Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Goldeagle1221
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Goldeagle1221 I am Spartacus!

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Party time with Jim and William


Jim raised a perplexed brow at the sudden interruption by the armored stranger, then the second brow when the Harnarthian prince jumped in to interject the sudden accusations of the noble fashion critic.

The Marmon king lowered his head and rested his fingertips on the bridge of his nose as if pinching it in thought. He slowly lifted his head back up, letting his hand slid down to his chin, which he began to stroke as if in thought, keeping his eyes attentive to his conversationalist guests. He felt a sudden brushing of a hand on his side and he turned with a surprised and silent spin of the waist and was handed a folded piece of paper by the beautiful lady from earlier. With a smiling nod and a quick interlocking of fingers the woman took her leave. Jim pocketed the note and turned back to the scenario that was laid before him, returning to his confused stare.

How interesting ” , He thought to himself as he kept his stare consistent, breaking it with quick curved lips showing acknowledgement when appropriate to passerby.
William smiled and patted the hilt of his stolen blade, “Riding has always been a passion of mine, it is only fitting one does what they love.”

With a nod and a quick smacking of the lips, retrieving any food stuck to his teeth William pursed his lifes in a feigned thought, noticing the small welcoming party surround Jim, “So how are you liking the party?” William questioned while picking up two au d’oeuvres and offering one politely to Asurar with a friendly gesture.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by LancerDancer
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LancerDancer

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Adjutor Insula


Good and Evil. Honour and Ambition


Gombas awoke to the crash of lightning in his legs and a blazing fever in his mind. His eyes forced themselves to open through a thick layer of sleep dust, and watery shapes floated across his vision. The bed he was laying on, although comfortable, jolted with every second. He quickly realised he was still in his carraige, but before he could ask what was happening, a damp cloth smothered his face.

"Blurgh," he spat, using arms full of lead to beat off his attacker.

"Captain, the Templar awakens," comes the stern voice of a woman.

"Move aside," it is the Captain to whom Gombas entrusted his life. "Templar, can you hear me?"

"Yes," Gombas said with a cracked tongue. "Water."

There was some comotion before the cold clay of a water jug reached his lips, and a pair of mailed gloves hoisted him upright. It was at that moment, this his hip ignited in a blazing array of pain and damnation.

"Faran's bowels," Gombas shot, wincing with the intense burn of a fractured hip. "Am I dying?"

"Perhaps," the woman said, moving in to bat his face with the wet cloth once more. "Your hip is fractured, along with your knees and shins. If your blood does not suffer the taint, then you may live, but will never walk again." She said matter-of-factly.

Gombas was an old man on a divine mission. He needed no legs where he was going. "Where are we?" He asked.

"Approaching Love's dockyard, where the King is mustering his army," the Captain replied.

"You are turning me in, Captain?" Gombas asked with a sigh of sadness.

"No," the Captain replied. He stood from the bench of the carraige, and waved a hand over a wooden rail. Templar Gombas could not see what was being pointed at, but he suddenly became aware of a thousand beating feet upon crafted concrete. "We're going to war, Templar, to end this madness once and for all."

"We must not drive our country into civil war," Gombas said, sitting himself further upright despite the pain. He fixed the Captain's blue eyes through his visor. "I will speak to the King, before the soldiers. He must allow me that much. I will show them what he is, and they will no longer follow."

The Captain shook his head; a patronising yet hysterical grin hidden behind his helm. "It is too late for words I'm afraid. Even if the King were a mass child rapist, fear has swept our country like a plague. Everyone looks to Marcus for their safety; vows have been forgotten, lessons burned. Holy men now reach for the sword, and the less savoury, reach for a sceptre. Our country is ended, Templar, lest we can stop the King here and now."

A single tear rolled from Gombas' left eye. "That I should live, to see this come to pass. How can so much happen in such little time? Centuries of institutions, charity, love and preaching smashed by an evil man's lust for power."

"All should fear evil men, Templar Gombas, for they oft cause the end of many things," the Captain said, but then he leaned forwards. "But there is a greater evil, that we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men."

"I have little love for philosophy now, Captain," Gombas muttered. "My people will murder themselves, and the carrion will pick the remains. Dump me from this carriage, so that I may die like the broken fool I am."

The Captain shook his head. "I cannot. You have stirred the last of the Insula's true guardians to action, Templar. I have spread the word of Lady Aticus' condition quickly, and many are outraged. Furthermore, the King was unwise to disband the order. Thousands flock to your banner, and Faran willing, I will lead them to victory in your stead."

"No," Gombas sobbed, suddenly losing control of his emotions. "No one dies on my behalf. No one. Kill me. Pursue your own designs for death and destruction, but do not use me as an excuse. Faran guide me!"

"War is happening, whether you like it or not, Templar. I will save this land, and it pains me that your mind, like your body, has broken. Rest easy, Templar, for I understand your suffering," the Captain said with finality. He turned to dismount the carriage.

"Wait!" Gombas cried, and the Captain turned his head to the side. "Take me to the King. If I cannot end this travesty with words, then you may end it with the sword."

The Captain sighed.
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Dinh AaronMk
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Dinh AaronMk my beloved (french coded)

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Bapa River

Dark river water lapped gently along the hull of the acorn-shaped canoe. The oarsman stood over Affurendi, pushing and turning in his rough scabbed hands the long pole that pushed against the silty bottom of the river. The water was still here, almost as much as a pond. It flowed gently alongside them, sparkling in the evening sun. The reflection of the golden light on the water's surface was the only real indication of the river's flow and that it was not all dead.

The banks of the river rested large twisted trees, their knotted bark contorting in fractal shapes as they twined and danced into the smooth hands of the outer boughs. Massive leaves the size of dinner plates hung heavy with brown fruits and flocks of birds. Affurendi watched as the chirping and cawing finches and ravens darted in the soft shadows of the watery groves' kingdoms.

“You hear of the winds, goa?” the raftsman said in a voice held as still as the water's surface. The old satyr looked up at him, the oarsman stared off down river, his eyes still and a conversationalist's smile on his face.

“I'm afraid I haven't paid attention.” the Overroomi said, “Which is a shame.”

“T'is, goa.” his ferryman laughed, “There's a saltiness on its breath. Bantui-Moa no doubt wants us to know something is up. But I don't think her words are as clear as they could. I would speak with the shaman in Tonbo if I had the time.”

“We'll have to see if you have that.” Affurendi smiled politely.

“What about you? You have time to meet with them?” he asked.

“Oh, I doubt it.” shrugged Affurendi, his gaze turned indifferently to the trees. The dominance of the mangroves were beginning to wane as thickets gave way to grassy banks. Indifferent buffalo and rhino watched the travelers on from the far banks. “I have business that's important. I don't think I will have time.”

“That is unfortunate to hear, goa.” the ferryman sighed, “Someone told me the day before we left off that he was told they think the wind is a signal of fire. Beyond the grasslands, on the sea and beyond. He said that earlier a friend of his cousin's brother had found the remains of foreign vessels on the shore.

“Now I'm not saying I know anything about the ocean,” he added, “but I do imagine if what's left of zouma vessels are landing on our shore then something is up.”

“Well that sounds like something worth getting to the bottom of.” Affurendi said indifferently, “How much longer to Tonbo?”

“Bait a day. The last checkpoint is on the bend ahead. We'll let off for the night there.”
Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Dinh AaronMk
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Dinh AaronMk my beloved (french coded)

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Hidden 10 yrs ago Post by Lunamaria
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Lunamaria

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**Meely Plantation** After the Hanarthian men had been allowed to wash and eaten, Lucille Meely sat down with them in the large gathering room. Satisfied, she had personally ordered her servants to rid the men of their muck and dirt from weeks of travel. Then, she had ordered their food prepared. As of result, the men had eaten like Manathian Upperclass, treated with many plates of the most delicious food at hand. She cared for these foreign strangers, like they were her brothers. This was how she thought of them. She wondered how their journey through the lands of Hanarth had been. What had these men seen through their travels? Now, she sat next to the eldest of the Hanarthian men. Bowing her head, she spoke. "Tell me. What news do you bring for the kingdom of Manas, which I represent? It is true. I am not my mother, the Queen of Manas. But I can tell you about her. I know how she thinks. I can tell you what policies, laws, and ideas she will find acceptable. Please accept me as her representative." === **Coastal Dockyards, Northern Manas** Ser Rolan hated the pirates. Maybe it's because they harassed the shipping lines, or maybe he just grew tired of hearing of them. Everyday, it was about the pirates. The damn Cicilian pirates who couldn't be stopped, who always got what they wanted, and had innumerable resources. The damn pirates! He hated those ruthless scum of the earth, and rightly so! He wanted to tear them apart, each and every one of those low lifes until they were all dead. Rolan growled at the scene before him. The yard workers were in full force, moving essential containers and boxes in preparation for the Imperial fleet's sortie to finally get rid of the pirates. All around him, the dock was filled with imperial ships, wooden galleons crewed by hundreds of men each. The ramming fleet was tasked to head towards the Cicilian seas north of Manas and rid the pirate presence once and for all. Oh, how much he hated them! He hated what they had done to his mother. His mother had been traveling with a band of merchants when her ship had been ambushed by Cicillian pirates. The damn pirates had demanded ransom and Rolan had paid with all he had. The only thing Rolan had gotten back was his mother's skull. The pirates had killed her! They had raped and killed her! He wanted to destroy them! To mutilate their bodies -- each and every one. He longed for the day when their entire fleet would be defeated. He longed for their deaths. He wanted each and every one of them to suffer like he had, like the pain they had inflicted on his mother. "Pirates..." mumbled Rolan. "Captain," said a voice. "What?" Rolan twisted around and stared straight into the eyes of his wife of four months. Cecillia Rolan was a tall blonde woman with bright almond eyes. She wasn't pretty by any far stretch of the imagination, but she was strong and well built. Tough. The fact that her name coincided phonetically with the Cecillian pirates gave the whole situation an ironic slant. But by gods, she was helping him hunt those outlaws, and he could use any help he could get! "Captain, the dock commander says they're short on fresh water and meat. They state that it'll take a couple of days for the supplies to be rerouted through the nearest supply base." Ser Rolan growed in disdain. "... I'm afraid, Captain," continued Cecillia Rolan, "that we won't be able to sail with the main fleet when it leaves port tomorrow. We'll be a couple of days short." Ser Rolan couldn't hide his anger. How dare they? How dare they keep his ship out of the main fleet when the fleet starts sailing? "It's okay, my love," growled Ser Rolan, "we can catch up with the main the fleet later after they set sail. At most, we'll be three -- four days behind. It's not like we're stranded on an island without a means of travel. She's a fast ship -- this Pinafore," Ser Roland grinded his teeth. Cecillia nodded. "Am I dismissed?" "Not at all, dear. While you're here, can you give a report on the crew?" "They're clear-headed and ready, sir..." At times, Ser Rolan couldn't distinguish the person in front of him from his wife and his first officer. "Continue..." "... They're ready as they'll ever be. Crew morale is high ever since our expeditionary forces captured that pirate turncoat who revealed the location of the main pirate base. I personally watched our knight interogators torture the lights out of him until he finally gave us the information we wanted." "Excellent," Ser Rolan couldn't help but start smiling. "At last, we will smash those bastards alive and make their nest a grave for eternity. Tell the dock workers to hurry up. I want to roundevouz with the main fleet as soon as possible after they leave before us. Oh, and dear?" "Yes?" Cecillia Rolan's large almond eyes with blue irises looked straight at Ser Rolan. He loved it. He loved the way his wife looked when she was concentrating. "Do tell Admiral Jezalt that we'll be late and we'll be trailing behind the main fleet because of a supply deficit. Convey the message, dear." She nodded. "Will do, sir --- I mean, my husband." She grinned and picked up her blue sailor's cap. "Is that all?" "Not yet," said Ser Rolan. "Have you noticed something strange lately?" "No, sir. I haven't. What do you mean?" Ser Rolan pondered. "Like misplaced items. Things that are rearranged. Items on tables where they shouldn't be. Have you heard any strange noises?" "No, sir. I must say I haven't. And I take it you have?" "I don't know," Ser Rolan dug into his memory. "I may have heard it. I may not have. It may just be my imagination." "These noises... you mean on board this ship?" asked Cecillia. "Yes," Ser Rolan nodded. "Shall I ask the crew what they think -- whether they've heard any mysterious noises or slight discrepancies such as misplaced items?" Ser Rolan nodded. "It wouldn't hurt if you did. We definitely have enough time now that we are waiting for supplies to get any.... odd occurances sorted out." "Yes, sir. I will ask the crew if they've seen anything odd." Ser Rolan smiled. "One more thing." "Yes?" asked Cecillia. "From now on, when we are alone together, you don't have to call me sir. You can drop the formalities. We are married after all." Cecillia paused a moment. "I'll try doing that, sir -- I mean, nevermind. It's hard when you're my captain and commanding officer. When we're both dressed in our naval black and blues, I can't help it." "Try," Rolan grinned. "You're dismissed, my love." Cecillia nodded and blew a kiss then exited the high deck. For a brief moment, Ser Rolan enjoyed the thought of basking in the comfort of his wife and fellow shipmate. For a moment, he was at peace. But when that moment passed, ill thoughts and anger flowed once again in his veins. The second he started thinking about the pirates, his mood dropped to another low. His anger... he wanted to control it but he couldn't. He kept thinking about how his mother died, how he would never know whether they killed her first before decapitating her or whether they killed her by decapitating her. He would never know how much pain his mother suffered. He wanted to capture this pirate who decided his mother wasn't worth the investment to keep alive any longer, that it was a better idea to send her skull to her son, even though the ransom money had already been given. He wanted to find this pirate and torture him until the very last moments of this pirate's life was filled with the same pain and misery that had wrecked Ser Rolan's consciousness for the past year and a half. He wanted to get this pirate... and all of this pirate's accomplices... and skin them alive. "I will get you. I will find you. I will have my revenge," he said, as he stared out from port at the horizon of endless blue ocean.
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