|
Post by grasssea on Jun 4, 2017 3:34:22 GMT
Sacrifices had to be made. Mateo caught up with her quickly, slouched so his bulk wasn't quite as overwhelming, and shook back his hair. "No my lords needed, we're common folk. Common as muck, just very lucky in life. So, your lady plotted to overthrow her husband! That must have been an exciting turn up. Lots of dither and hither about that, hey?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Nyanunix on Jun 4, 2017 18:17:12 GMT
Orison walked on the other side of the servant girl. Her own tiny stature was sure to be nonthreatening. "Sounds like a very interesting tale," she added.
|
|
|
|
Post by Poopmok on Jun 5, 2017 22:50:16 GMT
Leo kept up his pace next to Mateo, annoyed that they might have to deal with some local civil war now on top of the beast attacks.
"A Duke who can't keep control over his own wife? No /wonder/ there's an uprising among the beast tribes," he retorted, already thinking quite lowly of this Duke.
|
|
|
|
Post by cassiusexgladio on Jun 9, 2017 14:59:36 GMT
"There is little of interest." The servant girl said carefully. Her eyes flitted upwards to Orison as she spoke and just as swiftly lowered. "The Duchess and the Duke had a complicated relationship, but here is not the place to speak of it." She stopped speaking as they passed a single guard standing by a door that led up into the Duke's tower.
"I leave you here. If there is anything you need, you may find me in the kitchens. Or in the stables. Or attending upon the Duchess in her quarters. Just ask for Harra." She curtsied and went on her way.
A winding and narrow staircase, each step high enough for one's knees to complain a tad when ascending but not so high as to be painful, greeted the Chosen. Up and up it went, spiralling around the interior of the tower, flickering torches at irregular intervals providing the only source of light.
At the top was the Duke's chambers, a heavy wooden door inscribed with the arms of his house - a bird of prey of some kind clutching a spear. There yet another guard stood. He announced the Chosen and opened the door. It moved with a painful metallic groan - the hinges, like many other things in the castle, had not been maintained for some time.
The Duke's chambers were opulent and in a state of great disarray. Carpets covered every available inch of stone, stacks of books lay piled haphazardly, some looked as if they had been thrown. Dusty curtains covered all the windows but daylight slithered in through the occasional gap. Most of the lighting came from the hearth which was blazing with the heat of a large mid-winter fire. With the height of summer already here, the room, needless to say, was uncomfortably warm.
An ornate bed, blanketed in pillows and soft sheets, sat towards the rear of the room in the middle of a puddle of shadow created by a large bookshelf. A figure sat in the center, shrouded by blankets. "Who are these?" the Duke wheezed. "What do you want?"
|
|
|
|
Post by grasssea on Jun 10, 2017 16:53:20 GMT
Mateo looked around desperately for their credentials to present to the prone Duke. He wasn't the paperwork man, paper confused him. Other people usually took that job.
"We come from the Ruler, may he reign for another millenia! You have some monsters attacking your people, and we have authorization to put a stop to them. I say, you look terrible. I might have a draught for that."
Being back north, he knows some of the herbs, can remember the ones he was taught to use for strength and health a young man. It's an oddly reassuring thing to know he can make his own tonics now, instead of relying on shady herbalists.
|
|
|
|
Post by Poopmok on Jun 10, 2017 18:18:34 GMT
Leo stepped into the Duke's quarters, surprised that the Duke was the reading sort. Since Orison was new and Mateo usually gave this duty to him, he produced the Royal scroll that proclaimed them as Chosen, with most of the writing on it being absolute hogwash to him, besides the Ruler's seal.
Since there was nobody else in the room, Leo approached the Duke and offered him the scroll. "I am with the knight," he said to the Duke as way of greeting, his tone dry from hours on horseback that day.
|
|
|
|
Post by cassiusexgladio on Jun 19, 2017 13:14:19 GMT
"ץ๏ย ђคשє คยՇђ๏гเչคՇเ๏ภ?" the Duke rasped. His voice was dry and scaly and sounded somewhat akin to a snake sliding over parchment. Yellowed bloodshot eyes focused in on Mateo and then the other Chosen, assessing each of them in turn. They were quite curiously awake when compared to a man who seemed to be deeply ill.
The fire crackled and popped as it pushed waves of stifling heat into the room. "เ кภ๏ฬ ฬђ๏ รєภՇ ץ๏ย" The Duke croaked. "เ кภ๏ฬ ฬђץ ץ๏ย ђคשє ς๏๓є. ץ๏ย ђคשє ς๏๓є..." a series of rattling coughs clawed their way out of his lungs and he bucked and shivered for a good many seconds. The lone guard at the door ran over with a ladle of water which he unsteadily poured into the Duke's mouth, most if it splashing on the blanket and on the Duke's nightwear. "ץ๏ย ђคשє ς๏๓є...." the Duke wheezed. "Շ๏ ђєɭק ๓є. ץ๏ย ๓ยรՇ ђєɭק ๓є. เ ђคשє....๓คภץ Շครкร Ŧ๏г ץ๏ย."
|
|
|
|
Post by Poopmok on Jun 30, 2017 15:04:07 GMT
The shaman was somewhat startled by the Duke's response, he knew the man was ill, but whatever ailment the Duke had made him sound like he was on the verge of death.
"What... Tasks do you speak of?" Watching the man fail at drinking only made him look even more senile.
|
|
|
|
Post by cassiusexgladio on Jun 30, 2017 19:30:40 GMT
"K-kill the Red Horned one." The Duke gained some strength back into his voice. "You must stop him. He comes for me."
|
|
|
|
Post by Poopmok on Jun 30, 2017 22:14:05 GMT
"Red-Horned one you say? We'll handle it, as we usually do," he stated to the Duke, offering no more sign of respect other than a nod of his head.
If it wasn't obvious enough that what they were dealing with wasn't the average forest creature, this certainly sealed it for him.
|
|
|
|
Post by cassiusexgladio on Jul 1, 2017 13:15:53 GMT
"Good....good" the Duke croaked. "Now begone!"
The Chosen were ushered out of the Duke's chambers by one of the guards, the heavy wooden door slammed behind them. A latch snicked into place.
As they left the tower, they encountered a servant girl, no more than 9 years of age. She had badly cut short brown hair and a dun(?) smock that was heavily stained. She issued a clumsy curtsy.
"M'luds, M'lady. I come with a message from the Captain. He says he has met with ye before, at a tavern on the road. He wishes to speak with ye!" She squeaked.
|
|
|
|
Post by Poopmok on Jul 1, 2017 19:25:48 GMT
"Ah, the captain? At least there's somebody here that isn't dull witted," he said to the serving girl, glad that this captain might be willing to help them in their little journey.
"Lead us to him, will you?" He asked the server once again, ready to finally start hunting the beast soon.
|
|
|
|
Post by cassiusexgladio on Jul 27, 2017 3:51:22 GMT
The sandy haired captain sat atop a heavy wooden barrel in one of the anterior courtyards of Arnavale Castle. The sackcloth and straw target dummies, resembling hedgehogs with the many bristling arrows buried into them, and the wooden sparring stands suggested that this area was used for training.
There were a few soldiers present - most clad in the steel and red capes of the Imperial garrison although some wore the colors of the Duke's personal guard. Some were sparring, others cleaning their armor and weapons.
The captain smiled as he saw the Chosen approach. "I heard ye lot had come to Arnavale. Come come, I have things to say with ye, regarding your assignment. I trust ye have met with the Duke?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Poopmok on Jul 27, 2017 18:15:10 GMT
(Leonid transformation lmao)
Back in the Morovid, especially during the cold months when the river froze and the tribe had to seek out lands to winter in, shamans are what protect and keep the tribe in the Goddess' favor during these harsh times, among other duties.
The longsword strapped to Leonid's back was emblazoned with runes of his own design, as much a part of him as his own mana supply. The sword hardly ever left his sight, and is still his most prized possession he brought from the North.
"We met with the old man, at the empty castle," he stated, glad that the captain seemed to be sane at least.
"What's the explanation for all that? I've never seen a castle that barren, not with the damned ruling lord inside of it especialy."
|
|
|
|
Post by cassiusexgladio on Jul 27, 2017 19:01:48 GMT
"Castles tend to resemble their lord. There's not much left of the Duke, not anymore. His fire burned too hot, too fast, and left him charred and empty inside. He became obsessed with the Red Horned one - why I know not. In the early days he rode out into the field with his men, searching, hunting. But it was no use. Wherever he was, the Red Horned one was not. He knew our movements, struck wherever we were weak."
"One night, his party was ambushed. Most of his private guard was slain, somehow. Strange magick" He explained. "The Duke was the only survivor but he emerged...addled. Shortly after he imprisoned his wife and then took up residence in the tower. Huddled under the blankets, wasting away." Caerholm sighed. "Most of the running of court, what's left of it, is done by the Seneschal now. Lord Garant, the Legion Commander, currently presides over the campaign. And it IS a campaign, I don't care what anyone else says. This is no raiding done by semiliterate beasts. They are using tactics and strategy that we usually associate with our most cunning foes."
|
|
|