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Thread: Gold, Sweat, and Blood [IC]

  1. #161
    The Witch King MohawkYeah's Avatar
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    Within Zarr's Castle; Mid-afternoon, The Minor-Dining room.

    Zarr let his polished, abyssal gaze to sweep about the hushed crowd of over embellished socialites. Each one vying for favor, each doing their best to stand out, and earn his favor. A satisfied grin sprung to his bearded lips, inhaling slowly through his nose. Standing with hooded head bowed, the High Magus remained quiet, dwarfed by the back of Zarr's kingly dining chair.

    "I think you will all find it to your relief, that I have made my decision. I have reasoned for much of the evening on who might be most suitable to take over after the tragic mishap of the past governor. I plead you all understand the gravity of this situation, I do not take this lightly, a city without a governor is like a ship without her captain. It is with this in mind that I have made my decision," Zarr paused, letting his words sink in, a skill he had picked up early from his father. Silence is a most valuable tool, "High Magus Ethel, we have spoken in private of this matter, and she has agreed to take on the tantamount task of leading the city, while also presiding over the Magus Fold."

    The High Magus Raised her head this time, a faint smile graced those lips, lost in soft shadow. Silence gripped the room, a few of the nobles gasped before they manged to get a hold on themselves, and looked about at each other, trying to play off their surprised, and sheer hatred.

    Zarr looked over the long table of pampered, powdered faces, his dazzling white grin, an unsettling glint of fine ivory. He rose slowly, his simple, ruby encrusted crown clinging easily to his head. The high Magus walked slowly around the back of the kings chair, slowly lowering her hood to reveal a gaunt, pale, if not beautiful face. Raven black hair spilling down onto her clothed shoulders. Zarr placed out his right palm out, and she placed her dainty hand into it, and the two glided out into a spot where all could see them, "I would hope, that you all are good sports enough to know I made the decision that would best suit everyone. Come, let us congratulate our new Governess of Osi."

    It took the nobles several moments to recover, she was nothing to them, an unknown, likely low born, and not them. After a moment, the chunky noble that had opted not to dance began to clap, dull, and slow, echoing uncomfortably in the large space. It didn't take long for the rest to follow, building up into a waterfall of applause. Zarr nodded his head, still smiling, he himself joining in on their clapping, whispering a few words of praised into the High Magus's ears, over the noise.

    Edge of the Low Fields, Mid-Day.

    The days were starting to meld into one big, long, complaining filled waking dream. Dark circles had begun to ring beneath Akai's eyes, every noise, every whisper of the wind, it was starting to get to him. There could be inquisitors in any of them, in every shadow, under every patch of thick growth. That was not even to say that Elsa had become much more chatty in the days, complaining about the soreness of her rear, and then going into graphic detail about each and every blister.

    It was little respite when Elsa crested the hill ahead of him, her pause made his heart pound a little faster, and his stomach twist. He missed home, the towering spires of leaves and bark, the warmth of his bed, friends, and family. Away from the closed off, secluded forests of his home, everything seemed to have a dark twist to it. He could handle being saddle sore, which he was, and he felt far worse off then the whining Elsa, who had no male parts to add to the equation, but that was bearable. He had ridden horses all his life, and this was the farthest of their problems. The weather was dipping into the frigid each night now, and they wouldn't survive the trek back home unless they exposed themselves, by going into a human city.

    "What is is?" He managed to grunt out, his throat was dry, and hoarse still from the morning. His horse moved up next to Elsa, and loosed a weary sigh, looking out at the less then inviting landscape before them. A bleak, yellow and brown ocean of grass, and rocks, flat a dinner table, and a lot less inviting. This spread for as far as the eye could see, and though there were small hills rising like little humps in the otherwise flat earth, it was by far a different landscape all together from what they had been traveling through.

    "And now, it gets worse...." Akai, muttered, this was going to hell, there was no shelter, and they didn't have tents. The wind was well known for whipping up in deadly fits from the narrow passes far to the north, and blasting its full fury across the wide plains.
    Last edited by MohawkYeah; 03-05-2013 at 02:13 PM.
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  2. #162
    Queen Anastasia Elderon CorinTraven's Avatar
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    Within Zarr's Castle; Early-Evening, The Minor-Dining room.

    The Queen was surprised, but not completely, by his unlikely choice for Governor, rather, Governess. Anastasia had known he was planning something of the likes, and while her husband stood side and side with the queer woman, she clapped along with them, Rachelle and the children joining in on the congratulations without any real strong emotions either way. It was not such a horror-struck shock to them, idle curiosity, yes, but unlike the nobles, it held no significance beside the the reaction of said class.

    Who knew what Zarr hoped to accomplish by handing the city to the Magus Fold? Perhaps the expand its influence, or no longer have to deal with the whining of the governor of their freakish magicks. No doubt this woman was some sort of sorceress, reminding Anastasia of Isa, but more docile and less unnerving. She obviously enjoyed her promotion, and Ana could not see why she wouldn't A Governess, a true rarity among such an elite city as Osi. The only recent ones she could remember would be the wives of the diseased governor, and their reign was a filler until a more 'suitable' governor could fill their place. Ana's applause was sincere, but she had her doubts about the sullen looking men that had dined so happily only minutes ago. They seemed eager to go now, Zarr having effectively crushed any hopes and ambitions that had been so bold to flower in his presence.

    Anastasia suspected had it been anybody but Zarr to deliver such outrageous news, they'd be much less disappointed, and more enraged. Yet he presented himself and the Governess as one, and they weren't so rash to forget the rumors of Zarr's immense strength, only dwarfed by his sadism. No doubt this cloaked woman would be of the same breed, seeming so content in their misery.

    Their little party had dwindled from it's height as soon as the King and Queen departed from their dance, and as it slowly burned itself out, noblemen and woman reluctantly congratulated Ethel, while recalling their fealty once more to their King, and leaving. Micella was particularly cheery about being told she could leave, her mother dismissing both children, as they were no longer needed for appearance, and in all honesty, Anastasia wouldn't mind leaving herself.

    With about half of the noble houses still remaining, Mica bid her father farewell, her sour mood quickly dissolved for a giddiness, hopefully Ecily and Arin were around still, " Buh-bye." She'd give a slight curtsy, because there were still people around, though 'buh-bye' wasn't the height of formality, who was going to hear?

    "Where are you going?" Rachelle would perk in, standing beside Anastasia, and hearing the young Princess begin to take her leave.

    "She's going to go play with her little dumb friend." Maxwell answered for her.

    Mica's face, which had been a content smirk dropped into a stormy look, glaring at her brother, "She's not dumb, she knows how to talk, she just forgot, idiot. I bet she's smarter then you." She'd taunt, her brother only rolling his eyes, refusing to admit the only reason he'd cut in so bitterly was because he was jealous, realizing that without Mica, he had nothing interesting to do. But he'd not stoop so low to go play with her little dumb friends.

    Rachelle could see a brawl brewing, and tried to cut in, but Max was too quick, " I wish you'd forget how to talk."

    "I wish a pirate would kidnap you and cut out your tongue, so then you couldn't talk, AND THEN, he'd throw you off his pirate ship because no one would want to buy you(Because your ugly) and then fishes would eat out your eyes and your guts." That was quite the little disturbing monologue from the ten year old, who was iconic for her original threats, going on at length at a gruesome, and apparently watery, grave.

    Anastasia opened her mouth to interject, but she silently paused, thinking over what the little girl had just said, and realizing her youngest was better at threats then she was. Mica used this moment of shock to turn, and stomp off. Max watched her go, his brow furrowed, not knowing how to really react.

    "She should become a poet." Rachelle remarked, with a dry laugh...Anastasia sort of blinked, and nodded.

    Luckily, the little scene went relatively unobserved as the Prince and Princess went their separate ways, the rest of the night fairly quiet, and within a half an hour, all that remained would be Zarr, Anastaisa, Rachelle, Ethel, and a few guards and servants who'd been standing in astute stillness for hours at end.

    Edge of the Low Fields, Mid-Day.

    "Worse? You're kidding, this looks so much better, so open-..and wide, and..I'unno, better!" She wasn't the most antiquate speakers, but having spent a week in her constant presence, her difference slurs and odd sayings would make much more since. Elsa had no idea on how the vast flatness would be to their disadvantage, highly visible, and dangerous for two 'wanted convicts'.

    She was far more ignorant to her own land then Akai, and eager to leave the trees, she'd urge her horse forward, and down into the u shaped valley, a bowl of long brown grass, and it's other rim was a vague line in the distance, a broken chain of hills and mountains. Food would be scarce, and civilization, scarcer. Luckily, and Akai was half the guide he claimed to be, they would be able to begin sloping west, and make way for the Black Forests. Elsa has no clue where they were going, she was along for the ride, and though she constantly complained, she'd have it no other way. At the pace they were going, it was still another week until Heiglas. From there, they would be relatively safe from the bloody hands of the Inquisition, but the maw of beast and vermin were a very real threat until they finally broke into the forests of Celondia, a haven among chaos.

    Riding fast, and picking up speed, Elsa finally made it into the ocean of dry, dead, grass. It wiped at her exposed ankles, and the woman began to cuss soon after, kicking her free feet of the stirrups, and drawing them up. Madly, she pulled back at the reins, and her noble steed slowed to a stop. The plains were much more luxurious from a far, she was quick to realize. Glancing back for Akai, the city-slicker simply stared at the foreign grass, and let her horse graze, " I don't see what you're crying about..it ain't so bad..."

    To the far north, a mocking clap of thunder shook the earth, and following quickly after, a sharp gust of wind nearly blew Elsa off of the back of her horse. Looking around in shock, there was not a single cloud in the sky. At the horizon, dark skies loomed, and she looked helplessly back at Akai, "We-..We ain't going that way, right?"

    Within Zarr's Castle; Early-Evening, Vague Parlor.


    Micella's steps were as harsh as she could manage, her feet curled into tiny flat shoes, and the hardened heel of them clattered lightly against the stone floors. The noise annoyed her, as did her thoughts lingering back on her brother, and making her face grow redder and redder. Finally, she'd just stop in the middle of the floor, and pull off the painful shoes, carrying them for a second, before she'd toss them down the hall, trying to release some of her bent up aggression. It worked a little, and as she kept walking in search of her friends, her shoulders began to relax, and she'd sigh softly.

    They normally played around here, where no one came to bother them, and it was fairly lonely. They liked it, being able to do as they wished most of the time, Fel was there, but he hardly cared unless it was stupidly dangerous. A few servants milled around now and again, but they were easily dismissed, and as far as Mica knew, her mother hadn't discovered the new hide out, nor her brother.

    It surprised the young Princess to hear yells, and rough noises, but she grinned none-the-less, knowing Arin must be around. Excitedly, she rushed toward the noises, curious of what Arin was doing. It wasn't hard to find the door, bright light seeping from beneath it, and once she was there, Mica didn't pause to throw it open. The scene before her was surprising though-..it seems their haven had been discovered.

    On the ground, Arin lay, yelling, and struggling to stand while an older boy kicked at him. He was about Max's age, and stood at least two full heads higher then her friend, who was in turn was her age, and shorter then Mica herself. Fel was standing in the corner, unable to do anything because the noble brat's family was far more influential then Arin's own, and it would be only worse if he stepped in. Ecily clutched at his leg, sobbing pathetically. Mica's dark eyes narrowed, the boy not noticing her entrance. He seemed to be enjoying himself, having outsized the younger boy, and he didn't seem to care if he was hurting Arin bad. Though Arin stood finally, he was pushed back down, his head cracking to the right, and he'd get a glimpse of Mica, shocked, and now, her anger was provoked once more. Having just been subdued.

    "Hey!" She'd call, the boy turning around, at first fearless, then his eyes flashed to her crown, which still rested delicately atop her black hair, and it didn't take him long to recognize it was the Princess. " What do you think you're doing? That's my friend-..look what you did to him!" She'd bark, the boy, though older, inclining his head, and trying to explain.

    "H-he startled it, your...uh-.Grace?" He'd tighten his lips, she was just a little girl...what was the worse she could do? Boldly, he tried to once more reassert his cocky smile, " It isn't my fault he's common scu-.."

    "Does it look like I care who started it? And don't call him common scum, his father is Lord Respar, and he heads the King's finances. What does your father do, hm? Kiss my fathers ass?" She was lying when she said he was a lord, but Sir, Lord, all the same to her. She put extra emphasis on the 'a' word, as she was not allowed to say it, but it delighted her to do so.

    The boys smug look disappeared, and he'd blink at Arin, who stood, and wiped the blood from his nose, looking as cocky as any victor despite the fact he'd had the snot beaten from him, "I-..I did not know, Princess...I just-.."

    "Shut up! I don't care, Arin, what happened?" Mica commanded, despite being only ten, she was very good at mimicking her father, having a natural talent, and the boy shifted uneasily, looking down guiltily, as he knew he would not be a hero in Arin's story.

    Arin rubbed a bruise, and cleared his throat, " I thought ya'd never ask, Mica. I did'unt start it. We were waitin' for you, but then we thought you'd find us better here, because you had that party to go to, but he musta' followed us, because he walked in like he owned the place. He started makin' fun of Ecily, 'cause of her hair, an' she started crying. Fel told 'um to stop, but he didn't care, and he tried to touch Ess's hair, and was callin' her dumb, and I said if he didn't leave m'sister alone, I'd beat 'um bloody. Ecily don't like bein' touched, you know that! So she was hidin' next to Fel, and Fel can't do nothing he said, 'cause the boy wouldn't listen to him, and we'd all get in trouble of Fel hurt 'um. He told me to leave him be, but I wasn't goin' to let him go 'round makin' fun of my sister...So, I did punch 'um first, but he deserved it!"

    As Arin's story went on, Micella's face only darkened, and she turned slowly to the older boy, who had abused his own rank, rather the rank of his father, and she'd hold no qualms about doing it herself, "You were hurtin' Ecily?"

    "I didn't hurt her-.."

    "Liar!" Arin called, and Mica stepped closer to the boy, who stood there.

    "Next time you say another awful thing to Ecily or Arin, or I hear you make fun of you, or hear that you did, you'll regret it."

    "What are you going to do? You're just a little girl." This boy wasn't so bright, but he blurted it out before he even thought.

    Micella grinned, and cocked her head a little, "I know, I wish I could knock ya' teeth in, but I'm not allowed to. I'm a princess, you know, but," She canted her head toward Fel, " I bet he could. And even though he's not supposed to hit little girls, If I told him too, he'd have to listen, because I'm the Princess. Right Fel?" She'd ask the burly man, who, if allowed to beat the boy to a pulp, probably wouldn't have an issue.

    Gulping, the boy nodded, and looked down, " Alright...I'm sorry, your Highness."

    "Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to Ecily!"

    "Sorry..." Mica corrected him, like her mother corrected her when she'd apologize sullenly.

    "Sorry who?"

    The boy blinked, his eyes narrowed, annoyed to be treated like a child by a girl younger then him, but he knew better then to disobey her now "Sorry Ecily."

    Mica nodded, looking to Arin, " How bad did he hurt you?"

    "Ain't nothin'.." The boy replied, though his mouth and nose was bloody, and he'd be nursing his left arm.

    Mica shook her head, discontent, " You can punch 'um in the face if you want. What's your name?"

    She'd look toward the boy, who looked, astounded up, ready to protest. Reluctantly, he'd give his name though, hoping she was joking, " Edgar Des'Mari." She nodded toward Arin, who cracked his knuckles.

    "I'll remember that, now, hold still, it's gonna' hurt." She'd grin, almost evilly, but the little bastard deserved it, and Arin had a right to his revenge.

    "You can't!" He'd cry, but Mica raised an eyebrow, looking at Fel.

    "Want him to instead?" The boy gulped, having once been in charge, but Mica was kicking him brutally back into his place, Arin stepped forward, though he wasn't a fighter, he'd rough around enough, often losing, he still knew how to throw a well enough punch for his age. The boy stumbled back, Arin cutting his knuckles off his teeth, but he grinned none-the-less.

    "Ah!" Ye-..Y'broke my tooth." His mouth would be bleeding, tears springing to his eyes, and he'd whimper.

    Mica stepped closer, "Lemme see!" The boy opened his mouth, Arin hadn't broken it, just sorta' pushed it a little, it was hardly noticeable, "Oh hush up, you baby, you're fine." She'd gesture for him to leave then, sharing victorious grins with Arin as the boy scrambled off, resentful, and embarrassed. "You okay?" She'd ask, and Arin just grinned and nodded, blood in his own teeth, but you didn't see him crying, "Don't worry, M'dad hates the nobles, and he deserved it. If his father comes crying to my mum, or dad, they'll tell 'um to piss off." She looked toward Ecily, assuring them that everything was okay.

    Even the little girl, who never smiled, gave a soft look, wiping her tears and finally prying herself from Fel's leg. Mica's attention was now on the man, " You should of jus' kicked 'um in the teeth, he deserved it. Then he wouldn't have no teeth, and he couldn't make fun of Ecily for not talking, because he'd be like "Warblahhhh elogaaa" 'cause he wouldn't have no teeth!" She'd do a masterful impression of a toothless man, grinning hugely, the dangerous look having disappeared for a cheerier one, feeling like she'd done something good, and content that her friends were okay.

    Jewelstine; Mid-Day, Surveying the gun powder.


    Jewelstine's sky was a cloudless perfect canvas of blue. The city had finally stopped burning, and all around, they began to rebuild, the sound of hammer and stone replacing the roar of cannon fire, as proud Jewelstine submit, and life was to begin once more. It was time to unveil the Crown Prince's reward, safeguarded in a massive stone warehouse, and before the doors would even open, there was no doubts their was an awesome amount, perhaps even more then previously anticipated. Windows ran all along it's side, by they were now covered with different wooden, stone, and metal coverings. Obviously, it'd be a tragedy if a lose cannon ball came hurdling through the window, and set the entire building off like a bomb, so when Jewelstine came under siege, they were quickly barricaded.

    "As you can see, Prince Daniaris.." A stout, dark skinned man, who spoke perfect common looked back to the General-Prince, having been the business man who owned this building. He'd forfeited any rights to the warehouse for his life, and though he must be resentful, it did not show. He was still hopeful that he would be allowed to carry on his business, once he proved his worth, " We've quite the amount already mined-..but they are still plentiful, and there is still so much more left within our black sands." He raised a key, his Adam's apple bobbling as he'd push it into the lock, and push the door open. The room was pitch black, and when of the Prince's most prepared soldiers produced a torch, he'd be screamed at.

    "Are you crazy? The room is filled with gunpowder, we simply cannot risk lighting it, please, Sir, put that away!" The gaunt man stared, his eyes bulging, before he'd nod to two of his workers, well accustom to feeling their way in the dark. They hurried in, and within a minute, rolled around a sizable barrel. Without waiting, they brought it into the sunlight, sat it upright, and opened the top. Inside, it was filled to the brim with a dusty sort of black soot, and touched, and sniffed, there was no doubt it was gunpowder.

    Grinning, as if proud of losing his entire life's work to these northerners, the man gloated, " There are over thirty thousand casket's just the same in there...and now that Jewelstine is-..." He searched for the right word, "Liberated, we can reopen the mines." He was proud, one barrel of gunpowder was expansive enough, but if he was not lying, which Daniaris would probably doubt, and could investigate anytime, this man was quite rich. Well, he used to be, because quite obviously, Venn would not be paying much for this gunpowder, and by the end, he'd probably lose all his fortune. Unless, of course, Zarr allowed him to reclaim his business, though the gunpowder would be cheaper than before, he'd at least live comfortably.

    " Are you satisfied, your Highness?" He'd ask, glancing down at the powder, and then once more to Daniaris's face.

    The Middle of the Ocean; Mid-day, a Boat.

    The sky was shit, grey clouds loomed, and all around, the dark waters sloshed up against the wooden ship as it was pushed around helplessly. Sabree stood up on the deck, only to get fresh air with the Sultan's son, who was sick as a dog, clutching at her leg, and staring up at the angry sky. Water coated his dark curly hair and face, as it did for Sabree, different sailors running about to secure the different sails, and make sure the rigging didn't get tangled in this awful weather.

    She was quick to discover just how much she hated the sea, longing desperately for land as the waves rocked her and Tinet around, making his uneasy stomach even worse. Though there was nothing Sabree could do, under constant supervision, and she did not want any of those damned Northerners to know her particular talents. She'd heard rumors that the King held an obsession for the magical arts, and she wanted it to be her own choice if he learned of her adeptness.

    Rashah was probably away in his cabin, just as sick as his son, but refusing to admit it. The young boy didn't seem to mind, adoring Sabree's company, as she'd clutch his hand like his mother, and when he sobbed at night, she soothed him. It was a shame for this boy's life to be so tragic, he'd not known a happy day in his short existence, and silently Sabree promised to change that. She'd not let him die in Venn, still so young and innocent, and if she must, she'd plead and bargain for his life. She however, would not beg for his father's, and in all actuality, she'd prefer the man a corpse. Tinet loved him, but Tinet was too young to understand what bitterness his father held toward him, and what cruelty. He'd love anyone, even that damned bastard of a Prince.

    The boat leaned unnaturally to one side, and with a strike, Sabree nearly was sent head over heels forward as it smashed the other way, water briefly washing over the deck, and it was only a luckily placed mass that saved Sabree from going overboard. Tinet's tiny hand was ripped from hers, and in a sudden brash, and irrational fear, she'd search for the boy. He'd be close to the edge of the boat, coughing up water, and sobbing as he was soaked. Fearfully, Sabree rushed forward to lift him from the ground, her eyes widening as she saw another wave lift the ship, and plunge it mercilessly into the sea, water cresting over the side, and the yell of men making the woman cringe. She'd clutch the boy tightly, and hold on with all her might to some rigging as once more water sprayed and pulled at her.

    Refusing to give herself to the sea though, the priestess struggled toward door that led to the belly of the ship. They were caught in a nasty storm, and it was no longer safe to dwindle on the deck. She reached it just as they raised to the top of another wave, and quickly, she'd scramble in, slamming the door behind her, and stumbling as she'd be pressed toward the wall, and thrown about like a doll. Water rushed beneath the door, and down the wooden steps, but it'd be nothing like it was outside.

    Sabree carried Tinet down the stairs, hugging him close, and murmuring reassuring thoughts in his ear, that everything was going to be okay. A few seamen were scattered against the floor, groaning, and injured. She ignored them, and made way for her Cabin. Once inside, she settled into the odd woven hammock, and set Tinet against her. The boy was okay, sobbing, as he'd almost been swallowed by the sea. Kissing his temple, Sabree hushed him, "Do not worry..Shh, I won't let anything bad happen." She'd swear it to the boy, and he believed her, even as the entire cabin slid and rocked around them, he hugged Sabree, and closed his eyes.

    She said everything would be alright, and he was too foolish to realize otherwise.
    Last edited by CorinTraven; 03-08-2013 at 11:38 AM.

  3. #163
    The Witch King MohawkYeah's Avatar
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    Within Zarr's Castle; Early-Evening, The Minor-Dining room.

    An emptiness silence spread itself out from the lack of warm bodies within the room. The hazy, lingering scents of posh sweat, and husky, smoking vices intermingled with the musty, stifling air of the castle. The exit of the guests left Zarr to busy himself with the Head Magus of his own Magus Order. This plan had been turning within his mind the evening hours after the unfortunate loss of the Orignal Governor of Osi. There were few Zarr trusted as much as his hand selected Head Magus, and with her in command there would be far less for him to worry about in way of complaints due to the sill superstitions that seemed to spring up around Zarr's master instituion of mages. Ethel watched the throng of nobles as they all passed by her and the king, her smug smile never falling from her lips. She thanked each one as they passed with a head nod or a half-hearted curtsey, and Zarr watched them go with his own tight lipped grin, "Ana, come meet our new governess." Zarr called, beckoning his wife over as the coattails of the last noble fluttered around the immense, gaudy exit.

    Ethel Turned her eyes on another figure moving in the opposite direction of other nobles. Her dress hiked up with her hands, she was moving at a brisk pace, her pointed shoes clinking against the black and white marble floors of Zarr's castle. It was none other then the newly widowed wife of the Governor of Osi. She curtsied quick to the three still within the room, her tower of hair balanced precariously high atop her head in grey curls. Her face had enough make upon it to out do any jesters, dark red coloring added to her lips, her face powdered to a cakey white. Her eyebrows were to impeccably stripped to have been real, looking like dark brown marks over top her eyes. Her aura shouted dishevled, a few of the curls wound tightly in intricate designs had mananged to free themselves from their stylized prisons and bobbed freely looking like wild springs in a malfuncioning clock piece.

    "Your grace." Her voice, a mixutre of femine age, gentle breeding, and the husky remains of one who had truly mourned a loved ones passing.She turned eyes which had rested just below full eye contact with Zarr's, to Ethels, wholely ignoring Anastasia for everyone knew her to be a great air head, and would hardly notice the slight of recognization. "I-...I must protest this...this injustice upon your kingdoms honor." Her voice started out slow, her words silenced for a split second as her nervous voice forced her to swallow. "I am in no doubt your intentions are of pure intent." Her voice was growing in strength, she was a noble woman, formerly the wife of a governor, this was her place within the world, what she had spent her whole life mastering. "but...How...how dar you give the seat of Governorship to this-...common witch?"

    Ethel's grin never faultered, infact it grew, her eyes trained upon the womans face which was quickly growing flustered, she hardly needed the dark red powder to simulate her 'youthfulness' now. The widows heart was pounding so quickly, fluttering, like a hummingbirds.

    Zarr's face grew from curiously raised brow, to an expressionless brooding, to a frowning snarls as the widow spoke. He raised his palm to her as she finnshed, he had heard more then enough, "Silence, woman!" His tone was level, but commanding,"You would dare protest your kings judgement, do you not think I have considered every single issue that might arise from my choice?" Zarr words were still level, his face hard set now.

    Ethel on the other hand had lost her sumg grin, her right hand rising up and clenching around the widows throat. What was once an almost deer in the headlights sort of stare had become something dark, and sadistic. Her pale arm visible as the modest, ill-fitting black robes fell back to her shoulder. The noble woman let out a stunnged, ragged gasp, her eyes going wide, her own pale hands gripping the one hand that gripped her throat in an unbreakable vicegrip.

    "I-..ah'!" The widow choked out.

    Ethel payed her no mind, blood from the windows feeble attempts to claw free dripped freely from her palm. "Perhaps...desert is still on the menu?" Ehtel's voice was cold now, the femine, simplistic tone sounding more akin to a possed child, than the seemingly beniegn woman that had stood there just moments before.

    Zarr watched the spectale with no expression, glancing over at Anastasia, whom he wished hadn't to have seen this episode, but business is business. "As much as I would love to grant your request my dear, little Ethel, Alas, I cannot. It would only cause you, and I harm politically if the widow were to go missing. There is also the...issue of serventile gossip."Zarr made a faint glance about the room at the guards, and servants all of which were now fully focused upon the little spectacle.

    "I could...take care of the servants." Ethel's voice seemed to be obtaining a gravely tone, her skin slowly taking on an almost purplish-link hue now. In what appeared no more then raising a finger, she raised the widow into the air with one hand still around her neck. THe woman's pointy tipped shoes dangly a few inched above the marble flooring. "I'm sure there would be much mourning over the terribly heart broken widow who could simply not take her traitorous husbands sentence, and died of a broken heart, hmmm'?"

    "No." Zarr's tone was quick and concise, his hands folding behind his back as they often did when he was thinking. "You may have a meal anywhere but in my castle tonight, and you may not harm the widowed wench." Zarr paused, eyeing the noble woman as Ethel lowered her back to the ground, as her arm released the woman, she crumpled into a puff of her ornately decorated dress. "Do you not see the mercy and compassion I loose upon my subjects?"

    Zarr paused for a moment, silence in small amounts emphazied statements, it was something he had picked up early on in life. In that silence, the faintest tinkling noise could be heard, no one turned, no one glanced, except for one of the guards, a faint wet spot spreading out from his groin.

    "Ana, I must attend to things, I will see you in our bed chambers." Zarr spoke matter of factly, already starting for the exit, taking a wide berth of the crumpled widow. "Someone help the poor wench up, dammit! Ethel, I assume you have matters of your own, seeing as you are now both governess and head of the Magus." Zarr's boots clacked across the floor as he flittered across the room and out the door, making a speedy bee-line for the room with the wide glass table.


    Edge of the Low Fields, Mid-Day.

    Akai stood up in his stirrups, giving him an extra height boost, and faint reprisal from the constant sitting he had been doing over the last few hours. His emerald green gaze following the two figures of Elsa and her horse down the hill and into the first few yards of grass that they would have to traverse. His eyes roved then higher to the horizon, this had been his least favorite part of the journey, even in the summer months. There was nothing to protect you, and though he could manage for himself, the addition of the Eye, and his human charge, made moving quickly, and noticed that much more complicated.

    The sharp double clicks of his tongue and pressing on the horses ribs with his heels sent the two barreling down the hillside, and into the grassy plains, they paused after catching up with Elsa. His face looking none to happy as the clap of thunder blasted across the landscape from the north.

    "No...fortunately, we are heading," He paused, standing upright in his stirrups one more time to point with one finger towards a more Western course. "That is the way. To the Black forests, and the human settlement that resides at its edges. We must be quick though, I am inclined to think there might be more to worry about then the gales, rain storms, and this so called 'inqusition' while we are out here."

    With that, the wayward elf sat back into his saddle and started off at a steady pace, high overhead the sun was about to be overtaken by the wispy tendrils of clouds, the last rays slanting down across the landscape for the last time that day. They would travel on in peace for much of the rest of the day, the constant sound of the horses brushing against the grass a faint white noise to the silences in their travels.
    Last edited by MohawkYeah; 03-13-2013 at 07:43 PM.
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  4. #164
    Queen Anastasia Elderon CorinTraven's Avatar
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    Within Zarr's Castle; Early-Evening, The Minor-Dining room.

    At Zarr's request, Anastasia nimbly crossed toward him and the Governess. She wore her normal content look of happiness, who knew how her cheeks didn't cramp up from the cheeriness, giving the woman a slight nod of acknowledgement, "Congratulations, Governess. I am sure Osi will benefit from your leadership..." As she spoke, she heard the clicking of heels, and turned to the widow. She held sincere compassion for the woman, perhaps the only one in this entire room, as Ana was a saint in comparison to the Governess of Osi, and her husband. Though she stood at the King's side, her pleasant smile sobering until a more regretful look, big brown eyes following the woman, who did not even spare her a glance. She looked flustered enough, so Ana was quick to forgive, her arms crossing in front of her, and her face tensing as the woman's words made Ana uneasy. She knew this would not end well, but it truly did surprise her when she saw Ethel's pale hand instead of Zarr's own larger, bronzed one. She'd tense completely, watching with a dulled horror as the older woman was lifted, and choked by the black-cloaked fiend.

    Part of Anastasia wanted to help the woman, who was foolish, and insulted her and her King, but she did not deserve to die. She was grieving, and it was understandable that she may see some issues with this new governess. All the nobles surely did, but she was the only one brave and stupid enough to say even the slightest word about it. Ana knew if she said a word, she could stop it, but she could not summon the strength to do anything but look shamefully down. Her tongue grew fat in her mouth, and she tried to excuse herself with the fact if Zarr wanted it stopped, he'd stop it. It was not comely of her to oppose the wishes of her husband, so she shyly just diverted her eyes. When she raised them to the twisted words of Ethel, which reminded her so bitterly of that parasite Isa, her glance to the right was timed enough just to meet eyes with Zarr. He'd easily be able to gauge that his Queen was uncomfortable with the proceedings, even looking a bit anxious, like she was seriously debating doing something about it. Obedient as ever, she just stood silent, though it put great strain on her morality.

    She was relieved when that wench finally let the poor woman down, who collapsed in a heap, perhaps she'd fainted, or perhaps simply struggled to regain her breath. Anastasia struggled then to keep any malice out of her normally docile gaze, as she was not a fan of unnecessary cruelty, despite being married to perhaps the biggest tyrant in the history of Venn. Her views were biased, and perverted by her own affections for Zarr; the Queen often rationalized his decisions so she no longer could not see it as the death of a person, a family, but a tactically passionless maneuver of power. Then, she could convince herself it was necessary, unlike this, which she saw no use for other than for the sake of sadism.

    When Zarr dismissed himself, and then the Governess, Anastasia turned to bid him a quiet goodbye, not being as startled as he might expect, though she still obviously did not take any joy in the threats to the widow, the gentle heart she was. When he turned away, and yelled for someone to help her up, Anastasia was the closest. Though it was not courtly, the Queen decided she could bare it no longer, and knelt down beside the ridiculously painted woman, not caring if Zarr saw her. If he did, he could bring it up later, and she'd not regret it, perhaps even defend it. If he let it boil into an argument, she'd try her best to avoid it, but Ana knew she could not simply ignore him. She feared arguing with him, but not more than she felt the instinct to help this woman. Gentle hands shifted beneath the woman's underarms, and though a slight, and willowy creature, Ana lifted her a bit, the few servants that'd been quickest to come assist, helping her gently pick the noblewoman from the ground.

    The old governess looked a bit faint, but she was conscious, breathing shallowly, but more frightened then actually hurt. With Zarr, and Ethel gone, Ana felt free to speak soothingly to her, calming her, and comforting her. The noblewoman blinked at her, having thought those big brown eyes severely stupid only fifteen minutes ago, now they stared back, not exactly lovingly, but there was definitely some concern, " Are you alright?" Ana skipped her title, her voice soft and quiet as a whisper. Now the dumb one, the old woman nodded. "Good, can you stand?" Ana asked simple sentences, and was delighted with another nod, gesturing for the servants to let her go, and swaying at first, the lady stood straight.

    Her eyes darted nervously around, as if that witch might return any second, and commit any awful crime the King had reluctantly denied her. Anastasia understood her fear, and shook her head, " Don't worry, the Governess is gone, and she'd not dare disobey my husband's orders, and if she is wise, mine either. You are alright." She spoke highly, and sweetly, trying to assure her that everything was alright. Where a simple thank you would of been more then okay, but completely expected, the noblewoman took a totally different tone, without any thanks.

    " How can you live with that?" She'd ask, her own voice seeming almost harsh, though still shaken. Ana blinked, only left to assume that that was in place of her husband. Her own eyes narrowed oddly, she did not look cross, but she looked as if she was warning her. The servants had not caught on as easily as the Queen, though this was quite the drama to witness.

    " Because I love him, " She'd answer concisely, as if the woman should understand. The ex-governess blinked, and opened her mouth, as if the answer did not satisfy her, but Anastasia interrupted, a bit more angry this time, "Do you not understand? Did you not love the late-governor, despite his faults-..his, treasonous faults, mind you. It would be close renegade itself to love his...mistakes, creases, some deeper then others, but that did not change the fact that you loved him?" She'd ask, the lady simply staring back, and Anastasia let out a deep breath, completely frustrated. Her own politeness feinted for a second, to allow perhaps one of the rudest things she's ever said in public grace her royal lips, "You are quite dull, aren't you? I am warning you, threatening, no, warning, because I have recently learned I am no good for threats, and I've never had the heart for them. It is my sincerest suggestion that you do not return, it is not safe for you. Return to what remnants of a house you have left, and live out your final years in peace and comfort. I am sure they will receive you, and if that is not possible, your husbands brethren are bound by vow to accept you, you poor widow. Stay away from Orjota, politics, the public, and speak not a word of what happened to you today, understood? I can't guarantee your life once you leave these walls, or for the years to come, but I can advice you in the best way to keep your head. If you are asked, your time at this castle was pleasant as it could be, given the grim circumstances, and you believe the Governess of Osi was an excellent choice." Ana spoke in a hushed, and harsh whisper to the Widow, the few servants close enough to hear straining to listen, and it was a relief when the woman nodded, and gave a curtsy to Anastasia, seeming to understand.

    "Yes, My Queen, thank you, My Queen." She'd rattle off, Ana looked about, nodding to Drewery. He came without a pause, and stiffly saluted.

    Anastasia waved it off, and now spoke in her normal, honey-sweet tone, her smile returning, and a weight depleting from her shoulders, " Sir Drewery, please escort the Madame from the castle, and make sure she has safe lodgings for the night." The elite guard gave a stiff nod, and offered out his arm for the shaken woman. She took it reluctantly, and now the parlor was just Queen Ana, who gave a glance around at the servants, their eyes trained attentively on her, as even those at the farthest corners could tell the Queen had done a great favor for the noble. She looked with as much vigor as she could manage at the two serving girls closest to her, who'd heard pieces of what she had to say to the widow. It was not of the up most importance, but she furrowed her brow at them, and they gave an understanding nod. They were not to repeat what they heard, Zarr did not need to know, it would not hurt him, and she'd probably done him a favor, to get that woman out of his hair in a civil manner.

    Before she was even out of the eyesight of the remaining servants, Ana tore the tiara from her head, and clutched it at her side, her temples throbbing, and she'd be eager to return to her bed chambers, conflicted in waiting for Zarr, for they may argue, or sleeping, which made her feel cowardly. She knew he wouldn't wake her to begin an argument, so she settled in a chair, and awaited her fate, curious of what her husband would have to say to her in their own privacy.

    --

    As Zarr returned to the office, he'd quickly discover he was not alone. Not moments after he'd turned his back on the mirrored table, that pale visage of Isa stood behind him. She kept unusual distance, for obvious reasons, as she was not entirely sure what his reaction would be to her. He was quite protective of his 'Anastasia', and she suppose it wasn't the smartest to slit that over-valued piece of decoration's belly, even if she'd kept her life intact. The small creature seemed to pulse with a sort of unusual power, her features almost glowing in the dim light, looking supple in her face, rather then gaunt, and if he looked quickly enough, she was nearly human looking. If it wasn't for her damned shadow, and the paleness of her features, she'd pass as a fine peasant girl. Still, she was alienated and other-worldly, watching him carefully.

    It was no coincidence that she'd seem some powerful, she'd fed, a lot. Isa wanted to be prepared, in case she was not forgiven, and she'd need to flee, for she would never fight Zarr if she had a choice in the matter. Though proudly she clung to the idea that she could win, no longer could she guarantee it, and he grew stronger every day. He may overcome her soon, but the Witch would never let him discover that little fact, there were still a great many talents she'd acquired and refined that he would never, his mortal life just too short.

    " Greetings, My King." It was hard to tell if her words were sincere or mocking, testing maybe...watching the man carefully, and trying to guess each move he made two moves before he made it.

    Edge of the Low Fields, Mid-Day.

    They'd made it quite far, Elsa reckoned as she'd bedded down in the tall glass for the night. It was surprisingly soft when you flattened it, and the horses were particularly thankful. Though, it was bitterly cool and dark as the deepest pits of hell, the dark clouds hiding the sky from her, and winds bursting unfavorably across the flat plains. Akai refused to light a fire despite the cold and the dark, so the woman sat there, a triple layer of her clothes, and then the much nicer ones of the Inquisitors upon some more of their generous friend's on top. Still, the wind found a way to bite and nip at her skin, beneath the blanket, only a few feet away from Akai. It wasn't cold enough that they had to snuggle (( <3)), which they were both thankful for as travelling made the two of them smell too much like the horses.

    The grass was the main problem, being soft, but it was so damn loud when the wind riled it up, she thought she'd never go to sleep. Eventually though, her think lids fell over her brown eyes, and the woman was able to get some rest. Of course, that was until fat drops of rain ran down her face, and soaked her hair and clothes. Elsa's eyes opened reluctantly then, seeing torches lit around her, and arms holding them, cloaked and devilish faces cast in the dramatic light, and before she knew it, her heart was pounding like a drum, "AKAI!" She'd shout for her elven companion, taking only a moment to fumble over the fact that they'd been discovered, and he was best to cover his ears in the least.

    The bandit woman gave an uneasy smile at first, then through the pounding of the rain, she heard the shifting of metal, and sitting up, she got a better sight that between these torchbearers different fiends lurked. Some wore odd pieces of metal armor, or leather, others were just clothes. Many had a bit of steel in their hand however, and reflexively, Elsa reached for the sword Akai had given her. She'd laid it beside her when she slept, but unfortunately , they must of discovered it before she'd awoke, because it was gone. Her next instinct was to reach to her neck for the eye, and relief flooded her to find that it still was there.

    Nervously her eyes darted about, " So-...I s'pose,yer' some sort of band o'thieves or something?" A few gave hapless grins, glancing between each other, and shrugging.

    " Depends on who ya' ask, girl. But right now, we've heard there's a pretty ransom on the two of your heads.." A man's voice came from the crowd.

    Elsa blinked, touching her chest, as if in disbelief, "M-me? Ransom-..Ha." She'd try to fake a laugh, "You must got us confused with someone else, we're not criminals...Y'know what, you should just rob us."

    " No, it's you, the King's Wench told us so, gave us a pretty good description of what we'd be looking for, and the both of you left an easy enough trail to follow, I'm surprised a lot like ya' can make it all this way without being caught, if the King's after your hides..."

    She shook her head, both eyes completely wide as she was about ready to crap her pants, " I've got a common appearance-...I mean, brown haired, brown eyes, that's like-..half the women you'll ever meet! Which, I'm sure ya' do a lot of, strike me as a charming bastard, no doubt." She'd grin, though the faceless voice seemed unamused.

    A sun-hardened hand pointed out toward Akai, "Yeah, girl? It was more of the fact that he's a fackin' elf that cued us in, y'know?"

    "He has a birth-defect...?" She'd say hopefully, but it didn't seem to convince any of these bandits, each grinning with the simplicity of catching these supposed 'Wanted Criminals', the Witch must of offered them quite the sum of money for their heads, far more then those wretched posters, or they'd probably just cut open both of their bellies, and stolen their pre-stolen goods.

    Her eyes nervously darted to Akai, it'd be the perfect time for some got'damn magic or something, because, she had her doubts that this was going to end well without it.

    Land Ho!; Evening, a Boat.

    Tinet stared up at the shining sky, having never seen much of the sky in his life, forever indoors, hiding from the cannon fire and quivering in its wake. The little boy smiled now, his teeth small, a few missing and leaving gaps in his adoring grin. It was calm and dark, and though he was alone, Tinet didn't feel scared anymore. He knew Sabree was around, and a few of the sailors bustling around had taken to the little southern boy. At first, they seemed hostile, but a few weeks at sea softened their hearts, and though he could not understand them, through smiles and kind gestures, he'd thought they had quite the bond. He had hardly seen his father, the man brooding and awaiting his fate within his cabin most of the trip. Him and Sabree often were on deck, she'd teach and play with him, they'd stretch their legs, and as time passed, Tinet didn't feel so sick.

    She seemed worried for him, the boy was running a fever, but the cool breeze of the sea cooled him now, and he clung onto the railing, and watched the stars. His attention was diverted when there was a great excitement amongst the sailors, they'd point and cheer at the front of the ship, and more came from their cabins, and climbed the rigging. Tinet wandered up toward them, and before he could call in his foreign language to know what was happening, the boy was lifted from the ground, and placed on a sturdy set of shoulders, which pointed at a dark shape on the horizon, "Land," The man said in a language Tinet didn't understand. He smiled, and pointed again, repeating himself, "Land!"

    The young boy was excited by this, and seemed to catch on, repeating over and over that simple word, his accent obvious, and the word sounding odd to his own ears, "Land! Land!" He'd call, the sailor seemed quite happy with himself, and nodded. The boy didn't know what it meant really, in the dark night, but the men seemed happy, so he was happy too!

    Sabree joined them on the deck soon enough, rattling off in that odd language, and the sailor smiled, gave a sort of bow of his head, and handed over Tinet. She'd be tall for her age, and supported him against her hip, pointing at the landmass, and speaking in words the boy knew, "Look, Tinet, that's Venn, we're going to be off this boat soon. I believe the city is Fae-Port."

    "Fair-Port, Miss." The Sailor corrected, and she'd give him a polite smile.

    "Fair-Port, the capitol cities perhaps a week of hard riding, a week and a half if we take our time." She'd nuzzle her head affectionate into Tinet's, a boy she'd known well enough before their trip, but as she lost everything, now she clung desperately to this child, who she considered orphaned in more sense then once. His sullen father eventually emerged from the belly of the ship, deep bags under his eyes, and looking sallow. He did not seem happy with going to Venn, but at least satisfied that they'd get off this damned boat.

    He tried to say something snide to Sabree, but she ignored it, not allowing the man to sour her mood. Eventually, he returned to his cabin, disgruntled, and ignored, the once proud Sultan already a shell of the man he used to be. Sabree tore at the Captain for details on their docking, and she'd learn that bright and early in the morrow, they'd finally make it to port, and be allowed off the ship. She awaited morning with a twisted eagerness, part of her curious and hopeful, while another knew that it was only counting down the days until the death of the Sultan, and perhaps their entire pathetic party. Still, she refused to allow such morbid thoughts to take hold, her and Tinet both quite excited as they'd sleep that night, gossiping and filling the boys head with the joys of the North. The fabled grasses, and greens, she knew the young Princeling would be quite enchanted with this new land, the life he was refused within Jewelstine.

    --

    The morning came quick, a sharp rap on the door waking the two, though like the eager child Tinet was, Sabree was excitedly anticipating the morn. Quickly, they stood, washing the best they could with their meager water supplies left from the voyage, and dressing in salt-smelling clothes. Tinet wore a pair a long pants, unused to having his legs covered, as he often wore robes in the south, where it was forever warm. Even on the ship, the sea was warm, and he'd rarely felt chilled. Sabree insisted though, replacing her own raggedly clothes for her priestess gown once more. Simple and white, and clung close to her body, having not been completely deprived during the siege, but still, she'd suffered. Now, she'd filled back out, and it fit unmodestly, but not grotesquely tight. Placing the silver belt around her hips, she was not embarrassed, and led the young boy up onto the deck.

    The Sultan was there, seeming groomed, and presentable. He was a different man from the one last night, holding his chin high, and doing well at disguising those forsaken bags beneath his eyes. Rashah eyed Sabree, who'd dressed practically as a man during the brunt of their voyage, now once more in her proper attire, her eyes hard, bold, and daring, and untamed curls being settled around her head. He gave her a sort of grin, and she rolled her eyes, let him act proud, his head would be on a pike soon enough, and she'd see who the one laughing was then.

    The sailors bid Tinet and her a warm goodbye, much to Rashah's discontent, who hardly had a word spoken to him. On the docks, a company of a dozen armored men awaited them, to lead their guests to Orjota safely. Sabree saw it more as being a prisoner, but at least they were spared a barred wagon. A tall, slender man, wearing a prim black and golden uniform, was the first to meet them. He gave an impressive bow, his upright back level with the ground, and surprised Sabree when he took her hand and kissed the back before she had a chance to object.

    " Sultan Rashah Oligoshi, and Prince Tinet, I am Lord Elliot Giovan, of His Royal Majesties Inquisition. And you-..Lady?"

    " Sabree, I am Rashah's translator." She spoke with a flat, emotionless stare, the man did not quiver, nodding his head.

    "Wonderful, wonderful, That'll make things much easier, as our own translator became ill on the trip, I was hoping my own intuition might lead me through these blind conversations. I'm right to assume the Prince sent you along then? A brilliant young man, though, I'm afraid I have not made the proper preparations for a lady to be joining us..." As the man spoke, Tinet peered around the dock, and spotted a small mound of preserved a few feet away, with the fantastical and mysterious grass sprouting from it.

    Before Sabree could get a hold of him, the child wandered over to it, and knelt down, all delighted and smiling, as he picked at the slender leaves. From the corner of her eye, Sabree looked at him, and then back toward Lord Giovan, "Don't mind him, he's never seen grass before. And it does not matter, I can ride." She gave a charming smile, which the man met with his own slitted grin, looking to the boy, and at least attempting a laugh. Sabree wanted to mention that the boy hadn't seen much of anything, given his entire life was spent under siege, but she bit her tongue, and nodded like a well trained noblelady to his words.

    Elliot did not seem like an honest man, she had spoken to him for less then a minute, and she determined him to be a snake, and a liar. He was leading the three into the den of wolves, and held no guilt against it, " Ah, of course." He smiled as if amused, though mentally checking the boy, who looked so scrawny and sickly, it was an insult to the very title call him a Prince. "If you are sure, we'll be off as soon the Sultan is ready. I'd suggest enough clothes to last a few days in court, the rest of your belongings will follow after us."

    Sabree nodded, she'd expected such, and had a small bag of her own scant belongings, and some of Tinet's best clothes. She rattled it off to Rashah, who'd grunt, and look hardly at the Lord.

    " Don't think I don't know what you are up to, you devil, You stole my city, I'll be damned if you steal my clothes!" He pointed a threatening finger, Elliot looking alarmed at Sabree, who gave a bright smile, and translated.

    "The Sultan says, He'll be right back, he needs to grab some clothes! Don't mind his queer gestures, our cultures are quite differing." The Lord thought it barbaric, but it was fitting for these uncivilized sand-demons. He smiled though, watching the Sultan stomp off, and return with a briskly packed bag. He'd shoved as much stuff as he could carry into it, as well as valuables.

    Unwillingly, they were led to horses. Tinet was beyond excited to climb onto the beast, Sabree helping him up, and following after. In all honesty, she'd never rode a horse, but watching the other men, and the Sultan, she was a quick learner. The woman, stubborn as all hell, refused to admit her ignorance, and eventually was able to fletch out the basic commands. And so they began their journey, every tree, perhaps, building, and animal making the young boy squeal with joy, and Sabree happily obliged his clever, and curious mind.
    Last edited by CorinTraven; 03-19-2013 at 06:02 PM.

  5. #165
    The Witch King MohawkYeah's Avatar
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    Castle Orjota; The Scrying Chambers.

    Zarr remained silent as he entered the darkened room, there were no candles lit, the only time there were, was when Zarr entered, for only Zarr was to be within this room. Servants were never to enter unless called upon, Zarr preferred his privacy, particularly when taking council from the waif-like witch whom he entertained there in. He raised his right hand into the air in front of him in a flippant gesture, and two flames guttered to life from the crest of two pale white sticks of wax.

    Bronze fingertips glided across the top of the scrying table, beneath a wispy, grey clouds rotated in a delicate dance beneath the enchanted glass. He could sense her presence, that familiar, so alien, shadow within the room. The candles flicking lights stretched the shadows of the sparse furniture within the room, creating a false sense of space within the windowless room. Zarr payed Isa no heed for the time being, his hand gliding across the surface. Slowly the clouds began to part, and ripple, Isa's words lost as his pitch black gaze now held itself fully to the mysteries of the scrying table.

    "My son..." His voice was a low, entranced tone. An image began to appear on within the glass, the clouds continuing to recede, it was fuzzy, then the faintest outline of High Prince Dinarius came into view. The walls looked flimsy, and a dusky tone, likely an opulent tent, the image began to focus upon what in the fuzzy screen was supposed to be a bed. Upon was the a figure, figures, clothes appeared to be missing, and there was a an uncomfortable amount of movement. Before the image could focus itself, the image flashed dark black, then dark red. This forced a frown onto Zarr's face, his palm pressing into the cool glass now, loosing a jolt of his magical reserves.

    "Dammit, Dinarius, can you think with anything aside from your pants?" Zarr growled, awaiting for the image to return.

    Zarr loosed a choked exclamation as the image began to return, his jewel encrusted fingers, seemingly unable to pull away from the table. The image of Zarr now stared back at himself, stoic, looking stern and kingly. A moment later, in a speed that no human could ever manage, the image of Zarr grew terrible, teeth bared in a savage grin, his eyes polished stones of the void. Zarr himself stared into the scrying glass, his blood running cold, the image shifted, a hideous create was coming out of Zarr's visage now, his own, fleshy image melting away as if only a cocoon for what was breaking free. Horns, claws, and scarred flesh, took over the image, a terrifying visage of something truly evil staring back at Zarr now.

    "No!...no!" Zarr yelped, he was coming to his senses, ripping his hand from the scrying table. As quickly as the clouds had spread, they closed back over, gently swirling about as they always did. Zarr swallowed hard, the piece of flesh beneath his chin rising and falling, he started at his right hand as if it had been cut off, breathing heavily from what he had just witnessed. "You said...you said I would have mastery over all," Zarr's eyes were widened as he spoke, glancing over at Isa with an accusing glare. "And yet here I stand, unable to do what should be so simple for one as me to do..all because..."

    Zarr broke off again, loosing a shuddered breath and gathering himself. He swallowed once more, sniffing, and fixing a wrinkle in his shirt. "What news have you brought me in your absence?"

    Edge of the Low Fields, Mid-Day.

    They came in the darkest hour of the night, no moon was visible in the glittery void of the heavens, as the muffled steps of the rag-tag group of bandits, feared by local merchants for prowling the flatlands Akai doing his best to allow his elven frame to rest in the rocky, and exposed campsite. Akai had voted no when the subject of lighting a fire had been brought up, and so the two hapless travelers, shielded from the wind only by the smallest of rising knolls lay in the busied silence of the near winter night.

    A grimy, piggy-fingered hand clasped itself firm over top of Akai's mouth out of the blue, followed by hands shoving the elf's reactive forearms back into the earth. The air was promptly knocked out of the dazed Akai, and whispered shouts that could raise the dead began to ring out from darkened plains. Akai struggled in vain, before he could even think to bite the grimy hand over his mouth, a dirty rag was forced onto his lips and wrapped around the back of his head.

    Thunder rumbled in the distance, clouds, hidden from sight in the dark sky quickly streaming across the sky, and engulfing any natural light that still prevailed on the moonless eve. The shuffling sound of more boots, began to mingle with the scents of unwashed bodies, and low, unwelcoming laughter. Akai was shuffle onto his knee's, the torn, scratchy cloth he had been using for a blanket falling free, now the air could truly chill his exposed limbs. Green eyes flashed in the darkness, the initial shock gone now, they were thinking, calculating orbs of green, there would be a mistake, a weakness that he could expose. Unfortunately, this was hardly their first time raiding small groups of travelers, and they seemed to have covered all their bases for the time being. He would wait, bide his time, they hadn't slit his throat yet, that meant he was valuable, and that was a very good sign.

    Torches began to illuminate the sad plight of the two travelers. They were out numbered two, to ten at least. Rain now loosed itself freely onto the ground below, only making the situation even less comfortable. Thick, itchy ropes held Akai's wrists behind his back, the dingy cloth biting into the sides of his cheeks. Whether or not they realized, they had almost completely imconpacitated the elf, for with words, or movements he could hardly work his magicks. They had promptly taken his knife away, though that was likely more for monetary gain than any sense of worry. Elsa came into view now, his knee's growing muddy as two men hefted his wiry frame up, and moved him towards Elsa and a particularly roguish looking female. Elsa's voice rang in his ears, and he would have grimaced if not for that face he was well restrained, as he was led close he could see the two speaking, and caught snippets of their conversation.

    With a gruff hefting noise, the two men shoved Akai back onto his knee's near Elsa and the woman, the elf's breathes coming slow, and heavy. He offered Elsa the faint of head nods, and a muffled set of words that didn't amount much more than would have been a snarky greeting. He fixed his gaze upon the woman now, leering at her with his calculating gaze, he assumed this was the part where they did some sort of explaining. This likely had something to do with the terrible posters that they had seen only days before back in Orjota. He offered her a raised eyebrow and a tilted head, the best he could manage with the gag on his lips.
    Last edited by MohawkYeah; 04-02-2013 at 08:16 PM.
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  6. #166
    Queen Anastasia Elderon CorinTraven's Avatar
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    The Imperial Palace; Evening, Scrying Chambers.

    When he came back to his senses, Isa was at his side, seeming to lose any precaution, as her eyes focused onto the Scrying table; a parlor trick to her. Beady pupils glanced from the corner of her large, white lashed eyes, up toward the man who stood beside her. Zarr was shaken, scared even, and it provoked a bit bold curiosity from her. She'd never known him to be so easily unnerved. " Mastery over all? Impossible, you excel in your particular talents, and I excel in mine. No one man, a mortal man especially, can be the master of all magicks. They are too arcane, and their secrets well-kept. Some take a hundred years to learn, and a thousand more to master, others, you are born with a particular adeptness at, which no others hold. Scrying, though useful, is not essential, anyway, you've got too heavy of hands to truly ever master it." A toothy grin ended her statement, the heavy hand part wasn't an actual determining factor, but perhaps it may have some influence.

    "You wanted to see your son?" She'd not have to speak to the mirrored table, vanquishing the clouds as soon as her frail hands touched it, like a great wind forced them, revealing the glassy surface below. It rippled like water, and in seconds, an image filled the entirety of the table. Isa had spared his eyes, as they were still outside the flimsy, bright colored tent, silhouettes of bodily figures flickered in a dim flame, their shadows casting against the cloth walls. The Witch seemed to cringe, cocking a narrow eyebrow, " At least it looks like they're finishing up-.." She'd say hopefully. Daniaris, always the gentleman, at least seemed to hand the woman her clothes, before he pointed for her to get the fuck out of his tent. It was hardly dark outside, only a few stars dotting the dark blue horizon. The woman, who was obviously native when she'd come wandering out of the tent, still only half dressed, an army-officers cap poised atop a mountain of curly black hair.

    Through the shadow, they'd see Daniaris getting flustered, jumping hurriedly into a pair of pants, and throwing at least his shirt on, before rushing out after the girl. He caught up, and gave his whore a kiss. In the process, he also took the hat back, placing it upon his own dark locks, and giving a handsome smile at the woman, who waved her fingers and smiled back. Then, he returned to his tent and collapsed on his bed warily.

    Isa looked at Zarr, to determine his reaction before the table blurred, and returned to clouds, "Well-..that was, informative?" She'd snort, " Actually, your son has been quite productive. He's secured thirty-thousand caskets of gunpowder, enough to fuel a war that lasts a hundred years. Enough to collapse the entirety of Bal'Vold's mountain down onto its city. The mines are reopening, and apparently overflowing with more explosive. Any sort of rebellion has been quenched as quickly as they started, and order is maintained within the desert. He's doing surprisingly well." She'd decided early on, she'd start with the good news.

    " Your prisoners landed on Vennian soil yesterday, all three survived the journey. The Sultan, his son, and Daniaris sent a Priestess along with them, I believe to translate. Lord Giovan received them at Fair-Port and within the week, they should arrive in Orjota." She continued on with her little overview, having much to catch him up on.

    "And your soldiers are soon to follow, a majority of the fleet departed three days ago, though some lag behind. They're stockpiled with as much gunpowder as they can hold, and are well equipped to face any 'pirates' that might try and hinder their passing.

    "I've spoken with the different bandit groups throughout the plains, and they've all agreed take hostage our Elf and his street rat. The only issue, might be them fighting over their heads, which I advised to keep intact, at least the elf. I doubt the girl'll have much use, but I'd rather her live too, to find out how she got a hold of the eye.

    "In the south, the harvest is doing very well, and the Isle's are experiencing pleasant weather." She'd start dwindling down, then pipe up.

    She shifted a bit away, almost reluctant to say, "Oh, and in Bal'vold, your generals led an assault upon the city. All four major armies each singled out a door, to try and crush the city beneath their might. General Lestivsk managed to break through the Eastern Gate, unfortunately, he was the only one...and a majority of his troops were unable to retreat, slaughter ensued. Heavy loses,-..On both sides of course, but heftier on your own...I'd say, five thousand killed or captured, another two wounded. And the city barely suffered much damage...The tactic was flawed." Isa watched him intently, eager to see the emotion come in waves over his face, but prepared.

    " I almost forgot-...More pirate problems to the south, too, your grace.." Again, the title almost seemed mocking from her mouth.

    Edge of the Low Fields, Before Dawn.


    Upon seeing Akai dragged over, already bound and gagged, Elsa's stomach shriveled and fell deep within her gut. Her hands curled, untied and prepared to fight an impossible battle. Already one of these thugs was coming towards her, a heavy looking rope strung between his beaten hands. The woman let her own legs straighten beneath her, standing as quickly as she could, and looking for any chance of escape.

    There were none apparent to her, so she just tensed, and gave a foolish grin to the bastard coming toward her, " Did y'say the facking King's after us? Damnit Akai, we're famous!" She gave a mirthless laughter, dry and pitchy. Both hands came out as a sign of surrender, and the bandit advanced eagerly, "Guess there's no use fighting then..." The elf would probably easily see her plan falling into place, she looked to smug to give in. Personally, she thought her idea to be flawless, but with nearly a dozen armored bandits surrounding her, it was far from perfect.

    He took her bait though, coming forward to tie her hands, but the woman being quicker, tugging back, and trying for a spastic break for it. For half a second, it may look like she was going to do it too, but it crumbled into dust as soon as it'd been hatched. Before Elsa got as far as two feet, a hunk of wood serving as a bludgeon was brought hard against the back of her head, and she collapsed into the ground with a thud. A few laughs were shared between the thieves, who must of anticipated it, teasing the first man she'd gotten by. He took it with a sour temper, kneeling down by the unconscious rogue, and binding her hands and feet. He pulled the heavy necklace from around her throat too, pursing his lips and 'Oohing' at the unusual find.

    " Jip said that the Witch told 'um 'bout a necklace, I wouldn't mess wid' it, Eddel." A nameless voice from the crowd called toward the brute, he gave a bat of his hand, and put the jeweled necklace around his own fat neck. He grabbed onto Elsa with a thick hand, half dragging her toward the backside of a horse, and gesturing for two of the bandits to carry Akai in the same fashion.

    If not stopped, that's throw him onto a horse, and leave their campsite as quickly as they came. Elsa was unconscious until late in the morning, but when she did wake, it was in a makeshift camp, under the shade of a sparse and dead tree with several bodies milling around her. She half strangled herself trying to sit up, both arms tied behind her, and her legs bound in a similar fashion, they'd been sure to leash her to the tree, the heavy rope tightening about her throat when she'd struggled up. Finally, she figured to move closer to the tree, seeing Akai bound in a similar fashion a few feet away, uncomfortable gags covering both their mouths, and a guard posted specifically to keep watch over them.

    There must of been a hefty price on their head for these bandits to have them secured so thoroughly. Elsa tried to speak for a few minutes, but only earned a spit-soaked rag, and a kick to the head. Instead, she was left with her thoughts, and they were never good company. She tried to exchange looks with Akai, questioning glances, expectant of him to find some way of escape. Her plan had failed, and so she was out of ideas, it was his time to shine! With more then two dozen blood-thirsty bandits around them, it'd be no easy feat. There was still at least fifty miles of plain left as well, and they'd been lucky to make it thus far with only scratches.

    Hopeless, Elsa stared at the sky, and idly wondered what awaited them back in Orjota. She doubted it'd draw the King's attention if it was just them robbing the Inquisition, and Akai being an Elf was a possibility, but that had nothing to do with her.

    A mile offshore of Delyi; Dead of Night.

    It was black as the grave, their ships bobbled, indiscernible from the inky waters, ghastly shadows on the unmarked horizon. Drewery thanked the gods for the cloudy skies, and for the calm sea, for it'd make their little invasion much easier. Ten small ships had traveled to the port city. All together, five hundred men and boys manned these ships, armed with pikes and swords, and having the experience of a single lieutenant between the lot of them. There was no time for grief however, she rejoiced for five hundred men, and with a little luck, that'd be all they needed to raze Deyli's Inquisition. With their anchors cast, and a few good men left behind, they rowed the rest of the way to shore. It was truly a stealthy beginning, men packed onto small row boats in the dozens, each as silent as they could be while the oars dipped into the black water. They hoped to keep the city guard unalerted at least until most of their men had docked upon the rocky beaches. It'd seem their wish could true, because when the first man yelled warning upon sighting them, he was quickly overcome, and it was already too late.

    The rebels had no cannons, nor gunpowder, but all that was about the change. Their Commander, Raeleyn Drewery had warned them to not ransack any homes, but the government buildings and seats of authority were to be burned, and any sort of weapons stolen. People were roused from their beds to hear the beating of hundreds of feet through their city. Many were frightened, but the enemy continued by their homes, and instead, the heavy doors of His Majesties Inquisition were knocked down before there was anything to be done about it. Fire soon burned any cloth or otherwise flammable material, and the fight for Delyi was short lived. The guards did not compose themselves in force until nearly a half hour after Drewery had landed on their beaches, and by then the seat of the Inquisition had been purged.

    Drewery walked with a score of men at her heels, a mad grin on her face, and her blade held within her gloved hand. It was as if she'd already beaten the brunt of Zarr's army, and victory was upon her. Truly, they'd only rattled their swords, and this victory was not physical, but one of significance elsewhere. It'd not make a dent in his forces, though it would secure a few good cannons and leave a message. That's what it was intended for in the first place, to remind their lovely King that his tyrannical regime would tremble and cease beneath the Ivaylo. More importantly, beneath Drewery and her men.

    The hallway was long, and furbished with the usual colors of black and gold, different forms of artwork covering the stone walls. At the end, a large door stood, and inside, Raeleyn expected to meet Lord Flavak Flaverick (FLAVA' FLAAV), Minister of the Inquisition, and overseer of Deyli. He was also renowned for his parents poor choice of a name. She was not disappointed when she forced the door open, the two feverish men standing guard given only a second to submit. One was quick to throw down his sword, the other was slaughtered. Then the door was forced open, and inside a tall, gaunt faced man stared with overlarge blue eyes. He looked quite harmless, wearing a sort of smile upon his guests, though often he rubbed his hands together, and stared up at the company that greeted him.

    " You're not the sort I expected-...Pirates, I heard, you don't look like a pirate to me." He blinked, looking Raeleyn Drewery over. It took him a second to realize she was a woman, and then, he almost choked on his laughter, "The God's truly are a humorous bunch, don't you think?"

    They might be, but Drewery was not. She stood with a blank face, her men shuffling in behind her while the surrendered Inquisitor stood outside, staring at the corpse of his comrade, and reflecting, " We're not pirates, Lord Flaverick. I'm sorry to disappoint you. Now, I need you to listen, because it is quite important for you to remember this next thing.." She paused, the man looking up, and cocking a thick eyebrow.

    "Oh? Not pirates-..than what are yo-"

    He was interrupted by her sharp voice, commanding, "I am getting there, if you'll listen. We are the Ivaylo, I am Commander Raeleyn Drewery, and I head our rebel army." The men behind her able to see through a huge window to his back as several parts of the city were burning. However, no houses were to be burned- Atleast not by her men; to many's surprise, a few of the people in the shadier districts had rouse up to join in on the pillaging, and they helped tear flag and insignia down. In the center of the city, there was a great bonfire of who knew what, and ant-life fingers danced and ran about it, the city was in total chaos now, and Raeleyn had lost any sort of control on what burned and what stood. Their message had been delivered though, and if the civilians worked themselves into a riot, it was hardly of her concern.

    " We work for liberation from the tyranny of the Witch King-..." His high laugh made her pause, but he waved.

    "Oh, I apologize, do go on. Please, I would love to hear your plans to up-heave the throne. With your half-baked army, and your self-proclaimed Commander. I am sure the King has nightmares of such-..." He gave a grin, and Raeleyn's eyes narrowed to slits.

    She was able to control her temper however, giving a cold smile, " Unfortunately, I still must keep such details a secret, however, I am sure the King will have questions to what happened, and you, the ever attentive dog, will have answers. We are the Ivaylo, don't forget the name, and this is the beginning of our rebellion." The Lord did not seem to take it so seriously, grinning stupidly, and Raeleyn just turned away. "Roddrick, leave our mark."

    "With pleasure, Commander." A larger man stepped forward, and the Lord's voice spiked.

    "What do you mean?"

    She looked over her shoulder, giving a sort of smile, cold and emotionless, "We can't have the King thinking the ever-loyal servant turned on him, think of it as a favor. We cannot just leave you unscathed and expect it not to raise some suspicion. Have you not heard what happened to the Governor of Osi? An unfortunate fate, undoubtedly. Men, I believe we've secured a sizable amount of gunpowder and cannons-...we'd be best to take our leave soon."

    The man was backing up, the vagueness in Raeleyn's voice scaring him far more than any threat, "That'll be nothing!"

    "What?" She stopped for a moment, the first sign of confusion passing her face.

    "Did you not hear? The gunpowder you'll take, it's nothing. Jewelstine has fallen, and they say the King now has enough explosives to fuel a thousand wars. You have nothing." He seemed content from the dumb look Raeleyn gave him, for a moment, he knew that was a surprise to her.

    It did not change the fact that she turned away, a few men murmuring, and a whole new dynamic having been revealed to her. With the war over in the South-..it'd be only a matter of time before Bal'Vold fell too. They would need to strike fast, and soon, if they ever wanted a chance of defeated the Witch King and his armies.

    There was one battle that she worried about presently though. She had to gather up the remainder of her men, and they had a short time to return to their island, and truly prepare themselves. She'd seen the people rise, joining their cause, she knew that news would spread fast, and hoped any seed of rebellion that was sewn today would sprout and grow. They would need more then five hundred men to win a war, the Sultan Oligoshi had supposedly thirty-thousand, and yet Jewelstine had fallen, and the armies were returning to Venn. Time was running short.

    --

    Raeleyn was surprised that more men returned to the ships than had embarked. Though plenty of her original force had perished, they brought back men freed from the King's jails. Many were convicted on such charges and murder, and thievery, but deep within the gut of the Inquisition, others were held on treason. She'd meant to free those men-..the less savory bunch of thieves and vagabonds, that'd been a surprise to her. No bother though, the numbers would help. Other types found themselves sailing off, overtaken by the excitement, and now they were leaving Delyi behind, for an uncertain dawn within the rebel's army.
    Last edited by CorinTraven; 04-05-2013 at 06:36 PM.

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