Epsir

When the Flames Die

Mullen seethed with activity, not that the city ever slowed down, but rarely did its streets see such abuse under the feet of the sea of travelers and shoppers brought out by an approaching party. Inside of its walls, workers, nobles, and diplomats alike made their way into the palatial grounds to either stay in the hospitality of the king or set to work preparing for the next day. The main gate of the palace, facing east, had been hit the hardest. The massive ornamental bronze gates had been pulled fully open, and handfuls of clerks and stewards worked to record the entrance of notable figures for both the crown's preparations and certainly the curiosity of the officials that paid them. Whoever was coming to the celebration would likely pass through those gates, and the proper among them would make sure to check in at them regardless. It made a wonderful place for receiving honored guests and keeping track of the unsavory ones.

The many buildings of the palace were already alive with the hordes of gossipers and early arrivals enjoying their chosen forms of pre-party. Close to the gates, another sort of curious official watched the procession with a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other from the comfort of a street side table. He was a tall man, brown haired and gaunt faced who would have stood out from the crowd if he hadn't been sitting alone. Subtlety was lost on him, as every now and then he would fixate on one of the new arrivals, add some notations to his book, and return to watching the crowd with a dissatisfied look. He had the look of a sickly hawk, impatiently awaiting the right kind of prey. Maybe they were already in the city, and he had missed his window, but duty required that he continued to sit at that small table and stare down the crowds until he had exhausted the supply of nameless faces.

When the Flames Die

Rup, you're accepted but please make sure to find that appearance.

Also accepted Raven. Lumina would probably be in the mesh of nations in the northwest where actual elves still remain on Estovet but that's still other side of the continent.

We've got enough people to start now so I'll have an IC intro up in a bit.

When the Flames Die

That would be awesome.

When the Flames Die

Two kings dead to circumstance, and a third born son on the throne. He has no heirs, no experience, and no public backing. The eyes of the world are upon Keilaudrin, the foremost power of the west coast and a kingdom built entirely in the past two centuries. A convoluted web of allegiances and promises hold the realm together, with the lords who were not conquered bound to the crown by debt and title. The royal family is weak, one man alone carries its name, and those promises are slowly losing their hold on a country of nobles promised wealth, land, and any number of things for their swords. Many who hold potential claims to the throne are dissatisfied, and plot to assert their claim through blood or guile. The emissaries and diplomats of other nations watch with bated breath, or put their hands into the matter for their own gain. Turmoil is the norm in the court, and civil war is a constant threat. The king's coronation is about to be celebrated in the capital, and while the city is strung up in colors and gala the loyalists, conspirators, and traitors alike will walk the same streets.

Feel free to leave questions here, in the OOC, or PM me.

When the Flames Die

Yeah, hopefully we can get a few more players before we go.

When the Flames Die

Good to see you Sightles.

Okay Rupdeus, I think what I'll end up doing is a more general IC intro that's less exposition and more scene setting.

When the Flames Die

Accepted, welcome to the thread. Feel free to make an intro or wait for another player to intro with. My guess is that most characters will be arriving or already present in the capital, and I plan to introduce NPCs from there on in based on what characters we have.

When the Flames Die

Always Open --------- The sun hung low in the west, and from his balcony he watched it sink slowly towards the calm waves of the bay. Daylight had few hours left in the city of Mullen, his city, and its final struggles for life on both the water's surface and the shingle roofs of the city made a golden-red view he found fit for a king. A fitting thought, for a king he was. Bard Urien, to his people he called himself Bard II in tribute to one of his long dead forefathers. He needed that, and everything else he could muster, to legitimize his rule. The room he stood in was his only by the virtue of his brothers' deaths. The first had fallen ill years before and the second-born son serving as king had died in his sleep months ago, and despite being the next of kin it had taken him and his court until now to install himself as the new king. That was unfortunately the climate the old kings of Keilaudrin had built. Their nation was the rising star of the west coast, the largest kingdom in the region and a potent and growing military and trade power. Keilaudrin was one hundred and fifty years of shrewd diplomacy and calculated conquest in the making, and the cost of that haste was the myriad of arrangements, promises, and pacts binding the crown and its vassals together. He had to take every step the perfect way, to the perfect place, and not just for his lords but for his people. They had seen the best and worst of kings, maybe more of the latter, and he had no doubt that every eye in the land was turned to him and his regime in scrutiny. One misstep, one revolt, and innocent blood would be on his hands. He had been crowned a few weeks prior, but he found himself setting on his balcony to reflect on the eve of the celebration of his coronation. The whole city was up in colors and festivity to celebrate the return of order, but it would begin in earnest tomorrow morning. His lords would expect an heir to be named. The Urien family was short of them, and Bard himself was still unmarried. As the last Urien, he was the greatest target. The crown was weak, and at any moment the royal family could be snuffed out and lost on the pages of history. Bard was not an idealist, and he knew that there were more lords with ambition than without in his court. There were any number of ways to put someone else on the top, and any number of people willing to try it. Not only his own vassals but any nation that happened to have an interest in one of the most influential nations on the continent would be looking for their way in. It almost seemed that in the grand scheme of things, the king himself was quickly becoming unimportant. Keilaudrin was at the brink of falling apart, and any man or number of men with enough desire could pull the web of intrigues holding it together apart. They would be entering themselves in a dangerous game, however. Keilaudrin was no stranger to war, violence was something any man out for the throne came prepared for. The grim specter of violence used in usurpation loomed close by in the north, over the neighboring once-country of Lachne, now an ashen waste populated only by bandits and the desperate. The night hadn't yet come, and the party to usher in the era of a new king stayed beyond even that. But in the streets of Mullen, people came to involve themselves in a struggle that dated back years. This thread is always open, feel free to submit a character sheet any time, and please feel free to contact me over PMs or in the OOC. Rules: 1: No autohitting/killing, godmodding, powerplay, that sort of general roleplay thing. Not everybody gets along, but please have respect for your fellow roleplayers. 2: Actions have consequences. I will not outright kill characters, no rocks falling here, but I do believe in having a little danger. 3: Please contact me if you are going to disappear for an extended period of time. I don't penalize for inactivity but I do like to know if I need to continue without you. 4: If I am not around to accept your bio for some crazy reason, Sightles will do so. Player List: Name / Page / Owner Thomas Morgan / 1 / Sightles Sophia Octavia / 1 / DrowsyPangolin Jezin Tremora / 1 / DrowsyPangolin Gareth Harker / 1 / ravenDivinity Jon Easten / 3 / MicahTheRogue Hadryn of Buckshorn / 3 / Quadrophenia Olyvar Nymerios / 4 / Larfleeze Payton Kyneburg / 5 / Chazbarry Kol / 5 / Chazbarry Noah Ardian / 8 / MicahTheRogue Adrian Kelzhar / 12 / BingTheWing Eva Stonewater / 12 / DrowsyPangolin Character Sheet Format: Name: Age: Gender: Race: Appearance/Clothing: Weapons: Personality: History:

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

Loenn

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John had taken the opportunity of being left alone to catch up on resupplying, chiefly his lost scarf. It was easy to find a cheap bolt of cloth that matched the original, within the small amount of money he carried on his person and with plenty left over to make Crom's payment. He wondered, briefly, if the man even remembered. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to forget. After his business in the marketplace was concluded, he went back to wait by the fort for Griff's return. It was a blessing to be free of the market, the place was too loud to be with his own thoughts in and while the bustle around the fort wasn't much better he could at least hear himself think. The guards seemed to be minding their own business as well. As time dragged on, it became apparent that Griff seemed to have disappeared. Thinking that perhaps they were being recalled one by one to the caravan, he decided to make his own way back towards the tavern that the cart had stopped by. It seemed to him he'd be waiting out the night with their gracious hosts.

Lieda

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Maria plucked her jacket off of the coach, throwing it over her shoulder despite what miniscule drying time it had had on the couch. In the dim light of the fire, it was a bit harder to appreciate the man's features but she still took a moment to study the face lifelessly smiling at her. No matter what she heard or did, it would never feel right simply entrusting a scout company, even her own, to the man she saw. That distrust was wasteful, a result of impassioned protectiveness for her comrades in arms, and a small part of her kept raising that point in her mind. She could trust Cross in the same capacity she trusted herself, as a killer. Or perhaps it was just wrong to base an estimation of a man off of only his reputation. For an instant, she wanted to know more, but Milo had already had spent a deal of time with the man and he hadn't seemed visibly upset. Only driven to drink. Besides, there were a few more notes rolled up in her pocket. Maria shook her head slowly. "I'm finished. If you have any questions, I have some things to deliver before I leave, I'll take them after," she said, nodding a slight goodbye and turning away. A few brisk steps, and she went up the inn's stairs. Only one of the few rooms had been closed, and if she was wrong there were only a few others to guess. She approached the door she figured for Milo's, and gently knocked at the door. Her frown deepened. Making stops around town to say goodbye was one thing but making direct room calls hadn't been her intention. Thankfully, the only officer to know would be leaving and her XO wasn't here to chide about it.

Fire in the West (Freeroam)

"Maria Trinan," she said, speeding over the name and watching Milo leave both with an air of discomfort, especially when he took the brandy along with him. "Goodnight Milo, Take care." She didn't want to leave it like that, especially not for one the few among her officers actually going away. Well, it saved her time, although time spent inside was much nicer. The rest of her officer staff was out there somewhere. She turned back to Alec to consider him a moment before answering. He had been armed, significantly. Hopefully no one would ever find out about that and Boyd clearly hadn't suspected anything. That sounded like Boyd. "The League is new, but the hate between everyone isn't. The people will fight you." She stood up, laying her jacket back on the couch and looking to the door. It was about time to get going. The fire was warm but that wasn't her preference. "It's a type of fighting you're familiar with, I'm sure, but the culture is different and it's something to learn. From one officer to another, you want the people on your side before this turns into a war." The people's opinion had previously lead to the loss of members of the 33rd. She swept her forehead with her hand, brushing away rain water, and looked once more about the room. Nobody else. The accommodations were suitable, but she wasn't so sure about the staffing. Her head still spun, and slowly she came to realize that she'd been ranting at Cross. "I've said too much. Be careful with my company." She stared back at his smile, frowning in reply.