This is Rulaan's sample post for the role of the Noble, copied from Evernote:
The Arryndar River stretched before Quentyn Merithese like a snake bathing in the heat, its waters red and glistening as the sun appeared behind the Mountains of Malene. Ribbons of pink and gold made the sky a theatre of dazzling colour, it's audience the earth below and its conducter the rising sun. The river was wide and calm, with enough room for Dawnsail and its followers to proceed unhindered. It would cut through Malene and take them into the Kingdom of Belindor, where they would land in Serval. Serval the prince thought bitterly. It should be ours. It was ours. It is ours. How embarrassing.
A week before, Quentyn did not imagine himself leading his countrymen to join the Grey Company. The news of General Gergoran Barka and the plight of the northern kingdoms came to the prince at the behest of his uncle. "Barka has called for men," he said in a hushed voice, "he has raised the Grey Standard." Faernia had apparently fallen, Belindor was besieged, and Malene's only defense was the wooded mountains that divided north and south. A war council was called. Not by his father, the foolishly reckless oaf he was, but by his son, the Crown Prince of Malene.
"Your Radiance," he addressed his father with a dutiful nod, "Lady Malyse, Lord Cyrius, lord uncles." The crowned prince unravelled an old papyrus scroll, the known continent sprawled across in black ink with each of the kingdom's borders shown by different colours. Malene was gold, Belindor was cyan. An olive-skinned hand glided across the behemoth that was the Kingdom of Belindor, its size a conveniently grim reminder to the council of everything Malene once was, and what it could have been. "If there is any hope at all for our kingdom to live up to our forebears, it resides here," his finger stopped at a large northern expanse, labelled 'the Fields of Mennor'.
"Why Belindor, my lord?" asked the Court Coinmistress, Malyse of Thaye.
"War. The Dark Army, they're calling them in the north. The northern kingdoms are gone, swept up by this scourge. General Barka has roused his army and scoured the kingdom for men and supplies, defying his own king. King Mahesa has sent much of his strength to join them. Osaran intends to do the same. Barka is yet to ask anything of us," the reply came from his uncle Alessandro, the War Lord of Malene. "The Grey Standard has been raised."
"Good. Let them all follow the words of some long dead fool to their graves. When they do, we'll take Mahesia and Karos, and stall this Dark Army at the Mountains of Malene," the king had declared with pride. Such childish pride, father.
The council remained silent after that but Quentyn was seething with rage. It was as if his soul was a forest in flames, fanned by his anger. It is up to me. I am the true king. He is naught but a fool - a lazy, fat, done fool.
Quentyn grew up in the shadow of his father's shame. From the fishwives of Arryn Quay to the men who called his father 'brother', he was known as Sessandro the Sloth. Yet, Sessandro remained a proud man, though it was his pride that rid him his credibility as a king when he thought to try his might against Belindor and expand the coastal kingdom. It was a glorious idea, one that showed great promise... until General Barka drove his sword deep into Khaylen Merithese's chest. After the king lost his brother and strategist, the war fell to Sessandro. Naturally, it all went down hill.
Gergoran Barka defeated Malene, and the king was humiliated. He conquered the former capital of Serval for Belindor as well as the lands beyond the mountains and then handed everything east and west of the Arryndar to Mahesia and Karos. Finally, when all else was done, General Gergoran Barka took from the king his red-gold diadem of suns and swords and crowned him with a wicked thing of black, barbed iron. His uncle Navesse once told him that "the sun still shines over Malene, but it will no longer shine over the Merithese Kings." But it will shine for me, as bright as it did for Saliras the Suntouched and the Kings of Summer and Dawn. I will be a part of history. All of Malene will love me, for now and forever, until the heavens fall and the stars explode.
It was the night before they set sail at one of his father's soirees that Quentyn went to his uncle Alessandro and the First Sword of Sirthos, Cyrius Porvo. "Let him stay here and sit on his arse. He's been doing that for the past ten years," he said in response to his uncle's protests. Cyrius was much easier to convince. Wherever steel sang its sweet song, Cyrius Porvo was always there to play.
The deviants chose to sail in the gloom of the midsummer night. Dawnsail headed the procession with its golden sails and one hundred oars. The two-headed eagle of the Meritheses flew at the ships meagre castle while the prince's adopted flag whistled in the cool breeze at the mast, a swirling red sun on teal and gold; the earth and the sea and the sun of the fabled summerseas beyond Malene.
As the sun climbed into the sky and gold and pink became the blue of a springtime ocean, Cyrius and Alessandro were with the crowned prince. They dined on black olives swimming in oil, a salad of pear and rocket with walnut and goat's cheese and dragonfish roasted with lemon, thyme and garlic. "In a day, we will be in Serval. In four more, I expect to be dining with General Barka and his captains. My friends, we will be hope for the Grey Company. Years from now, people will tell tales of the knights who rode into the last battle atop white stallions with long golden manes, with fire in their eyes and the sun on their shields. They will sing of the Knights of the Sun, and how they came from Malene," he paused, happy with the twinkle he saw in their eyes. They believe in me. When this war is done, I shall be a great king. The sudden epiphany added fire to his words. "We will be heroes, gentlemen. And our swords shall be the light that fights the darkness."