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Post by cassiusexgladio on May 25, 2017 1:08:26 GMT
The people of the City called it the Black Palace. It was a fairly descriptive name, as names go. The Ruler had ordered its construction 200 years prior and over a period of 30 years, special black stone from the North was shipped in to build it. It was not as ornate as the pleasure palaces of the western kingdoms across the Great Sea nor was it as drab and utilitarian as the great structures of the lords of the Northern Marches. It was, above all things, functional with its own special aesthetic.
In some of the larger chambers, appointed bureaucrats saw petitions. Citizens, both high and low born, came forward with grievances and requests. Some, along with visiting dignitaries, would stay in the many furnished rooms in the Palace with their entourages. Far below them in the damp gloom and dark of the dungeons, an unlucky few languished in abject despair or madness. The Black Palace's western section possessed the barracks which housed the Ruler's private retinue - no simple city guards here. A large black tower in this area housed the Ruler's Chosen - men and women sworn to the Ruler who would carry out his will and her? requests. It was self-contained - the tower was furnished with a small kitchen, a dining room, an armory, and bedrooms. Most of these, however, remained empty as most of the Chosen were out and about, carrying out the Ruler's wishes and administering justice on his (or her) behalf.
But enough of this.
Let us instead direct our attention to a small luxuriously adorned antechamber within the Palace. A table has been set and covered with fine food - stews, roasts, fruits, and expensive wines, among other fine vittles. Two servants stood at the head of the table, flanking a dark haired man who sat there. A number of other seats, further down the table and towards the entrance, remained empty.
"Bid them to come in" the Bloodknight asked. "I have a task for them."
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Post by Poopmok on May 25, 2017 23:48:44 GMT
At the heart of the greatest Empire ever to grace the world (at least after the apocalypse), a man from the frozen tundras of the North entered into the antechamber, the earliest to arrive, as usual. Despite the much more sunny weather of these lands, his skin still had the pale color much more common in his own lands.
The man wore clothing completely out of fashion in the wealthy capitol, like a very old-fashioned version of what you might see mages wear in these lands. He was dressed in animal skins, magical insignias and symbols were tattooed all over his body, marking him as a shaman among the human tribes still prevalent in the North.
Leonid, as his name was known in the language of this Empire, became known to the Ruler years ago when he was exiled from his homelands after being accused of supporting a tribal rebellion that occurred at the time. He left as soon as possible, knowing he might never see his people ever again, but he had no choice. Now he was among the Chosen, and he gave his full loyalty to the Ruler, the only one willing to give him a second chance.
The shaman sat at one of the chairs, eying the empty room. He spoke the common tongue here very well, but still had quite a distinct Northern accent to his speech. "Ah, you've been keeping me pent up in this stone-house for quite too long," he said as way of greeting, pouring himself some wine in the meantime.
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Post by Nyanunix on May 25, 2017 23:59:35 GMT
A woman slipped in. She made no noise, but didn't appear to be going out of her way to be silent or sneaky. This woman seated herself and chose her own wine, though she did not greet anyone yet.
It was difficult to say if she was attractive or not. She was not memorable in any way, by design. Her hair was medium brown, relatively straight, and cut short, in a shaggy sort of pixie cut. Her eyes were brown-green; her skin was the color of coffee, after a good bit of milk had been added. Her mouth was slightly too wide and very full, but it was not out of place with the rest of her face. She seemed very small and fragile, but also catlike; her relaxed posture and inattentive expression was certainly masking something.
Her name was Orison.
It was difficult to say where she had come from, or what her last name was, or where she went when she was not called upon. It was difficult to say if she had friends or family. It was difficult to get answers from her that you didn't absolutely need, and she disliked being pressed for information.
Orison pulled her legs up into the chair to sit cross-legged, and looked at her companions, expression disinterested. She did not speak.
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Post by cassiusexgladio on May 26, 2017 0:22:06 GMT
The Bloodknight acknowledged both arrivals with the barest hint of a nod. "That will soon change." he replied to Leonid. His voice was not particularly deep nor high but was heavily laden with gravitas - when this man spoke, people tended to listen. He made no move towards his food. This was not unusual - neither wine nor bread had passed betwixt his lips in sight of others for nigh on 60 years. The rumors suggested that the Bloodknight didn't need to eat while other, darker ones, suggested that he was part beast and fed off the flesh of human prisoners in the dungeons. Neither was true - though perhaps the latter was a little closer to the truth than the former. But, ah, how I digress! A tale for another time.
After a suitable pause, the Bloodknight continued. "The Duchy of Arnavale lies towards the northeast. The Duke calls for aid. He claims that the bestial tribes in the region have become organized behind a leader known as The Red Horned One. There have been some attacks on villages - the citizens were massacred and the garrisons overwhelmed. The level of organization that the bestial tribes have adopted is disconcerting to say the least. The Ruler has not had active agents in the area for a number of years so it is long overdue that we pay a visit. Head to Arnavale, speak to the Duke, and investigate. Await further instructions after that. The Quartermaster will give you both lode stones so you may report back immediately despite the distance."
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Post by Poopmok on May 26, 2017 0:42:55 GMT
Leonid didn't gain the attention of the Ruler by being an exile, however. He practiced particular forms of magic that were considered... Valuable by the Ruler, if you could said that.
"Arnavale? Agh, all those dukes are useless if you ask me," he retorted, instantly downing the wine he had poured himself earlier.
Bestial tribes were a particular area of interest in to him, since up in the North they seemed to be much better friends with them then they were down here. Leonid didn't seem to pay much attention to Orison, since she didn't seem to talk to anybody.
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Gressy
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Post by Gressy on May 26, 2017 1:08:01 GMT
The gentleman, if he could be called that, arrived late and with all the discretion of a hurricane. He was not a small man. Muscle rippled over his frame as he moved, that of it which could be seen under his billowing white shirt and tailored silken pants. The sword at his side was large and the greatsword at his back was even larger.
He stumbled into his seat, smiling with the amiable nature of a man always looking for a fight and never looking out for a loss. Several chipped teeth glittered in his nevertheless pearly smile, and his the scars on light brown skin moved as he did.
Despite the markers of a life of conflict, he was still quite handsome. His hair, long and luxurious and dark, tumbled over his shoulder and his face was what a non-sculptor might call chiseled and a sculptor might call "excessive".
"Sorry I'm late, fellows, fair lady," he rumbled, already eyeing the spread of food hungrily. "You know how hard it is to get out of bed after a long day of training with the troops, I'm sure."
He'd once been a Ruler's bodyguard. He'd once been many things. Now he was just Mateo, a very fine swordsman and a living man despite many efforts otherwise. And throughout it all, he'd still kept his hair absolutely silky. How did he do it?
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Post by cassiusexgladio on May 26, 2017 1:19:19 GMT
The Bloodknight stood. "You are late. I have business and will not take the time to explain your task to you. That task falls to your comrades." He paused before the door. "After you are done with your meal, report to the quartermaster. Leave today."
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Post by Nyanunix on May 26, 2017 1:24:22 GMT
Orison's expression had not changed this entire time. She had the appearance of absolute disinterest, but it was too studied; too perfectly uncaring. She was, in reality, very, very interested. Finally, she spoke, but not to anyone who had already been there. "The sun rose long ago," she said, to the man who was walked in. "You have no excuse." Her was of speaking seemed slightly odd, but it was difficult to explain why. She didn't seem to have any sort of accent not native to the city, but it was as if she normally spoke another language and didn't often practice the common tongue.
"We will go to Arnavale and see into organized attacks against the villages," she continued. As she spoke more, it seemed less odd. Her voice was not unpleasant, but, like the rest of her, seemed entirely inconspicuous.
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Post by Poopmok on May 26, 2017 1:31:29 GMT
"By the Gods, pretty boy finally decided to show up. Greetings!" Since Orison handled most of the mission prep, Leo decided to drink some more wine, content with his lot.
He nodded back to the Knight, who was never one you'd share a drink with. Oh well, it's not like they had to work with him on missions or anything.
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Post by grasssea on May 26, 2017 1:34:45 GMT
Mateo, for his part, was not discouraged in the least. He finished chewing, swallowed and grinned at Orison. "Night patrol, my dear. You know how it is, I'm sure. Sounds like a jolly good assignment then. Shall we go now or do you want to eat more? The meat is excellent. The Knight always puts on a good shows when it comes to the bloody stuff." Miraculously, he seemed to have finished his whole plate already, and was now pointing out dishes for Orison helpfully. His accent, such as it was, was distinctly common. More than that, it was commonplace. He was, to all appearances, a moderately literate and slightly prettier than average farmboy in silk who someone had decided to give a weapon or seven.
He turned to Leo, happily. "Ah, hello old chap!"
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Post by Nyanunix on May 26, 2017 1:45:37 GMT
Orison tilted her head slightly to the side. She already had food, on her plate; she just hadn't drawn attention to it, and now she ate slowly, listening. She was a little overwhelmed by this large, talkative man
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Post by Poopmok on May 26, 2017 2:01:43 GMT
Leonid also had unneccessarily long hair, along with a beard, although that was from lack of maintenance, not the black magic Mateo had. The two of them seemed to get along surprisingly well despite their totally different backrounds, although it was probably due to the fact that they were the only ones that could really appreciate nice hair.
"After this /little/ meal, I'll get my possessions in order. We'll be against beasts, so be prepared," he offered some general advice, since he really didn't know what else to add.
This little trip would also be a nice way to show off his skills, it felt like it'd been forever since he was sent on a real proper mission.
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Post by grasssea on May 26, 2017 2:44:30 GMT
"Of course, of course," Mateo said. "They'll be no match for the three of us, I'm sure. Just the other week I took this powder of bear testicles and salt, so now I have all the power and strength of a bear inside me." He beamed "What about our lovely new friend, what does she bring to the table?"
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Post by Poopmok on May 26, 2017 2:55:49 GMT
"Agh, these farmboys and their little charms. Everybody knows its bear testicle, bear dung and /then/ salt." Leo studied under the best, or so he always likes to say.
Truthfully, Leo had worked with Mateo for a long time, but didn't know what Orison could bring to the table. He knew he probably shouldn't mess with her, those quiet types are always a bit crazy (even for his standards).
"Truthfully, I have no idea what she knows how to do," he said, as if she wasn't even in the room. "Although the Ruler didn't bring her in with us for no reason, I reckon."
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Post by Nyanunix on May 26, 2017 13:01:27 GMT
Orison's expression shifted, almost unnoticeably, toward anger. "I am sitting right here," she snapped at Leo. "I do not know what sorts of women you are used to, that you do not address them directly when you have a question, or that you attempt to speak for despite your lack of knowledge regarding the answer, but I will not hold with this disrespect." Just as quickly as she had become upset, Orison's face returned to complete disinterest.
"We are understood?" she asked, but it was not a question that required an answer. "I am Orison. I once was a thief, but have now applied by skills to other trades, that include spying and assassinating. Caught in combat as you must be used to, I can come behind an enemy and stab him from behind while he is occupied. I can make a number of poisons and am learned in a number of weapons."
That seemed to be as much as Orison was willing to say about herself; she settled back into a more comfortable position and began to pick at her food.
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