Osmund shook quietly. He sat in his tent, gently holding onto his knees, awaiting for the order to charge against the Harhold army. He was one of the many men who had been conscripted into Lord Tyrannian’s military as a result of Harhold’s declaration that the Veer would be turned into a penal colony. Even the thought of such a thing terrified him.
Osmund was a young, Anglian man of around seventeen years of age. He worked on his father’s wheat farm, and largely kept himself to himself. The only thing Osmund really knew how to wield effectively was a tiller, and that could hardly be used to kill a man. He was sweet on a girl in the village, but that all seemed far away now. Everything now was mud, blood, and sweat. He knew his friends...
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Milo let out a choked sob,his tears staining the worn oak floorboards. His eyes were glazed over in fear and his body was shaking like a leaf in a storm. In his panicked state Milo hadn't noticed another figure push aside the curtian he used as a makeshift door or heard them walk over to him. Crouching down in front of them the figure said
"Milo I'm going to need you to calm down buddy." The boy whimpered and tried to push himself further away from him, fists grasping at air in a futile attempt to keep whoever it was at bay.
"Milo it's me,Anthony. Come on I need you to listen to me bud." Anthony said,his strong hands gripping the youngers shoulder,causing him to freak even more.
"No touch no touch no touch! Gerroff Ant,gerroff no...
-//////////////////////////////////////-
The following would be common knowledge by most, if not all sailors and pirates that roamed Alorian waters. The story of Captain Kyrk.
-//////////////////////////////////////-
289 AC
Sunlight. It shined through the wooden ports that laid themselves symmetrically along the sides of the vessel as the sea brought a rhythmic sequence of rocks and throws of the wooden frigate. Soon enough, thumps of hardened leather boots could be heard crashing down upon the creaking stairs that led to the Captain’s quarters where an aging man sat, scribbling down notes in what seemed to be a worn, almost yellowing, leather-bound book of some kind. Soon the wild thumps of the crewman stopped as they gazed upon...
Elyon knew she had to pick, and as months turned in to years, her childhood had suddenly run out. Here she was, as a fully grown adult. There was no more title to hide behind, there was no more excuses for her to not choose. She could be happy in either world; Altalar or Ailor. She had friends and family in each one, each as special as the other. There was Cyrus, brilliant and powerful. He was able to do anything in her eyes, and he could probably be considered another father figure in her life, although Aurelius took that role quite seriously. He was the one who took her from street rat to a respected commander, all while giving her love and cherishing her the only way a father could. He knew some of the most intimate things about her...
Pulling out a piece of paper,Milo grabbed a stick of charcoal and began to write.
*Often I am upset that I cannot fall in love but I guess,this avoids the stress of falling out of it.* Grinning he continued,a feeling of what one could call control,another may call power,washing over him.
*Are you tired of me yet? I'm a little sick right now but I swear when i'm ready I will fly us out of here. I'll cut my hair. To make you stare. I'll hide my chest and I'll figure out a way to get us out of here.* He began to hum to himself as he wrote,fingers drumming on the desk.
*Turn off your porcelain face,I can't really think right now in this place. There's too many colors,enough to drive all of us insane.Are you dead? Sometimes I think I'm dead...
The thud if Milo's knees hitting the dirt echoed throughout the silent field,tears blurring the boys vision until the writing in the stone was barley legible.
"I only got you in my stories and you know I tell them right. I remember you and I, when I'm awake at night." He began to sing,voice cracking as he lay a hand atop the freshly dug soil.
"So give it up for fallen glory. I never got to say goodbye. I wish I could ask for just a bit more time.
Every step I take, you used to lead the way, now I'm terrified to face it on my own." He ran his other hand through his hair in a weak attempt to brush it from his eyes like Ash would do when it fell into his face from giggling or messing around with her.
"You're not there to celebrate the man...
"Did I say something stupid?" Milo's voice rang out loud and clear in the empty room,or what he thought was.
"There goes one more mistake.Do I bore you with my problems? Is that why you turn away?" He smiled to himself as he leaned back to rest his head against a wooden pillar.
"Do you know how hard I tried to become what you want me to be? This is all that I've got, this is all that I'm not. All that I'll ever be." As he paused for a moment to wipe some hair from his eyes Milo heard another voice begin to sing,just as clear as his own.
"I've got flaws,I've got faults,keep searching for your perfect heart. It doesn't matter who you are." He didn't look behind him to check who it was,for he knew exactly from the voice so when the end of...
His hair was clinging weakly to his forehead,teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to ignore everyone and everything around him. He didn't need this right now,not at all. Letting his hands move upwards to wrap themselves around his knees Milo slackened his jaw and began to sing.
"I'm going under and I fear this time there's no one to save me.
This is all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy." He choked out,the words slowly taking over him and comforting the child much like a mother would do their newborn.
"I need somebody to heal,somebody to know,somebody to have,somebody to hold." His voice was now smoother and his eyes no longer squeezed shut,just closed in a gentle way.
"It's easy to say but it's never the...
Engulfed
Chaotic, Self-Destructive, Unpredictable
Slumping in his seat, his head falling off to the side as the night sky fell through the windows the barking of voices were so distant to the trainee as he fell into slumber. His body shut down, the rising tensions with Regalia were overbearing for the young man and taking his watch was a thing of the past. Surely the troops of the devilish Unionist’s couldn’t make their way so quickly, at least that is what the Great Oak knights of the Modig thought. Pictures of the night swept through the young boy's mind of priests raising smoke over the horizon, filling the skyline, smoke spilling from their Unionist-eye pendants. Flickering, one after another in rapid-fire, these pictures were...
The rain pattered on the moors and forests just beyond the Emperor's holy keep, the light rumble of thunder echoing across the heavens. Cold. Unyielding. It had been a week since the death of Aemolius. He had been drowned by his brother. He was a corpse now, that Returned Revenant. His luck had run out, save for the scars he would leave his dreaded brother. Or so he thought. Under the soil where his loyal servants followed him, he sturred. His body shifted in the box they placed him in, fit for a king. He breathed in deeply but no air came to his lungs. He was dying again perhaps. He roared and screamed, his fist quickly pummeling against the fine wood, splinters and soil slowly filling his coffin as he pushed through. He kept punching...
They would never come for her. Not now, nor ever. They had to have known she was the only one left in prison, and they chose to abandon her. They left her there, and left her with the consequences of their actions. She would have been executed along with a fake of their leader. She would have died for them, and Elyon doubts that they would have even cared. There would be celebrations, but not for her.
Elyon could say her life is better now, though, because they abandoned her. She has many luxuries that Elyon can't even name, and her master is as loving as she expected a father might be. She was happy in their care, yes, but there lay deep inside her a growing pit of rage. Three words repeated in her mind, pulling her farther from the...
“We are tied to the ocean.
And when we go back to the sea,
whether it is to sail or to watch -
we are going back from whence we came”
- John F. Kennedy
After a long day’s work of fighting within the recent Springtime Scrimmage Tourney, Damian Black stood about at the balcony of his family’s estate within the Holy City of Regalia. They were cut and bruised from the many fights that day, sadly only making it to the Semi-Finals for the Tourney. He was proud how far he got however, smiling as he’d close his eyes when the sun began to set set in front of him upon the balcony.
He’d open his eyes once more, standing about at the front of a might ship with his crew. The sea was open to his eyes as the sun was setting. The crew were busy at...
A character background piece for @Timisc and his armada!
Full Broadside
It was a dim, frigid morning and the seas were out of their usual character. Their waters were veiled by a cold, cloying fog, thick like pea soup - the final death throes of the last evening's sudden and furious rain squall. The pastel-blue breaking through the sky was edged by rusty gold, promising a magnificent sunrise within half of an hour. For now, however, the seas sat undisturbed.
An unnatural breath of air broke the wall of sun-cast mist, sending small eddies whirling off in many directions. The disturbance was heralded by the oily glow of a ship's lantern, then followed by a spread of bright white canvas sails. They thundered and billowed as they...
A cold morning at the Ulf-Bein Lodge, the occasional snowflakes from a cloudy but bright sky. The halls erupted in muffled cries and screams of men and women from the courtyard. Dagheidar strode forth in a nervous gait, seeking an old friend to comfort. As the courtyard was entered, it would be surrounded by her fellow classmates, some cheering pridefully. To the best of her abilities, Dagheidar shuffled through the taller, in order to peer towards the center. A man without his tunic would be restrained by a far stronger Velheimer from the Björntass Discipline from the neighboring Kløydalen Lodge.
Dagheidar, knowing full well what the man was doing, was confused about the context of why, before hearing her teacher overhead shouting...
She was in a stranger's home, living in a stranger's life. She had her own room, plenty of books to read, and meals when she had the need for it. The water was clean and her bed was made every morning. She owned a desk and a chair to match it, and a candle to light late at night with matches to boot. There was no weather that could breach the home's sturdy walls and there was no man who could breach through the warrior's halls. She was safe at last. What more could a child want?
When Elyon found out what they planned to do with the woman who took her in as her own, it took every ounce of her being to not cry. How could she stand by and let this happen? She had done nothing to deserve this life that the dragon had given her, Elyon had...
Pitter patter, pitter patter. Spring rain slapped and dribbled over the roof and ground outside, watering the freshly blooming and sprouting flora of the springtime. The sky was rosey with puffy clouds, which the wind pulled like warm taffy, stretching it across in spans of gray and gold.
That morning was a very special morning, indeed, for the little one, in the city of Ssil. She knew it. She had been counting down to it eagerly from day eleven, since that was the biggest number she knew. And it felt like forever.
A soft, excited whisper of Zcorr left a small halfling as she peeped between the tattered, linen curtains of her paper-thin home. She was waiting for her dear mother, who would come trudging around the corner any minute to...
There had been a problem with what Hie thought would happen. See? This is why she shouldn’t think. It only causes more problems. Julip wouldn’t take her blood. She spat it out and gurgled, so Hie had to slap her to fix the problem.
Hie had to fix the problem she caused. This time, she just acted. No thoughts, no heart, no mind or emotions clouding her judgement. She had to survive at any cost now. She had to, Estel had blessed her and willed her to.
Perhaps nobody would notice the small and fragile baby gone from its crib, but that didn’t seem to happen.
Hie ignored the shrieks. Who would care? She doubted any corpse would bring them comfort.
Julip took the child much better than Hie had hoped.
Oh, there goes the thinking part...
The group of pelted men stalked through the Regalian outbacks in silence, most of them unfamiliars to the only Peirgarten amongst the group, the rest were simply hired to call out various animals, some others were relative friends of the family. The snow was heavy as they marched further into the wilderness, white piles on their shoulders. The dogs they had were kept close to the keeper, sniffing the ground tightly as the trees folded over one another as a heavy wind struck, leaves upturning. One of the trackers ran back from within the trees, gesturing the group of hunters over as he explained in a monotone voice the herd of elk only a short distance away, his voice sounding hoarse considering the conditions. Hansen’s gaze traversed...
-=-
A soft gray haze expanded out over the deep blue depths of the eastern waters, crawling over the surface like a creeping mist out of some horror story. Obstructions protruded through the smoke, drifting along the surface of the sea amongst the various wreckage which littered the surrounding area, covered by the occasional shadow from towering sails above. As the mysterious fog of sorts began to dissipate with the heavy winds which swept along the strait, deep crimson became visible amongst the blue of the ocean. Lifeless corpses were seen floating, remains of poor souls sent to an early grave, nothing more than bait on a hook, and the Corsair Lord knew something was amiss. It had been too easy. There were no warships, no impending...
Hie'jja had never been a smooth talker, really. She was always just good at getting what she wanted. Well, at least recently. Trying to remember anything past her last meal was becoming a bit tough.
Perhaps it was because monsters don't think, and all she could think about was how she is a monster.
It really was unsettling to see her hand inch toward a dagger's hilt, taking and ripping souls just to live a few more days. She felt trapped, stuck in a cycle.
Often times she spent most of her sanity looking up at the stars, something she could say with confidence that she used to do often. It was while looking at these stars that she stumbled upon Julip.
It was only a short time until Julip was under ropes and locked up in a spare...
The setting was an afternoon in the dilapidated out-arena some while away from the city. The area looked old, the stonework was crumbling and much of the arena’s amenities were horribly broken. For those visiting, both the fighters and the spectators, there was little remarkable about the arena besides the fact that is was really big and had a good open pitch of grass and sand in the middle. There were very few people in the audience ((you may insert your character as a spectator if you like, and reply below)). A few nobles were present, a few commoners, and a troupe of Imperial assessors, Imperial Guards and courtiers, the usual crowd who does the assessments for Imperial Guard examinations. In the pitch was Tristan Kade, already...
»»————- ♔ ————-««
With a hand assisting her first step off of the long voyage from Ellador, the Phantasma gazed her glowing sight over the view of Regalia's dock for the very first time. The Isldar silks that graciously wrapped her form dragged along in soft ripples as the Guard at her side assisted her off the Ship's ramp and finally on Regalia's lands. She inhaled the warm air into her lungs, the frost elf taking in the un-familiar scent of the new shore in. With a soft breath she lowered her eyes, taking in the sounds of the city as the winds gently brushed against her snow-white strands of hair that fell in a perfectly straight line behind her shoulders. She took this moment of ease to familiarize herself, her peace interrupted...
Eyes fluttered open slowly, barely perceiving through the darkness of the loft.
Kasamir, for only a second, was confused to find himself not in the lonely cramped room he’d grown accustomed to. Then, as his mind began to wake in earnest, he became distinctly aware of the presence beside him: the unmistakable weight of another who lay in the bed and the feeling of their arm across his chest.
Turning, forest-green hues fell upon the woman who slumbered so peacefully. A smile broke upon his face as he regarded her, cherishing this rare moment in which she seemed so content and serene. Chuckling softly, he looked down at the arm draped over him. Though he must have turned in his sleep, it would seem she wasn’t going to let him stray too...
On the twentieth of March, the cathedral found itself in a bustle. Not a single hand idle as the sun began its descent in the sky, the rich blue exploding into every manner of pink, orange, and purple imaginable, blending together into something like that of a dream. Maeva Peirgarten lingered outside the doors of the edifice, her gaze fixated upon the sherbet hues overhead whilst she waited.
The weather was perfect for such an occasion, a light breeze that carried fresh, crisp air on its wings enough to ensure that there would be no uncomfortable fidgeting during the ceremony. The first day of Spring - a promise of new life and new beginnings of the season - her birthday, and her wedding day all wrapped in one blissful day...
“And the world fell away as they danced. But each of them thought of another as they moved.”
The sun was setting as she laid with half of her body slouched over the unread and unwritten letters. Not a very proper place to be resting her exhausted body, but she had not yet mustered the amount of energy nor the strength to lift herself off of the papers and the desk she and they both were on. Closing her eyes, she settled further into her creaking desk chair, mumbling the words of, “I will only rest for a short time,” before the heavy blanket of sleep overtook her.
As her eye opened again, she found herself elsewhere than where she laid her head down moments ago.
Gone from her sight was the wood of her desk and beneath her body, in...
Alexander’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his vision, as well as his mind, were cloudy and blurred, and as he moved to sit up, a pang of pain ran up his arm and through his body, causing the man to once more flop back against the bed, gritting his teeth tightly.
“Monsieur! You’re awake!” Came the voice of a timid servant boy, Alexander’s eyes slowly fell to him as he rushed over, a small bowl of water and a rag in his arms, which he promptly sat down next to the bed.
“Awake I.. what happened.. The Kathar the.. The mission..” Came the man’s slow and almost disconnected response, his memories of the Bloodcast’s recent mission slowly but surely flooding back into his mind.
“Easy easy Monsieur, there was an.. Accident, from...
“And they say we can only avoid confrontation with the enemy,
if he forgets his evil ways and learns to love us.”
On that day, the peace in the Essalonian village was not going to last. Some people had learned that Rodrigo Peirgarten is alive, and arranged for bandits and brigands to enter the village and finish the job. Unaware of the danger awaiting them, the villagers had gone on their daily doings, while Rodrigo made himself comfortable amongst his new populace, meeting people and making new friends. It was not difficult for him to involve himself with Northern society. But at this point, Rodrigo had retained enough of his memories to be well aware of what kind of pain he caused to these families. He had fully come to recognize...
Grief
It was a calm afternoon in Anglia and a young man stood at the side of a chapel. He was clad in white clothing, stark of any other color besides the boots he adorned. Aelfric stood there, his gaze set upon the two stones within the ground. On the left, the stone read, "Eolora Aherne 192-264" and on the right, "Wilmaed Aherne 189-264". The young Reverend kneeled down, his white pants being dirtied with the green residue of the grass. He placed the assortments of flowers upon each grave, soon offering a prayer. The Reverend then departed towards a carriage.
__________________________________________________________________________
He was home. At his parent’s home. A place where he sadly spent little time, as he was busied...
Second
Score
She’d never liked wearing armor, much. While she lacked much of a typically feminine frame, it still wasn’t a particularly broad or sturdy one: the weight of metal and the stiff layers of quilted cloth and chain made it hard to move comfortably in the manners which she was used to. Even with all the other… factors of her stay in Chateau Montsegur put aside, it made her feel quite unlike herself.
But what’s what the Countess wanted out of her Second.
Someone who Constanze most certainly was not. She’d made that explicitly clear since she first brought her in. And the weary, broken woman wasn’t in a place to reject the mold she found herself loosely and fluidly slipping into like unset mortar more and more as the days...
He still stood by the side of the pool table, his hand idly playing with the bull-shaped play piece. It had gotten quiet, real quiet since Baron Norrvakt had left the inner court, but such was to be expected. Perched on top of the mountain next to the Imperial city, the palace always had a very distant and quiet feel to it. The inner gardens were called the gardens of tranquility for a reason, “the same reason nobles would use to sometimes plot treason”, he thought to himself. On the pool table stood two crystalline glasses, one empty and one with but a savoring of liquid left from some unfamiliar imperial vintage.
He walked around the pool table and squatted to the floor, picking up the play pieces that had been discarded and tossed...
The rays of sun shone through the windows of the small village house as he awoke to a quiet and peaceful morning. Sliding off the sheets, he brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed at his features, giving off a yawn. First he stretched his arms into the air, and then pushed his legs out as far as he could. That was just about what he could manage in terms of morning relaxing, with how much his wounds disabled him. He had some difficulty sitting up, sharp pains striking his chest as he leaned forth, but nonetheless he managed. Having holes in his chest made him feel the pain he first felt whenever he bent his spine, but he was going to have to adjust. Although time would heal his wounds, it was certain that no one could escape permanent...
"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
· · ─────── ·· ─────── · ·
▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
The arena welcomed all who stepped through its archways. Peoples of the local Dearths filled the rows here and there. The odd face not exactly belonging to either Dearth or Gallovia emerged: townspeople, passerby included. Dearth girls, Dearth boys, farmers, sheep herders and other mundanes found open seats for any and all. Local barons and lords swarmed into the trope, bringing their companions or their servants. Flags soaring on high-standing poles wrapped around the top of the roofless arena, dancing in the strong winds of the temperate Highlands.
The familiar tune of the House of Howlester blared as Rodderick Howlester, Genevieve...
"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;" - William Shakespeare
As a beautiful dawn kissed the sky, the improv Commander Henrik Norrvakt gave the order to leave all but 1,500 to return to the transport vessels. Most of the troops had not slept and the aches of exhaustion seeped into their state of mind and physical capability. Though some did not share in this total bout of weariness. Relveth Vinthracia, in akin fashion to some of the other troops the evening before, had chosen to take action around the ruinous courtyard of Fort Holvechis. What could only be described as imposing, ghastly calls from birds rang around him as he moved over the dilapidated grounds. When rounding the body of the fort, Relveth noticed a strange...
"I am a fool...what have I done?"
_________________________________________________________________________
It had been a long time wandering for the restless Sihndar, Torlian Krakaine. He was a traveler now, a bounty hunter. A man who put wrongs right across the world, while his son remained in Drowvda, protecting the realm from other threats. Currently resting in the Northlands once again it was a tough life, having the war going on and all, though for the bounty hunters there was a whole host of people to hunt. Bandits raiding vacant villages, people who had fled from battle, etcetera, etcetera. Of course, today was a special bounty. Not as hard as it was just different. A Slizzar, who had disguised itself as a Maraya, who had...
First
Score
Nights in Tirgunn oft were like this: thick and dense downpours that threatened an earthy deluge of collapsing mud and torrential rain upon the scattered hamlets and roadside inns that dotted the bleak, mountainous region surrounding. In all actuality, it was the practical reason for the Darkwald Hunters’ typical choice of fashion in their varyingly-elaborate tricorne hats. Such headwear caught rainwater and deposited it safely away from the wearer with ease, and so the coat-wearing hunters of all things dark kept them upon their crowns in case of a sudden rainstorm.
It was on a night just like this, quite like any other, when the moon’s admirable light was mostly obscured by the gloomy weather, that a masked hunter...
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Amelina first entered the cathedral on an empty night, feeling regretful over previous decisions. She was alone and needed guidance on what she should do. No reverends were in the cathedral, but she came across a lone cleric, taking him by surprise as she entered the empty office. She had never seen a cleric that young and was enamored by him almost immediately.
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Amelina entered the room wearing a simple gown, sitting Rodrigo onto the lounge chair in the center of the room. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her stomach, telling him the news of her being with child. His ecstatic face and the way he held onto her, tears filling his own eyes as he became overjoyed.
════════════════
The pair sat in...
Some music to set the mood.
In her cozy little Regalian home, Eve sat on her couch, staring longingly at the piece of jewelry that now sat on her left ring finger. Her eyes misted over slightly as she reminisced on her past-- trying her best to not let it overcome her in her time of celebration. Sighing deeply, she stood to her feet, idly running the digits of her right hand along the oak wood of the table before walking by, smiling faintly as her fingertips brushed over the rough texture. Her footfalls echoed in the empty house as she wandered on through, her mind not currently tethered to the present. She could faintly hear the yipping sounds of her hound, Aurelia, but Eve paid them no mind, instead choosing to ascend the staircase...
The mornings of Lorhauser awoke to the sounds of horses riding across the countrysides, with the proud General of the Peirgarten Armies, Rodrigo at the head. A small militia of his own followed him around the fields, wearing the golden plate armor with the small touch of a magenta that adorned the very top of their helmets. Rodrigo yanked at the reins of his horse to stop in the woods, looking about. It looked as if he was expecting to find something, and was left sorely disappointed that he didn’t.
He turned his head to his side and looked to one of his Captains, speaking in confusion. “The army was to be summoned here two hours ago. They were going to mobilize. Where in the world are they?”
The Captain stared back to Rodrigo...
-=-
The salty sea breeze brushed through the fiery fur of the Corsair Lord who stood strong at the bow of the lead ship amongst his fleet along the Essalonian Strait. Waves lightly crashed into the side of the various ships present, flags of red and gold high above head flapped harshly in the winds. A large grin peeled across the Lord’s fox-like snout as he watched the opposing ships flee knowing well he was unopposed on the high seas. He released a low chuckle before hopping down from his perch and stepping through his Varran crew.
The crew held pirate grins of their own and nodded respectfully to their passing Altaj, yet it was quiet bar the waves below. A black and white speckled Yarran helped hoist the Lord onto a crate in the...
It was a rainy night sometime in mid-winter, during one of those murky hours in between midnight and dawn. A little Altalar lay contorted around her father's leg, her face pressed into the rough canvas of his pants. She slept peacefully in the supposed security of her family's apartment. True, the door did not close properly, and her father often commented about moving to a better place. But still, they remained. It would not be for long, though.
A crash woke the little Altalar. Groggy, she simply yawned and tried to return to sleep, even as the sound of something making the floor creak reached her ears. It stopped, and she started to drift back off. Only to be ripped from the warmth of her blankets, and from her father's leg. She...