Are the Devos' allowed to leave their compounds during a certain hours of the day for specific reasons? Suppose they get a special permission pass to leave, or they're known for good behavior or cooperation. Or are they limited to remaining within the compounds at all times?
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Are the Devos' allowed to leave their compounds during a certain hours of the day for specific reasons? Suppose they get a special permission pass to leave, or they're known for good behavior or cooperation. Or are they limited to remaining within the compounds at all times?
House Landry of Fallow Hill
Thoughts on the names and crest?
I like the name and crest, however, Fallow Hill doesn't make much sense. Fallowing was the act of leaving a field unsown for a growing cycle in order for the farmland to regain its fertility. Perhaps something similar but different? Such as Hallow Hill, which would mean Holy Hill meaning the place was a site of religious significance? Or even Shallow Hill which would be a descriptor for the local landscape?
As yet another interested party I would be very interested both the Stormland option and the Riverlands, however, considering the growing number of interested folk I don’t see why both can’t be on the table? Maybe they could even be rivals?
No no no, you misunderstand me. A train engineer is someone who controls it, like a train's pilot.
Mm, I was thinking like a locomotive engineer.
Keep in mind I am rather new to 40k lore, feel free to correct me on terms, concepts, and other such things as I almost assuredly mess them up from time to time.
I was thinking about creating a jaded engineering officer, a grizzled veteran who's been recently un-retired and has re-donned the PDF uniform in this time of crisis. Or alternatively a very young and fresh recruit pressed into service via conscription who, with his fellow landwehr are just trying to fight and survive for one day more.
Do you have a character planned @Loo Tenant, or are you going to play as the environment and NPCs? BTW I am tentatively interested.
Into The Hunter's Den They Danced...
The cadaver stared up at Aaron, his eyes bulging, his face twisted into a pain grimace of a man fighting against the inevitable. An arrow shaft stuck up from his throat like a ship’s mast, blood, still warm pooled around him, spreading outward in ever slowing flows. Aaron reached down and drew his longsword before stepping over the body and entering the dungeons depths, the heavy door already flung wide by whoever had penetrated it before. Cautiously, with all the stealth and alertness of a hunter he crept into the darkness, willing his eyes to pierce the shadowy recesses and reveal those who might still be hiding within. Someone, a smart someone had snuffed out all the lanterns making the dungeon near pitch black and treacherous. As Aaron approached the farthest wall his foot struck a prone figure who groaned at the impact. The prince froze, his sword angled down to prod the man.
“Who be this, man of the king or foe?” Aaron demanded, finding the man’s throat with his sword’s edge. “Speak true lest I slay you outright.”
The man groaned and coughed shifting slightly as he tried to push himself to his knees. “Guard... Uggh, prison guard."
Aaron withdrew sheathing his blade and helping the larger man to his unsteady feet. Using the prince to walk the man managed to exit the dungeon and make it out into the dimly lit hall before sinking to the ground, clutching his head and moaning. He had sat down in the other guardsman’s blood but he did not seem to care, even as Aaron shied away from him, the prince’s fine clothes now stained with muck and grease.
“What happened here?” Aaron demanded, trying in vain to wipe some of the guard’s residue from his hands.
The guard looked worse for wear. The half of him that had been laying down was covered in the filth most associated with dungeons, while his forehead bore twin lumps of significant size, and oozing blood. His nose was shattered, and most of his teeth were gone. Whoever had smashed him against the bars, as that was what clearly had happened, and been a person of immense strength. From all the reports Aaron had heard, the assassin these men were supposed to be guarding had been female, and an injured female at that. Aaron glanced again at the slain guard laying at the door. Whoever had shot that arrow must have been a proper brute of a person.
“The prisoner, when she escaped did she have help? Did you see who it was?” Aaron demanded of the delirious guard. Only certain people were allowed access to the castle, and their names were written in a ledger by the Vanguard at the gates. Even his own coming and going would be reported, although he was never stopped and asked of his identity.
Furrowing his brow, the guard winced, raising a hand to his tender head. “Escaped... The prisoners...”
“Prisoners?” Aaron breathed. “There were more than one?” The guardsman managed a small nod. “Who?”
“Th... Lady Tyler....”
“And? Who was it damn you, who else escaped!”
“Sir.... Fenros,” the man began chuckling and pointed at his head before slumping over, either dead or unconscious Aaron could not be sure. In that moment of shock, anger, and confusion Aaron could only think of one thing.
Eleanor!
As if all the demons of the underworld were in pursuit Aaron sprinted up the many staircases flying past servants, guards, and courtiers alike in his mad dash, smashing over passersby's and not even uttering warnings to clear his way, his drawn sword still clutched in his hand. He reached Eleanor’s room, and finding no guards stationed outside as he had expected burst into it, finding the chamber undeniably empty.
“Sire!” A young Vanguard officer sprinted into the room behind him, panting and puffing, he had clearly been in pursuit of the prince for some time, perhaps having seen Aaron on his mad dash and giving chase. “Lord Commander there has been an escape, and there are killers within the keep!”
“Where is Eleanor?” Aaron shouted over the officer’s hasty report. “Where is my sister!”
“She, uh-”
“Never mind you fool, Sir Fenros is alive and in the castle!” Aaron, shouted. “And my sister is not in her quarters under guard as my father ordered. And there are traitors as well, they could be anyone.”
“Yes sire, I was trying to say so.”
“You were?”
“Yes, my lord. I fought them, they were covering for Sir Allaway’s escape.” He showed Aaron his bloodied sword and hands, a clear testament to a fierce battle only moments ago. “He made good on it too, fleeing over the wall and into the forest with the princess and several others. Some good climbers tried to follow but they had horses prepared, they outran them easily.”
“Why would my father lie?” Aaron muttered, leaning against the wall to take a few deep breaths.
“My lord?”
“Never mind me, I presume you are preparing a party to pursue?”
“Yes m’lord, but they must saddle and prepare the horses, and take the longer route through the city to the nearest gate. The small sally doors we have cannot fit the horses. Even so we are preparing thirty men at this very moment, they shall be departing soon enough to give chase.” The officer trailed off, he dared not speak aloud his trepidation at their chances of success. The forest had been allowed to grow over in recent years, and although nobles often hunted under its spreading branches a small party could easily lose themselves inside, to all but a few trackers.
Aaron smiled, they were wandering straight into his territory. “Run down and have the pursuit postponed.” Aaron ordered, no longer shouting and having the wherewithal to sheath his sword and stand like a proper prince, not some huffing and puffing fool forced to lean against a doorframe to catch his breath. “Have my best horse saddled and supplied for a ten day’s ride. And the thirty other men as well. Send for the hound keeper and order him bring out King and Sniffer and the Lady Spotted.” Aaron thought for a moment before coming to a decision. “And the Old Grey. While you are at it send for Sir Arvel, tell him to saddle up and await me, I need a man I can trust.”
“But Lord Commander, are you not concerned they will ride at full speed to put as much ground between them and the capitol as possible?”
“I’m counting on it, now go, and hurry before my thirty leave. And make sure I have good young men accompanying me. Ones with experience but who could handle several weeks in the saddle. Now if you would excuse me, I must change.”
Routine Reports
The tapestried halls grew silent as evening embraced the palace. Within the Prince’s royal chambers all that could be heard is the steady clink of spurs as his highness paced back and forth across his room. It was a well adorned room, decorated to fit Aaron’s particular tastes. The walls were hung with the trophies of many hunts, bear, boar, fox, and deer stuffed and preserved, rested in macabre poses, while red silk curtains covered the windows and fur rugs were draped across the floor. In a large dog bed in the corner an old wolfhound lay curled up, one large eye watching the prince as he paced like a caged animal. Once in a while he stopped, stooping down to scratch the dog behind the ears, but in a moment he was up and walking again, his brow furrowed in thought.
He felt a pang of sadness at the loss of his sister. If Willum did not kill her outright, he would ship her away, far away and sell her to some distant princeling. Aaron would have liked her to stay, perhaps even have her married to a lord from their own lands, someone powerful who could have bolstered their strength. Someone loyal and well-liked by the people. She would have served a far greater purpose at home, a figurehead that the people could love and adore. Something beautiful they could marvel over while he ruled with strength. She possessed an almost natural affinity for wooing their hearts, something he, and his father lacked in considerable fashion. Instead, through some twist of fate, or a conspiracy of the highest order both of them had ruined any success on that front, and in his stupid fit of anger Aaron himself had destroyed any chance of his sister supporting him. A bond he’d worked so hard to form shattered with a few ill-chosen words. Aaron cursed himself, and his stupidity aloud with such venom his dog whined and cowered in his bed.
Clicking his tongue Aaron quieted, soothing the old hound before beginning his ninetieth circuit of his room.
He still was not sure of the validity of his father’s claims. How far would he go to lie to them, just to unbalance her and anger her just enough to make her irrational, spouting nonsense born from anger? What bounds did his father’s paranoia have? Would he really have went so far as to prove his own theory? Who then were the other players? Sir Fenros, a more loyal man Aaron had never known, what would drive him to betray his king? His love for El perhaps? His loyalty for her? But then what purpose would she have in slaying her own father? To stop the murder of the people? Mayhap. But she herself had said such things were not her way. Besides she had easy access to their chambers. Aaron had no personal guard standing outside his door, neither did the king. She could have waltzed in at a late hour, slid a knife across their throats and left without any man being the wiser. Or even give entrance for another assassin to do the deed. And who would suspect the beautiful, and innocent princess of such hideous crimes? No, for all the logic Aaron could muster it made little sense for Eleanor to nefariously plot the king’s demise in such foolish fashion. She was smart enough to realize there were a thousand better ways surely. What had caused this then? The honest testimony of an assassin?
Aaron was interrupted from his contemplations by a soft rapping on his bedroom door. Wondering who would think to disturb him at this hour the prince hastened over, lifting the latch and pushing the heavy door outward. A young man, only slightly older than Aaron stood at attention on the other side, dressed in the uniform of the House Guard. He placed a hand over his heart as he whispered out his report, his voice kept low for the sake of the slumbering keep.
“Sir Arvel sent me sire, to inform the Lord Commander the city has been successfully brought under control and the crowds dispersed to their homes. The streets are safe, and well patrolled and those who break the curfew are being sent to the gallows to await execution. The gates are locked and the wall watch doubled as ordered, until your review your grace.”
“Good news for once.” Aaron muttered clapping the tall runner on the shoulder. “Send Sir Arvel my regards, and inform him I would meet and discuss reopening the city on the morrow. I would like to reward him for his swift completion of his orders... Those prisoners, there must be many, where are they being kept? And when will their justice be administered”
The soldier paused, thinking carefully over the answer. “Most are held in the standard watch cells your grace, though, as you say there are many. The overflow are being transported to the Inquisition dungeons, the upper ones for low security. I brought a few there myself. They should begin the hanging in a few hours, mayhap sooner since there are so many.”
Having learned all he wanted Aaron dismissed the man and stepped from his chambers. His suspicions nagged at the back of his mind as he checked his sword, and pulled his mink fur cloak tighter around his shoulders before departing alone through the many halls and staircases within the keep, ever downward towards the dungeons. Everything about this situation seemed off to him, and perhaps a private conversation with the would-be-assassin would assist in clearing the all to murky waters.
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