Dinh AaronMk — Roleplayer Guild

Gaia

The Crossroads

	Emiens the youth, hiding in his trees and shrouded in gentle gray fog, woke to a new day with a yawn. His morning went about like the normal business. With his knife strapped to his side he carefully set out into the woods, searching over his shoulder as he sought breakfast among the brushes and the branches. The great sky beast, with the trailing streamers returned. Hidden, he figured it would not see him. It remained motionless among the gentle waves of the evaporating mist. And from the dark shade of the trees he watched it. He had by now realized what it was by now. It was definitely a ship, immense in size and carried about by a plump sack, like a wine skin. It sailed about the winds with great sails like fish fins. It recognized it for its beauty. But yet still feared for the evil intent it no doubt signaled. So he stayed away. It seemed to hang about, as if waiting for someone, perhaps any allies. He wondered what race could pilot such a thing. But he could only imagine the pegasi of his home, or the griffons who would often appear to start trouble.

	Things changed later that evening when he returned to his bed in the tree. The magical gate crackled and groaned, the air around it charged with new magical energies. Its fabric disturbed by a great force that signaled something very large on the way. He held his breath, hoping to see another ship in the sky emerge and perhaps send the other away. But to his surprise an army with spears raised and armor gleaming stepped out, heavy beards dragging across burly chests as an entire armored force of squat men marched through. Within moments the ruined square was host to the drumming foot falls of units at march. They saw the looming airship over head.

	The commander of such a vehicle, perhaps set the sails and disappeared at the sight of the amassing host. As they wandered about, filling the immense plain Emiens watched them come closer to the forest's edge. They clearly had no idea what to do now that they arrived. They knew not this world. They gawked at everything. The sight of their weapons made the youth's skin go cold. Against the long pikes and armor these strange men his little knife could do scant anything. He knew he had to run. But the dreaded curiosity for the unfolding events was magnetic. His retreat was pausing and uncertain. He milled in the general direction away, turning to watch the assembling host, whose banners now made them clearly visible in the field. He began to hear the voices among the trees and he became terrified, the fear pulsing from his heart burned at his toes and his fingers. But the general unknown of the world about his stayed him. Soon the sound of axes fell through the forest and the crashing of trees would soon begin and Emiens could not stay. The force of the momentum of the flood of squat men burned like a forest fire and he was finally pushed on by the smoke of their falling axes. They would surely cut his hiding place now, there was nothing back to go to, although there was little from and for him there; especially now. He moved on, hoping to avoid the hot embers of falling blade and the dangerous reach of any outstretched hand if they found him. He feared their enslavement. He feared being killed by them,

	He did not know where the airship had gone. But he reached their same conclusion: it was time to leave. This army will soon sweep over the area to take all it could to feed its mouth and who knew what it would do next. There was only one thing for Emiens to do: to go deeper into Gaia.

Neveau d'Epiune

Clairmont, Nouveillie Machauex

	The Fleu d'Royal divided the city of Clairmont. Rising above its sandy flow rose the tenements of the city and the warehouses of the docks that dotted the river's span. Under the dim pale-blue light of early morning, just before the warm light of the sun emerged from over the cloudy horizon the city-scape, still and listless appeared gray. At the wooden and stone piers boats of all forms and shapes rocked and rolled as the gentle current swept by them. Long stone alleyways and the cobbles of the main streets marched up the gentle sloping banks shrouded in the cool waking gown of morning. Narrows appeared still dark as if in night and the store of grocers and cobblers and blacksmiths were shuttered against the street. Here and there, a few cats roamed. But all was quiet.

	And it all would be quiet, had the trade of the day not begun early. Behind iron gates at a private docks lit lanterns signaled busy activity as men moved about, transporting crates and barrels aboard a large red yacht. Even in the immature morning light, the golden auburn trim of its hulk shone brightly and the amber insets glittered in the soft light of the smoldering yellow-green lights. Despite the cold of the morning, and the barely dispersed mist burning off the water of the river the sailors and stevedores wore their workshirts, light coarse linens that flowed light off their shoulders, tucked into long corduroy jean trousers. With their breaths still smoke on the cold air they loaded down the yacht for its impending voyage, joined side by side with the escuiers and knights who were to set out on their voyage aboard.

	The red yacht at port, measuring at 30 meters long was a rich sight that dominated the wide  Fleu d'Royal with its citrus-yellow sails burning with the light of the sun. With soaring masts, it towered above the buildings nestled up against the shore of the river and could itself nearly triumph in size against the large barques and galleys that sailed up and down the river and out to sea. Its aft castle swept out behind it, shading the dock itself. There the detachment of knights would sleep, separate from the crew and escuiers below the deck. They would dine with the captain and crew as comrades in the service Bagouyne, whose heraldric dragon emblazoned the corners of the castle.

	Standing at the gang plank, supervising the last of the on-boarding stood Prince-Baron of Bagouyne Armil Jean-Donatien Clairon Bagouyne. Tall, broad shouldered he was an athletic figure. A long navy blue tunic, cross threaded with red trailed down to the back of his knees where he showed off strong sportly calves with thick white breeches, black trousers cut short tied off below the knee in the culotte style. Dark hair curled out from under a cap of triangular cloth that crowned his head, falling down the side of his head where it was overtaken in the lion's mane that round his head like a halo. He clenched his jaw nervously as he checked off the last of the supplies to board. Now was coming a moment of finality he was long told was expected to arrive. The opening of the gate was long a legend pre-destined to happen eventually, and all were excited to see it happen. But now that it was, those temperaments were feeling deflated, anxious. He scratched the bottom of his round chin as the last case was loaded and it was time to set sail, closing the folio he made his strides to encounter destiny.

	As he walked aboard the boat he thought about the inventory for the mission, wondering if he had enough. Much of it was to pay tolls and fees for whatever accommodations they would need on arrival. Silver and gold livre, casks of wine and preserves of fruit. Precious stones and handy trinkets, anything that may be passed off quickly to purchase a sheep or a cow, or secure lodging in a manor house or even peasant's hovel. These rents and other things needed to be paid and were he to run out the negotiations for credit, and his creditors would know how much the family owned. He found himself stressed more for the burden of finance and interest than he was for the portal. Perhaps the trans-dimensional magic was far too ephemeral than trade and finance.

	Joining him on deck was the captain. A proper looking horse, standing chest high to the young prince and with a iron gray look in his eyes. His chin unshaven, brows heavy. He likewise wore a cloth cap that held much of his disheveled mane. He bowed his head to Armil, “We're reading to set loose.” he intoned plainly.

	“I think you're right.” Armil replied, “When you're ready, captain.”

	The old sea horse smiled and turned away to set the crew to work. As the gang plank was raised the ropes were loosened and the crew pushed the boat off. Crew with oars navigated the yacht to the center of the empty river, just now beginning to populate with the first signs of life as the fishermen emerged to send their boats out to the lake. But besides the fish men, their was little to no one else, and the yacht had full monopoly of the water and the crew used every bit of their presence to speed down the current and head down river. Down they went passed empty promenades and still temples and waking apartments as the first golden gleams of morning life woke up. The sun rising over the horizon casting long shadows over the sandy yellow river and illuminated the towers the guarded the Fleu d'Royal at the city's limit.

	There at the edge of the city, before the walls met the river the Castle of Purgoin stood on its island. The boat sailed cleanly under the tall high flying bridges that connected the island with the city on either side of the river. From its battlements high above on the rock peak the watch was mid-change. The lights or the night watch being extinguished with the rotation of the guard.

	They left the city. Orchards and farmer's fields butted right up to the walls of the city. On one side pasture for cattle rolled up the slopping shore and over the hills. The cows had been just let out to graze on the dewy green grass. Armil heard the heavy sounds of boots to his side. He turned to find Sieur Guy Longue, a taller older knight under his charge. Guy had trained him once, when the young man was a child. But now by virtue of birth the older man was pledged to serve the younger. He leaned against the gunnel and gazed out down the long sandy river with a steady calm eye. The breeze ruffled his silver beard as he searched the waters ahead. The two stood there at the bow for some time in silence. The landscape changed, the hills softening and stretching out more and more until their crowns were flush with the horizon.

	“What are you thinking about?” Guy asked in a low voice, turning ever so slightly towards his former charge. While low, his voice was not damning or bare any accusation to Armil. He was worried for the young man, and sensed something was wrong with him.

	For a time Armil was quiet, thinking about exactly what it was he was so worried for. He tried several responses on himself but could not bring them to his lips. At last he said rather sheepishly, “I'm wondering if this is the end.” he said.

	“What make you say that?” Guy asked.

	“As the legends say, the opening of the portal came at a time of worldly destruction that chased us through. But what if that's what's to happen here, now?”

	Guy Longue looked about with a heavy searching expression on his face. Looking over the hills, the forests in the distance, and the marshy shore of the river. The ducks in the stream and the splashing of carp in the water just beneath the wash of the ship as it sailed along. “Well, I don't see that here and now.” he said finally, “I don't think so.”

	“But, we have to still go back through, do we?” Armil asked, “It's still... home, so to speak. Isn't it?”

	“Do you love where you were born?”

	“Yes I do. What else would I do with it. I know no other land.”

	“Then this land is home as far as I can say and I don't think even Parlement can tell you otherwise.” he said with a smile. “I'd hazard that even they won't be so eager to send us all through. How are they, as we, to know it's not just some other land beyond our own. Who's to say where ever it may go is our homeland. How are we to know?”

	Armil thought for a moment. He didn't have an answer to his question. “I suppose so.” he said, “But this changes everything.”

	“I was the same way when I was married.” Guy laughed, “Now I am the father to three sons, would've been more if I was not sent out more often.” he laughed again, and reached a hand under his long blue coat and opened a leather bag on his hip. He pulled from it a chunk of cheese and started cutting it with a small silver knife from a black pouch on the other side of his hip. Offering out a piece he asked, “Cheese?”

	“Thank you.” Armil said, receiving the gift of cheese.

	“Man suffers many important changes of life and I no doubt believe so do people as a whole.” Guy began in a low voice again, setting aside the humor of just a moment ago, “It's just the way things go. Do you think every knight the realm over, human, elf, equinite felt paralyzing fear when some great war broke out, or some immense tragedy? Do we stop what it is we are doing to hide ourselves from the monstrous face of fear?”

	Hesitant, Armil chewed on his cheese. He knew the answer but didn't want to say it. Both out of anxiety, and because of the treat. Finally: “No.” he swallowed.

	Guy Longue nodded sagely, “When you were my escuier did you ever hold yourself back when I dragged you from adventure to adventure?”

	“No.”

	“So why stop now?” Guy asked, “We are only at the threshold to another adventure, another battle like we have fought before. We don't even need to cross over the precipice. As I understand it: we are just observing and reinforcing.”

	“That we are.”

	“So that is not a thing to be afraid of.” Consoled the old knight, “You have at your pack a fair dozen or more or so, I have not really counted number of strong capable and loyal retainers to your father, your family, and you. All men ennobled in their lives in their service to your majesty. I think even if they were told they were to enter the portal, they would do so at your back. All of us are in this moment are your escuiers. We bare your shield, your sword, and the flag of your house. With so many lives sworn to you, your honor, the prince, there is no fear. There no number of men, elf, and equinite more noble and majestic in their nature than us.”

	“So you are not afraid?” Armil asked.

	“How could I be it's not my duty here to worry about what comes next.” he said with a laugh that could break the cold, “And I put my faith in many things. All I must worry about is the next step and that is simply us going to Isle d'Gourard and I have no problem with that. So sail on, sail faster even. Any day we step on ancestral ground is a good day!”
Dinh AaronMk Member

my beloved (french coded)

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