nasty habit of wanting to tuck a leg underneath itself and dumping it's occupant onto the floor. Though it was nothing a firm hand couldn't fix. "As you can see, Balacci has holed himself in that castle. I do not wish to throw my men at it's walls in a vain attempt to end this quickly. They no doubt have seen us, and I would not be surprised if that rat has an escape for himself. I would like you to patrol their walls and make sure they do not go anywhere while he is starved out. And, if you can spare the man, I would like one of your riders to ride to Pizavienza for additional supplies. Food and water, nothing else. You have your orders, Captain. I will have my men ready should you find something you cannot handle."

With that, he waved a hand to dismiss the mercenary. He had one other thing to plan, one that didn't require much planning funnily enough. He was after just one person, Balacci. Present Balacci's men with the option of either handing over their rebellious lord and instead look to serve him, or starve with him. If everything went well, Balacci would be in his possession by the next day.
 
DUNES NORTHEAST OF DUBURQA
As Pasha's men trudged into the sand, the sense of dread was palpable among some, while some of the more grizzled veterans were completely stoic about the entire task. For a while, travelling into the cold desert by torchlight, they did not discover anything, but after about an hour of walking towards the mysterious dune with the aforementioned mountain of sand seemingly no closer at hand, a man in the back of the line screamed a horrible, blood-curdling scream. The men around him turned to see the young soldier writhing on the sand in apparent agony, as he alternated between shouting pleas for help and the harshest blasphemies. Another soldier took out his knife to remove the tongue of anyone so insolent as would blaspheme the Prophet before a much wiser comrade stopped him by placing a firm grip on his bracer.

"He is possessed. There is nothing we have the power to do for him now. We should take him back to camp and tie him up until we get to Duburqa." Said the intercessor.

As they stood about for this short deliberation, the wind picked up and shifted the sand. Pasha's camel snorted and reared back in fright as hundreds of spectral images emerged from the desert floor. While the ghosts were hard to make out, they seemed to be in the form of human corpses with bones exposed, the flesh burned to a crisp. As they beheld the ghostly visitors, one of them made a rush for the closest soldier. Rather than fighting, he dropped to his knees and began to pray for God's protection. The ghost seemed to double-back, as if struck with a large weapon, before the entire assemblage of spectral figures charged the group of soldiers, attempting to rend them with immaterial claws. The soldiers used their swords against them, and surprisingly found that the spirits gave way under their steel. A melee ensued, Sultanate soldiers and shades dancing about one another in deadly battle. A particularly tall spirit swiped across Pasha's camel which, while not killing the animal, caused it to throw its rider. Thus, Bey Pasha crashed to the sand with only a second to raise a defense against the ghostly visage closing in on him.

Heyitsjiwon Heyitsjiwon

THE FIELDS OF ACRINE
The king paused for a moment, then laughed. The other two lords accompanying him, who had at first seemed uncomfortable while Bryant spoke, smiled and seemed to lighten up with the king. "I admire that fire, that tenacity, lieutenant, but I was thinking of honoring my agreement to his holiness, the Archbishop of Faversham, to go through with this contest. I intend to show that Halestaff is weak in both body and the head," he said, placing on an undershirt and then a shirt of red, kingly gambeson with gilded trim.

"Now, if Halestaff were to break our agreement.. That is a different story..."

Erreul Erreul

William helped his brother pull down the skins and began carrying them back to the circle of tents Godwin had come from with two under each arm. "I've spent most of my time with Lord Baselaux north of Faversham. Mostly enforcing revenues, only a few little pockets of banditry." He paused and got silent for a moment when he mentioned Hopkin. "I haven't heard from him. Last I knew, he was going with Lord Ulran's party to Donkirk Island, north of Hollyhead Port, but that was months ago."

Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic

 
Uthman Fillipa
Carioda, Rebel Caliph del Sol


Uthman laid prostate on the floors of the prayer room in the barracks, mentally reciting passages from the Precepts, just like he did every other morning for the daily prayers. His troops were also doing the same, although Uthman cannot be sure if they're as devout to the teachings of the Prophet as he is. After all, a huge portion of them only followed him out of personal loyalty, albeit some new Sarazin recruits had been brought in recently to replace the losses, losses that he still regrets even though they died for a worthy cause.

The captain slowly rose up from his prostate position after finishing his prayers, and found himself faced with a member of the royal guard as soon as he stepped out of the roof. "The Caliph summons you to his court, Captain Uthman." said the man. "Come with me."

The man gestured for Uthman to follow him as he leads the leader of men to the Palace, passing through the underground bazaar as well as the city heights. As they moved on towards the palace, Uthman couldn't help but wonder why the Caliph had summoned him. Was it because he had wronged the ruler in some manner? Probably not. Perhaps the foul heretics to the north, those damn Espadans, are invading the realm of the true believers once again? Uthman hoped that it is the case, it's high time that he expanded his collection of slaves, especially since that Diego, his favourite punching bag had succumbed to his wounds just a few weeks ago. The one replacing him isn't nearly as satisfactory. Uthman shook his head silently as he recalled the fool's high pitched screams as he landed his punches on the his gut, that fool was whining like a little pig. At least Diego had some dignity left in him.

It didn't take long for the two to reach the Palace of the Scimitar. The guardsmen halted in front of the entrance and gestured for him to enter, which he did. Once inside, he found the Caliph, as well as two vizerias beside him, prostate on the ground. He averted his sight from the praying virgins, as it is an uncouth thing to do to stare at their holy bodies. Uthman stood silent as he waited forthe Caliph to finish his prayer. A while later, the Caliph stood and welcomed him, before inviting him to kneel on the mat before the throne.

Upon the invitation of the Caliph, Uthman knelt onto the mat, taking extra care as to not show any disrespect towards the man in front of him. Once he has fully knelt down, he slightly bowed with his hands folded in front of his chest before asking. "How can I be of assistance to you, my lord?"
 
Harold Solene 'the bastard of' DeRamure.
THE COURT OF KING MONTAIGNE, CLERMOT CASTLE

Shireling Shireling

Harold's original reason for attending the enormous feast held by his majesty the king was quickly forgotten when he arrived at the castle. The significance of every word spoken and the intoxicating aroma of power was trying for the man of action, but he wasn't one to allow his own pains to define events. He stayed quiet from the moment he entered, speaking only when spoken to and holding conversations for meager minutes at the most. From the moment he sat down he shrouded his intents in mystery and mild piety, and while interesting to talk about, it made him less than engaging to talk to.
However with more wine came looser lips and Harold's numbered among them. It had caught him off guard when he and the Prince Eduardo of Espada reached for the same plate of roasted duck, leading to an impromptu conversation that quickly moved from the taste of the evening's roast duck to the Dettori method of horse riding and its effectiveness against the modern weapons of the age. Harold found the prince to be of better company than most and when the topic of jousting arrived Harold was more than willing to discuss his love for the sport and its importance as both a test of one's prowess and their sportsmanship.


"It often eludes me how such a sport is yet tradition in the west, your highness, but I would be more than humbled to share with you what I know." He started, watching the prince turn his attention to already introduced Sir Quejada de Las Colinas whose company was enjoyable but not as much so as the prince's. "Each tourney is different but I promise you none are like the duels you're familiar with." He raised his hand with a warm smile on his face, almost laughing as he explained, "And I don't mean that in a bad way. There's much to love about the wind rushing over you and your stead as you clash with another. It's a show of power and control, of a deeper understanding of your weapons and your animal. It is the rush you feel when you break through a line, the symbolism of your prowess over another, and it's all in good sport."
He stops for a moment to wave over a servant girl. When she came he passed her his empty goblet, gesturing for her to fill it with wine. She hastily did so with a look of exhaustion about her. The night was still young but with the constant service expected of them he could understand how they might look this way already. He nods to her as she leaves and takes a large mouthful from his goblet. "So in short, your highness, I think you'll enjoy the sport. So long as you're familiar with riding and carry yourself with the same grace you're known for, you'll have light competition."
 
Eindride was sat, angrily writing letters to many folks, when some short men came and saluted him. He could tell what they were and soon they spoke "Glory to you, Jarl of Men. I am Bolimund of the Court of the Mountain King Hrothgar. We were told you were the man to talk to about the...blizzard situation." He paused for a moment and looked them up and down before constructing his reply.
"Aye, that I am. Sent to the far side of the mountains and the Kingdom to clear this fucking snow. Why? Because my King, the King of these people, cant run the realm to save his own backside and prioritises his own comfort over their lives. I'll tell you this and all fair spirits, it was work enough just to make the journey here to make a damn start." He stood up and grabbed various objects, giving the stout folk a quizzical look to try and find 'furniture' of the right size. "Please do sit. It is a pleasure to meet such as yourselves and I apologise for my manor. Please, master Bolimund of the Mountain King, can you assist me and mine in any way? I provide whatever aid I can in return but this must remain my priority. Without trade and with the effects of Winter so harsh on these people they will be both unable to buy food in the coming months and the ground will grow little if any for them." He sat back down and continued "My concern is that this is done quickly so that they can benefit from the money made by travellers passing by on their way too and from the capital in these vital months, tradesmen need to travel and often need to do so for less then the price of sea fare. The longer this takes the more trade they lose and more will starve in the coming months..." He paused, the sentence sounding unfinished "My people are a fair distance away. My duty is to them and as I sit here, as selfish as it seems, I am unable to tend to their needs and the months are no less bad for them, the only saving grace is that our food comes mostly from the sea and the white can only stop their access by land, not sea."
 
Captain August von Korov of the Scwharze Reiter Kompanie, Hills South of Pizavienza

"Captain von Korov, the Lord Romero wishes to see you in his tent immediately", spoke the messenger, a scrawny young pikeman who had interrupted the Captain's conversation with one of his sergeants, a Valls Rafez from Espada. August, who seemed a bit irritated by this, waved the pikeman away before ordering Rafez to "speak with the other sergeants and have the men mount morning, afternoon, evening, and nighttime patrols around the castle". He then ended the conversation and begun to make his way to the Solabellan side of the camp, a trek which took only a few minutes.


August entered Romero's tent and removed his black and gold helmet prior to addressing the Lord; he ignored the command to take a seat and remained standing throughout. After receiving his orders, he performed a cursory bow of his head and returned to the Schwarze Reiter Kompanie's section of the camp from which he sent two of his schwarze reiters to Pizavienza to purchase additional food and water.
 
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Bryant nodded and looked at his lord with a questioning look. Was he not to answer honestly when his eminence asks him? He had looked quiet uneasy when he was hiving his opinion, something he would have to ask about afterwards. He quickly looked around the tent to see if anyone else had slid in or was vissibly watching from the outside of the tent. Some knights were known to have tempers on the other side, and that could certainly used to our advantage if an ‘accident’ was to happen during the time here. Losing face least, the chance to drag in international support and acceptance of retaliation more-so. He looked over to the Bishop and nodded at his kings statement, clasping his hands together as he did. “Maybe something might happen for some of their boys to say, assault a Lieutenant where he gets away by the skin of his teeth, in such a public way?” It would be hard to do in such a way, but he was comfident that he could pull it off. “I am of course here to serve, Sire.”
 
Godwin gave out a little chuckle. "A lack of banditry is always a good thing, I suppose." A feeling of worry and dread swept over Godwin when William told him of Hopkin. He stopped in his tracks. "I've not heard of Donkirk Island before. How far north is it? What was the purpose they went there? What were the conditions at sea when they departed? Is there some sort of danger there that needs facing?" Godwin questioned is brother about everything he knew about Hopkin's expedition north. Months without contact means one of two things: the island is exceptionally far away and it takes a long while for news to reach home or there has been a tragedy, and Godwin hopes that it was the former.
 
MIDDLE SEA
A few days passed uneventfully on the Truth of the Sea, save for a pervading atmosphere of dread. Three days after the capture of the Sultanate cargo galley, the ship was caught in a severe storm with lightning dancing off the hull and frightening the crew. When they finally found land to get their bearings, they were skirting the northeastern coast of the Caliph del Sol. It was late in the evening after repairs had been made that a lieutenant came into the captain's quarters to fetch Celeste. There was, again, bad news.

The officer said it pertained to Edgar Olman, but wouldn't say anymore. He took her down a small hallway under the quarterdeck and into the brig where they had locked the poor boatswain the night before.

"He tried to throw himself into the ocean. He tried, five maybe six times before we tied him up and brought him down there. He was holding this," the lieutenant passed her the infernal book from a nearby table, which caused Edgar to rise in his chained position behind the iron bars and growl animalistically, pulling with uncanny force at the fetters that held him bound to the side of the ship.

"We didn't have him chained before, but look at this," the lieutenant offered, lighting a nearby oil lamp and holding it up to the bars. Scrawled in blood all over the walls were odd symbols, writing in a language that was heretofore unknown, and pictures of strange creatures and alien cities contorted in unnatural shapes with odd, Cyclopean geometry. The lieutenant set the lamp down and took a hard look at Celeste. "Captain, what on earth is that thing?" He pointed to the book.

Emmi Emmi

THE PALACE OF SCIMITARS, CALIPH DEL SOL
Ali Aburki stood and placed a blessing over Uthman. As both the political and spiritual leader of his people, Aburki's blessing carried enormous weight. "My son, adopted from the infidels and forged into a mighty weapon of God. I knew no better man to undertake my quest which would require cunning, bravery, and strength." He walked away a bit and stood looking towards the window behind the empty throne.

"King Veluca is massing an army in the north. I felt it in my bones, but more than that my spies have told me as much. With a mass of Espadans like that, walls or no walls, the city will fall and the infidels will once again rule us. I appealed to help from Sultan Rouan'si, but the aid he promised me didn't arrive on time. I learned from my correspondences in Solabella that the ship carrying our war treasure was intercepted by a pirate ship off the coast of the Cape of Swords after its escort was grounded on the reefs." He paused. "If all that we had lost was gold, that would be one thing. We lost something else entirely. Some call it, the Spell Book of the Mad Sarazin, or Black Enchiridion." He paused again. "I expect you to understand that we would not normally resort to the black arts, but to serve the will of God, and where the will of God is manifest no means may be spared. With the power of the Mad Arab's book, we may send a blight upon the lands of Espada, call up demons from the sea to sink their armada, and likewise conduct warfare on a scale that my paltry company could not."

Aburki began marching back towards him. "You set sail tonight. The ship has been spotted not twelve hours ago on our eastern coast. Capture the pirate vessel, leave none alive, and retrieve for me the Black Enchiridion."

Nyq Nyq
 
Lord Pasha was winded from being thrown from his camel, but this was no time to take a minute to catch his breath as a spectral being approached him. With only his torch in hand and ready, he desperately swung the torch at the approaching spirit as he yelled "There is no other god than God!" as a war cry and a call to rally. They would have to maintain their formation discipline to deal with such large numbers of cursed heathens spirits and perhaps protection from the heavens as the great evil needed to be purged from these lands.
 
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Uthman Fillipa
Carioda, Rebel Caliph del Sol


Uthman tried his best to not show his joy as the Caliph placed a blessing over him. As a devout follower of the Desert Precepts, the blessing of the Caliph is an immense honour for the captain. He then proceeded to listen as the Caliph spoke to him. He restrained his scowl as his foul kin to the north were mentioned, those heretics shall pay for their transgressions against the true believers! However, his rage turned into confusion as the Black Enchiridion was mentioned. The name was one that he knew, as he had heard many tales of the evils contained within the books; Powerful daemons whose screams are so terrible that mortals would die immediately after hearing it, with blood streaming out of all their orifices. Evil storms that rained blood and the flesh of man, damning all that it touched for eternity. Spells that turned men into an abomination of walking limbs and screaming mouths. The memories of all these tales sent shivers into his spine, but he must stay resolute, for the black arts might be the only way of defending the realm of the true believers against the foul heretic. He shall retrieve the book for the Caliph, no matter the cost.

"Consider it done, my lord." Uthman once again folded his hands in front of his chest before he left the palace.


The captain stepped through the doors of the barracks, only to faced with a question from one of his men.

"Captain, what's going on? I heard that you were summoned before the Caliph."

"We're going for a mission, Ibraheem. A mission given to us by none other than our glorious Caliph to defend the realm of the true believers." Uthman replied with a wide smile on his face, only to receive an indifferent look from Ibraheem. If the man wasn't one of his most loyal followers that had been with him since the beginning, Uthman would've had him flogged in public. "Come on, Ib. Lighten up, it's a holy mission for fuck's sake." A brief silence followed. "Fine, there's be loot."

Just as the captain expected, Ibraheem's eyes lighted up at the mention of loot. "How much, captain?"

"Pray that the pirates had hit a few rich fucks before targeting the wrong ship." Uthman restrained his rage as he recalled what his quarries did to his fellow believers. They'll pay for their insolence soon enough....Is there still space left in his dungeon?

"When are we heading out captain." Ibraheem sounds almost too eager now.

"We're going tonight, Ib. Tell the men to pack up."

"Yes, captain!" Ibraheem saluted before rushing off.

Uthman sighed and shook his head as he watched his friend depart. The man is still the greedy person that he is years ago, and despite Uthman's efforts to convert the man into a pious warrior of the faith, he still remained mostly the same. The captain took a brief moment to reminisce about the glory days of the past before leaving to pack up his belongings.


A lone ship set sail from the ports of Various at the middle of the night, filled with the brave soldiers serving under Uthman, all eager to battle the heretics that impeded the actions of the true believers.
 
STREETS OF VALERIA, ESPADA
Alveis's maneuver had, at first, thrown off the guards. The little girl whose bedroom had been broken into agreed to his terms with a silent nod, but her father who came bursting in from the hallway did not.

"Lydia, I heard a..." The townsman's eyes grew wide at the sight. He reached for the nearest implement that could be used as a weapon, a fire-stoker, and waved it at Alveis shouting, "Have at you!" The guards, hearing the commotion, promptly broke the man's door down and started flooding the house, and the girl who had once been willing to keep quiet screamed, waking the whole neighborhood. Alveis would have to act fast, to firstly dodge the townsman's attack and then to attempt to flee the house which was filling up quickly with town watch.

Emmi Emmi

FIELDS OF ACRINE
tournament tents.jpgKing Alfred contracted a wide grin. "Why yes, I suppose if a few temperamental Halestaffen knights were to assault a respected and honestly reputed lieutenant, that demonstrate a great deal of bad faith on the part of Halestaff," he said, referring to the person of the king and not the kingdom proper. "Say, my son," the king began in a sarcastic tone of voice that was meant to convey the double meaning of his order, "I believe that fostering princely comradery between our two countries would be mutually beneficial. What if you were to bring this over to the Halestaffen men, courtesy of his lordship King Alfred Steelbrooke," in saying this he handed Bryant a small cask of ale which, although a pleasant gift for anyone in Ironforge, Oldenreich, or Svaelund, would have been a slight to the sensibilities of the Halestaffen who much preferred sweet wines and might encourage them to anger.

"Take it their camp and present it as a gift of good will." The King said with a wink.

Erreul Erreul

Hopkin knitted his brow in confusion. "I can't say I rightly know, although I think Donkirk is closer to Svaelund than it is to Albion and north, they say, of Almso. I'm really not sure, Godwin." He held the skins out for the knights that had requested them seated around a fire between the tents of the Halestaffen army. "I hope for the sake of the family he's alright, but one can never be sure these days. Do you know where you'll be stationed the next few months? I might be able to write to you, although sometimes the roads are bad and the couriers don't always get there in time."

Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic

THE COURT OF KING MONTAIGNE
"I do hope so, good sir-knight," Eduardo said with a grin, "I was thinking of entering the tournament myself. My horse Picadore is a fine steed, and I would love to try the swiftness of an Espadan stallion against your hardy Clerimontain mounts."

"Sweet Rocinante could out-class even the Sarazin racehorse, I wager!" Sir Quejada slurred, likely drunk.

"I suppose she could, in her prime, if said Sarazin beast was lamed, and if you could but keep the gnats off of her," Eduardo countered, looking towards Harold with a smile of fatigue and mirth. "So, Sir Solene, I must turn the topic to more serious and transcendental things as of late. I suppose you know that King Montaigne has a young daughter, ten years old. The purpose of my visit was mostly to represent my father, who is busy with preparations of arms for campaigns he intends to wage when the March brings the thaw, but I was also brought forth to examine the young Emilie Montaigne so that, perhaps, she might make a suitable match to myself in a couple of years. While we were talking, his highness told me that he has heard of your exploits, and is impressed. Furthermore, this talk of a new crusade which has been on your lips as of late has him greatly intrigued, and dare I say that I share his interest."

He glanced towards Harold for comment.

Crumbli Crumbli

NEAR OLZA, SVAELUND
dwarves.jpgBolimund put his hat in his hand and made a sign of pleasant refusal to sit. "No no, no chairs for us. We know why Olza is buried in the snow and we can tell you exactly how to fix it, that way you can get on back to yer own people, Jarl." The dwarves looked at each other and said something in a low, guttural language that reminded Eindride in a way of the sound of a bellows stoking a fire.

"A couple of months ago, a messenger came to the Mountain King, a messenger from Men. He told us that the curator of the library in Olza, Kynra, was a lover to the Jarl Uldrun. That she was an enchantress, and slighted by her love who chose to discard her rather than take her as a second wife, she had retreated into the mountains and called upon the winter spirits. In her rage, she blanketed the city in snow until Jarl Uldrun acknowledges her love."

One of the dwarves smacked his forehead with his hand as if to say, "You silly humans."

Bolimund was not amused, however, "The presence of a fey enchantress is bad news for us as well as your kind. Therefore, Hrothgar had deputized me a Thane of the Mountain, with my badge of office," he held up an ornate, dwarven-wrought one-handed axe, "me and my men will follow you. We can guide you to the witch's lair where we can end her---alternately, if you can find Jarl Uldrun he can make a peaceable end to this ordeal."

General Deth Glitch General Deth Glitch

CASTLE ULMILIA, CENTRAL SOLABELLA
The next day, when Von Korov's mercenaries returned with supplies from Pizavienza, Balacci's men still seemed to be mulling over their options. The offer of surrender had been made two days ago, but no message had yet been received and they had no intelligence as to how much food the rebel lord had brought with him, although they knew that the castle had a well. On the second day, a sapper from Lord Romero's army informed his lord that there was a network of thousand-year-old catacombs that lay under the castle that could be easily accessed by digging a shallow tunnel in the side of a nearby hill. With the element of surprise, they might be able to overwhelm the garrison, or they could sneak in an agent to open up the gates and capture the castle that way.

Otherwise, they might remain attempting to starve Ballaci out.

Soviet Panda Soviet Panda Kersey Kersey
 

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[IMG='width:1226px;']https://i.pinimg.com/originals/63/71/af/6371aff53a5be68bea8be779b2d05481.png[/IMG]
Celeste was once again in the captain's quarters, but this time she was calmly painting a landscape, or a haven with flowers and dandelions out of her imagination. Using oil paints and pig bristle paintbrushes. A few days had barely past on her ship, and she really needed to calm down before she ended up murdering a poor member of the crew. Three days after the recent capture, the ship was caught in a severe storm, and they barely managed to survive. Once they finally found land, they were skirting the northeastern coast of the Caliph del Sol, according to the blonde pirate's map. It was late in the evenings, and the repairs of the ship have been made. Celeste thought that there would be finally peace and quiet, until a lieutenant came inside. Apparently, there was again, bad news.

Clearly annoyed but curious, she silently placed her paints down, and looked over at the lieutenant. He said it was regarding Edgar Olman, the man who had come to her quarters mentioning a book.

She sighed in distaste, but followed the officer in a small hallway under the quarterdeck and into the brig. Her blue-ish grey eyes widened, staring at the locked up boatswain. She stared at his facial features and appearance, but alas, it was too dark to see. Her thoughts were mindlessly wondering, before she was snapped out of them.

"He tried to throw himself into the ocean. He tried, five maybe six times before we tied him up and brought him down there. He was holding this," much to Celeste's surprise, the lieutenant passed her the book the crew was so afraid of from a nearby table. Edgar to rise in his chained position behind the iron bars and deeply growl like some type of animal--like a savage--and pilled at the fetters that held him bound to the side of the ship with ridiculous force. She stared at Edgar for a long moment, her face indifferent, but looked back down at the book, running her palm across the cover. Her eyebrow raised, she looked back at the lieutenant.

"We didn't have him chained before, but look at this," the lieutenant offered. He lit a nearby oil lamp, and held it up to the bars. All over the walls were odd symbols that Celeste had never seen before, written messily in blood. There were pictures of strange creatures and alien cities. They were bent into shapes with geometry that was very strange and odd. The lieutenant set the lamp down and took a hard look at Celeste. "Captain, what on earth is that thing?" He pointed to the book.

Celeste stared at the book for a long moment, and pursed her lips. Perhaps this book was more than a book? That would explain Edgar's behavior... and the odd symbols and pictures on the walls. Inspecting the book, she slowly said, "I... 'ave no idea." She paused, her fingers gently touching the book. She looked back at Edgar's state, then back at this book. Conceivably, the book may be the cause of this horrific effect.

Or, your boatswain simply went crazy. A faint voice inside the pirate said. Maybe 'e was unable to 'andle the rejection of his idea from you. A book being the cause of this nonsense? Your crew is playing a trick on you, Captain. They 'ave distaste for you. Alas, this is a cruel joke.

Shut up, she replied back. I care about my crew's opinion, and they care about mine. Her gaze went to the lieutenant, "But I don't intend to stay ignorant. Mr. Olman had come to my quarters a few nights before regarding this..." she paused, trying to find the right words. "demonic book." She tried to think of what Edgar had stated--who was the man that knew abou the book? Or well, would know about it? He was a professor in Almso according to Edgar. But, what was his name? "'e 'ad mentioned a professor a few days ago--Tomb bearer? Or Ingar Tomebearer? 'e resides in Almso, according to Mr. Olman. Per'aps--" She sighed--"Per'aps this Professor Tomebearer would know what this book is..." She trailed off, an idea was ringing in her ears.

Celeste then walked out of the brig, her heeled boots echoing in the small hallway. "Lieutenant, alert the sailing master that we will 'ave an unexpected voyage to--" she turned around, to face him. "Almso."

She walked out of the small hallway and onto the deck, looking out at her hardworking crew. Edgar was an example. An example of the possibilities the book itself could be. The book with its unfamiliar aura. The book was still in her hands, its evil aura and power practically oozing out of its spine and pages. Clearing her throat, she shouted out, "My crew! Lately we 'ave 'ad some unexpected turn of events... Gillian! Is the ship repaired perfectly?"

The pirate named Gillian looked up at the captain, and nodded. "Aye, Captain! The ship is ready to sail!"

Celeste nodded. "Aye. We shall set sail on the seas on a very urgent matter--" she held up the book. "To discover what this... whatever this is." The crew nodded, staring at the book. Although she didn't exactly believe in the book's powers, she still wants to find out its origins--for Edgar's sake. She may be a cold, ruthless pirate, but she still cares about her crew, and would fight for them until her dying breath.

"Alas, the pirate Lazy Eye may be venturing the seas as well. My crew, make sure you don't get too close--'is breath and 'ygiene may be the cause of your painful death." A couple of sneers echoed from the crew, while Celeste stared out at them. "Well? Get to work!"

"Aye aye, Captain!"

Mood: Curious || Interacting with: Shireling Shireling || Mentioned: N/A


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[IMG='width:1226px;']https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ea/53/6d/ea536dbdb921bd9a4204bddb14093305.jpg[/IMG]
The young thief sighed in relief when the young girl managed to keep silent for his sake. He looked around the room. When the guards come in, maybe he could jump out the window again? He did leave the window open, after all. It would be a plan B. "Sorry kid, I'll get out of your hair in a few--"

That's when the girl's father burst in the room, and Alveis stared at him, a bit nervous.

"Lydia, I heard a..." The townsman's eyes grew wide at the sight of a strange boy in his daughter's room. He reached for a fire-stoker that was nearby, and waved it at Alveis. The boy backed up, trying to get away from the man waving the weapon around. The father shouted, "Have at you!" Alveis swallowed, and heard s bunch of guards breaking down the man's door down, and started to flood the house, searching for the thief who had slipped away. The young girl's lip quivered, and started to scream as loud as she could, waking up the whole neighborhood from their slumber.

The man with the metal fire-stoker was still waving at Alveis, who kept stepping back towards the wall with the window. When he was pushed against the wall, he barely managed to slip away from the fire-stoker. He quickly turned his his body when the weapon was waved at him. He didn't get severely injured, but his cheek was grazed deeply. He winced, blood dripping down his cheek. The guards were getting closer, so he had to act fast.

Alveis immediately kicked the father's crotch, and grabbed the long curtains tied at the top of the window. Forming a rope, he jumped out of the window, and started to use the curtains as a short rope, using his legs to walk on the wall. He heard profanities ringing above him, and so, he grinned. He stuck his tongue out, and jumped down on the ground, his cut causing a wave of pain on his cheek. He rolled down on the ground, bruising his chest and elbows, before jumping back up on his feet.

He chuckled, before shouting out, "Should've kept some guards out here! You guys ain't smart at all, are you!?"

He darted out of the alleyway, the pain in his chest (due to his large bruise) and his knees (scrapes from falling down) caused him to linger a bit. However, the thought of the guards following him kept him in reality, and started to pick up the pace. He quickly shuffled past bystanders on the roads, pushing women and men out of the way. They shouted profanities at him, but Alveis paid no attention. He had to survive. He had to, for his siblings. How else would they survive? They can't go back in that hell hole of an orphanage. Never.

All he needed to do was survive.

Mood: Nervous, Cheeky. || Interacting With: Shireling Shireling || Mentioned: N/A
 
Sebastian stared at the hill his sappers say could lead to an ancient catacombs. Balacci must know of it's existence, the castle was on top of it after all. But the real question was whether they expected him to know of the catacombs or not. "I will give them one more day. Should Balacci not be handed over, we will dig in. Try doing so discreetly, at night, without torches. Not until you are certain that you will not be seen. Inform me once you have broken through."

Starving them out was a much safer option. But who knew how long that could take? Potentially months could pass before they starved. And he was fairly certain the Senate did not want this to take months. "Inform Captain August of these catacombs, and pray for forgiveness from the dead whose rest we are about to disturb."
 
Godwin sighed. "No, I'm afraid I don't know where I'll be stationed. With the way events are unfolding, I don't know if I'll spend the next few months hunting bandits or, if the current situation with Ironhold deteriorates, charging Ironhold battalions." Godwin handed out the animal skins he had to the men who requested the wine. "I do hope that Hopkin is alright as well, William. Hopefully the couriers carrying news of his expedition got lost on the way back." After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his throat. "Well, feel free to introduce yourself and talk with the men, William. I'll be talking with my own men, if you have need of me." Godwin then walked over to the area of the tents where his men had camped out.

Godwin took a seat on a crate nearby his men, putting his hands on his face and sighing, after which he formed his hands in a typical prayer gesture and silently prayed to himself, for the safety of his brothers and his mother back home. After completing his prayer, he remained silent for a few more seconds, eyes closed, thinking, before being interrupted. "Something the matter, Captain?" Godwin looked up to face the man. "Ah, it's nothing to worry about, soldier, just concerned about... something" "As you say, Captain. Perhaps a drink shall settle those concerns? Shall I get you anything?" "Just a mead, thank you."
 
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Harold Solene 'the bastard of' DeRamure.
THE COURT OF KING MONTAIGNE, CLERMOT CASTLE

Shireling Shireling

"Tournaments are as much about power and grace as they are about swiftness. I suspect you'd do well with your 'Picadore', your highness." Harold waits for the prince and his companion to finish their back and forth with one another, taking a large mouthful of wine and savouring the taste to pass the time. He swallows his mouthful when being addressed once more and leans back in his seat. He drapes an arm over the back of his chair and leans in with half his body. As Eduardo speaks of his plans to marry the young princess, Harold nods and shows his investment in the conversation by adding in an obligatory "Of course" when he mentions a few years passing before they wed. He smiles at the idea of his exploits being the talk of royalty in nations other than Clerimont but quickly sours as the talk turns to his recent higher calling. His wide small turns into a more relaxed expression and his lips pursue for a second so that he might wet them with his tongue. "Of course, of course."

He raises his goblet once more and takes a slow sip from it, collecting his thoughts and considering what he could say without sharing too much. He sets the goblet on the table and runs his finger along the brim of it, leaning back in his seat and straightening his posture. "Unlike the other crusades which sadly failed to see us retake what is ours by heavenly decree, my proposal comes from the heavens themselves. I'm certain when my part in this is done that God above will choose another to lead his cause or tell me what more he commands but as of now I know what must be done." He snaps his fingers, flicking his eyes to a servant girl passing them by and gestures for her to refill his wine and waves down another to provide him with a small bread roll. "In truth, this crusade is little more than divine calling turned into a political waiting game. Though the church is yet to give me their blessing I have volunteers from all over who have already pledged their loyalty to this cause, and I'm gaining the support of nobility who are God fearing as all should be." He tears a chunk of the bread off from the rest of the roll and places it in his mouth before cracking a smile and swallowing. "It makes you wonder what would happen if those who were chosen to hunt dragons and all manner of beasts had to wait on the church like we do today. Not that I'm complaining. But, would they still roam the skies?"
 
ROAD NORTH OF DUBURQA
As sword and torch found purchase in the half-solid, half-spectral form of the attacking spirit, the ghost before Pasha's eyes dissipated into a fine mist. The intense fray was shifting sand and kicking grit up into the air that was beginning to obscure the already poor vision, but judging from what he could tell, Pasha's men were winning. A minute or two more, and the onslaught was over seemingly just as fast as it had begun. The spectral attackers had vanished in waves of mist blown like sand over the dunes, and the soldier who had dropped from apparent possession was now recovered to his senses. The men were electrified and, it seemed, lucky to have no fatalities, only a few injuries caused by the ghosts' immaterial weaponry.

Before them, though, was a cave opening at the foot of the impressive dune which they had spotted hours earlier. A dim light burned from somewhere inside the cave, which was held together by some feat of magic as the walls and ceilings were made entirely of loose sand.

Heyitsjiwon Heyitsjiwon

SEAS SOUTH OF CALIPH DEL SOL
Celeste's ship was quick, highly agile, but the sailors that Uthman had at his disposal were much better at navigating the waters near their homeland and were considerably more disciplined than even seasoned pirates. Two days after their decision to sail for Almso, a ship appeared on the horizon keeping a course behind them with the wind. As the hours passed, the distance began to close. The ship was a Sarazin-styled war galley, with two decks of oarsmen, a partially-closed topdeck, and three masts. It likely held a sizable compliment of marines, and it flew the Caliph's flag.

Celeste was approached again in her quarters. Her crew wanted to know whether they intended to fight or flee, with many of the crewmen being quite frightened at the prospect of fighting an actual navy. Still others cautioned that it might be a routine patrol and they might pass as a merchantman. They looked to her for input.

A similar conference was occurring on Uthman's ship, the Al-Kutz. The captain of the ship assured him that they were gaining on their quarry and wanted to know if he intended to attempt a boarding action first or a fusillade with the galley's guns beforehand. Knowing the cargo the ship was carrying to be valuable, the captain thought bombarding the ship would be riskier than simply speeding up to her and taking her by force.

Nyq Nyq Emmi Emmi

(Coming this evening: Solabella Castle Siege and Clerimont Banquet Scene).
 
Uthman Fillipa
Rebel Caliph del Sol


A heated discussion went on within the captain's room. The captain of the Al-Kutz argued with several of Uthman's men on the issue of whether or not to bombard the enemy ship first, with Uthman's men passionately arguing for the fusillade to be done. Uthman simply watched in silence as they bickered, contemplating on the pros and cons of each course of action. On one hand, launching a fusillade might make the subsequent boarding easier, but the artifact within might be damaged in the process, and that should not happen at all costs. However, just straight up boarding the enemy ship might lead to heavy casualties, and that is not something Uthman wants either. But the faith has to take the priority, and Uthman spoke.

"All of you, silence. I have decided."

Both sides of the argument stopped and turned to look at Uthman.

"We'll board their ship. Have the archers line up behind the infantry and fire a few salvos when we get in range, but no guns. The artifact must not be damaged in any way."

The crew nodded and went out to execute Uthman's orders, leaving the man alone to pray for the success of their mission.
 
THE COURT OF KING MONTAIGNE
Eduardo heard all of this with keen attention and nodded. "While the nobility in Albion and the Oldenreich mostly have injured pride from the last crusade and desire not to pursue another one for a great deal of time, the nobility in Espada is concerned that the growing influence of the Sultanate will exasperate the problems that we have in the south with the rebel 'caliphate'. I personally agree that something must be done."

There was a brief pause for Eduardo to take a draught of wine, and then he continued, "To this end, I hope very much that you perform well in the tournament. The winner of the event is supposed to have a private audience with His Majesty, and he is one with such a sentimental and honorable heart, you could likely convince him to your design if you could but catch his ear. But come, let us talk of other things. It is a feast, after all, and while politics is an interesting diversion it is not what one would call light-hearted."

Thus they talked of other things, of playwrights and muses, wizards, dragons, and olden stories. Eduardo, much like Harold, proved to have a romantic and idealistic streak about him. When they departed for the evening, they seemed to be fast friends.

The tournament was to begin tomorrow, and the entirety of the castle arose early the next morning for service and the administration of the sacraments. When this had been completed, a small army of servants threw up an elaborate set of tents - one for each competing knight - and provided all with good, sturdy, blunted lances that were to be used, all identical in the interest of fairness. As Harold readied himself for competition, Eduardo again found his way to the tent. This time, he was clad in his typical black-stained steel plate. The visor of his closed helm was flipped up, and his spurs jangled with every step. He clapped his gauntleted hand on Harold's shoulder and smiled.

"I am to go next." He chuckled. "Pray God, I am not unhorsed. The sting to my pride will only be rivaled by the sting in my ass."

Crumbli Crumbli
 

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