Grijs

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

Tautom

Inside the luxurious Balti Palace-Complex
King Orso’s domain

Pelos walks in, the half-naked elite Palace guard. The King would recognize those magnificent golden abs anywhere. He is the warden of the throne room, and he comes with a dire report.
‘’My King, the city is under attack.’’

Orso, enjoying another pleasant spa with his charming wives, was occupied savoring fresh wine imported from Syromean vineyards. The royal company is too occupied with his routine royal affairs to pay Pelos any heed. Nevertheless King Orso, in his generosity, feels he should humor his subject nevertheless.
King Orso flashes his white teeth in a kindly smile.
‘’Haha, Good one, Pelos! I never did take you for a comedian. I didn’t know you liked me so much that you’d even come see me when off duty!’’

A maid walks in.
‘’Your excellency, the Chlotars have taken the walls.’’

The king laughs even louder, slapping his feet loud enough for some of his wives to look up and awkwardly chuckle along.

‘’Oh this is rich! Pelos, did you get some of the other staff to take part in the act? Now that is true dedication!’’ Orso wipes away a tear of euphoric joy as he continues to fill everyone’s ears with hearty laughter.

A third messenger walks into Orso’s domain, this time one of his very own wives, one he has long forgotten about.
‘’My love, the Chlotars have spread into the impoverished southern districts and are poised to take the West Viigoc quarter.’’

‘’Yeah yeah, I get it. The joke’s getting old now.’’

Finally a fourth person walks into the hall, one unlike all the others. A dark frame piercing defiantly through the warm and relaxing steam. Fully armored in cold black breastplate and lamellar, with dark flowing hair falling over his plated shoulders and a stern expression of total resolution on his scarred face. He represents a solemnness otherwise never experienced in the Tautan King’s premises. The King looks up, slightly distraught.
"…Rogan?"
"Abadactus.’’
The man replies sonorously.

‘’I fear it is not a joke, my King. Take a look.’’

The fourth man, whose name is Abadactus Rogan, is the Captain of the Royal Guard of the Tautan Palace. Marshal of the elite warrior unit of the mainland Baltian Kingdom known as the Sacred Band. He moves forth a powerful arm to grip the King’s pitiful noodle-arm, dragging him from his sauna-throne room.

‘’Ow, ow ow! Stop that Abadactus! I’m your King! I order you to get your sweaty man-hands off my royal person!’’

‘’Yes you are a King, and now is the time you assume the responsibilities of one. Look.’’
Abadactus had brought Orso to the elevated balcony perched over the Palace’s front gate. Once a podium from where the Kings of Baltia would address the citizenry. This place offers a clear perspective over each of the city's districts. But Orso has never stood on it since his coronation a decade ago.
And as they stood on the Palace’s Balcony, Orso came to face the awful truth. Smoke, screams and fire. The king ceased his whining and, for the first time in maybe his entire life, his eyes became focused and a thoughtful expression fell over him. It seems like a spell had been lifted.

The King of Tautom needed a moment to process his thoughts, and finding the words, he asks:
‘’Abadactus. Why does everyone hate me so?’’
The Captain of the Guard gives no response, his expression remains focused.
And so the King of Tautom continues.
‘’I am a lovely guy! Right? I have committed no acts of tyranny, I have not repressed, I have never been cruel. I only ever served God by fostering peace and happiness!
How have I ever transgressed against the world for it to seek my downfall?’’
Abadactus gives response.
‘’Your position as King. The leader of a nation is default always reviled. And why wouldn’t he? Whosoever shepherds an entity as far encompassing as a nation, has blood on their hands. There is no running from this. A King must learn to shoulder this burden for the good of all.’’
‘’But I am the best King of Visandza! What have I done to deserve this? All my life I have committed myself to the happiness of the people. Nowhere in all the world does a realm guarantee love, liberty and tolerance as god-guaranteed right! Where the founding King has laid the footwork of paradise!’’

‘’And now the dream of Paradise is on the brink of the abyss by your indolence. Though you are not entirely to blame. I should blame myself for having allowed this to escalate as far as it had. Everyone is to blame.’’

‘’Master Rogan, I only ever acted in accordance to God’s will. That is the true duty of a King! Why, the Chlotar King should be my friend!’’

No reply.

Orso whimpers quietly. ‘’Why does this happen?’’

The lost King looks out over the city, observing the sea of rooftops that spread out towards the far southern wall. He can only guess how many of the buildings under those roofs are already under the barbarian claw. Then his eyes falls on the old bell tower. A thought enters his mind.

‘’Can it be… could we be out of God’s grace somehow? Ever since High Priest Waliyo-Oho has forsaken the city and moved into the Baltian countryside among the Chlotars, the Black Bell of Tautom has not been rung.
Is this divine punishment?’’

Abadactus shakes his head and taps the haft of his lance against the stone.
‘’Superstition, my King. No. This is the doing of an insider. There has been a traitor in our midst for long, and I have a suspicion as to who…’’

‘’Who?’’

‘’It is time to send in the Sacred Band.
Rest assured, my liege, the dream of Odovakre can yet be salvaged. We shall fight these barbarians to a stand-still. There is a reason the Celeseans founded a world empire with their own blood and sweat – and that these northern tribes did not.’’

Orso makes a sharp turn to Abadactus.
‘’Abadactus! You are my most loyal friend and servant, are you not? Then I beseech you – get to the bottom of this! Protect the citizens from the barbarians! Evacuate the rich quarter into the Palace Complex!’’

‘’Fear not, Good King Orso, the Sacred Band shall redeem. We are the vanguard of the eternal dream of Baltia.’’

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

The battle for Tautom has begun in a treacherous surprise attack!
@neogreggory@Wernher@Serpentine88@Archetype Zero

Tautom Map

To clarify, Tautom is divided in districts, as yet unnamed but marked on this map. Marked as 'poverty region A, B, the Commons, the Rich District and the Viigoc Quarters A and B'. Each of these are walled in due to the segregation of classes and unsafe nature of Tautan urban-life. This will wear the attackers down from swarming the whole of the city.
However these walls weren't designed to keep armies out, but to keep dirty plebs out of the wealthier areas. If a concentrated effort to break the district walls was made, they wouldn't take long to fall, but doing so would stall the attackers and give the defenders ample time to prepare on the other side.
At present the defenders are holding the attackers off at a choke-point at the northernmost gatehouse ontop of the wall, the Tautovigoc Gate leading to a Tautovigoc Quarter, where much of the King's household troops and their families live. It is as such a pretty well-secured place.

Just PM if you need additional details on something & wish to brainstorm an effective relief effort.

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

Cantaware, Royal Seat of Eodaland

---

Inside Red-Wyvern Castle

‘’Hello? King Badastan? It’s me, o King. …Aelfgar. You were asking for me, my lord?’’
Having knocked, Aelfgar cautiously pushes against the great willow-door, and it creaks open to the quarters of the Eodaen King.
Catching a glimpse through the narrow opening, he spots the grotesque posture of King Badastan turned to the wall, where he looks through a wooden window-frame, wherefrom he analyzes the docks and the brilliant ocean beyond, with the setting sun shining on his mustached face. There is a live squirrel sitting on his left shoulder – her name is Lamble and it’s the Eodaen King’s best friend and spiritual advisor.

Aelfgar himself is a skinny man in a long weathered wooly overcoat. He has proportionally long legs, a pointy nose, long curly red-brown hair and a groomed stubble beard. Because of his legs he is nicknamed ‘longshanks’. Looks however can be deceiving, for Aelfgar is much stronger than he appears, and it is his inconspicuousness why he’s so frequently employed as Badastan’s ‘armed muscle’.

‘’Ah, Aelfgar.’’ The King speaks with a low hushed voice, his back turned to him, continuing peering at the pier. ‘’I trust you invited my beloved nephew over for his 16th birthday? ‘’

‘’Oh yes, I was going to strangle hi---‘’

Badastan abruptly turns around, pressing a finger against his thick lips.
‘’SSHHHHHHH!
You were going to deliver unto him his beloved uncle’s birthday gift.’’

‘’Uh, of.. of-course my lord…’’

Badastan continues, turning his back to him once again and back to the window,
‘’And am I to assume you did not see your delivery through?’’

‘’Not.. Not exactly my lord. The bed was empty. But I could tell he had slept on it that night. The window was open.. And a horse was missing when I went to see the stabl-‘’

‘’Aelfgar Aelfgar… Take a seat Aelfgar!’’

‘’Uh. Yes my King.’’

Aelfgar stumbles about a bit, looking around, half-tripping over the carpet as he made for the chair placed behind him.

‘’How’s the seat cushion, Aelfgar?’’
‘’My lord, this chair is mighty fine my lord!’’
‘’Good.
And how’s the wife?’’
‘’She’s also mighty fine.’’
‘’Good, good.’’
An uncomfortable silence ensues, before the Eodaen King resumes.
‘’Now listen Aelfgar, serious talk.
It seems you’ve let the little rodent miss out on his own birthday celebration. Have you any idea how sad his dear mother – my stunning wife – is?’’
‘’Probably mighty sad my lord.’
‘’Yes. Mighty sad. You could say that.
And how do you think I feel about not having seen my dear nephew for a year?’’

Aelfgar doesn’t really understand what he has to reply with.
‘’…Sad? I think?’’ He chuckles nervously.

Then the King turns about, threateningly approaching Aelfgar who is pinned down the chair from anxiety. The King’s massive frame covers the henchman in his tremendous shadow. Badastan looks down, and his brooding frown suddenly turns to a kindly smile as he gives the man a hearty pat on the back.
‘’There there, Aelfgar! I am not angry that you’ve failed me! Not least when there’s a tremendous crisis at foot that only you can resolve!’’
‘’Me, my lord?’’
‘’Yes you, Aelfgar. You see, some of my beloved subjects have gone rogue. And for the life of me I couldn’t understand why! Can you?’’

‘’Not at all, my lord. Your rule with great wisdom, and you’ve rid this Kingdom of religious superstition. And who doesn’t love squirrels?’’

Badastan nods. And so does the squirrel on his shoulder.
‘’Now see, I have reason to believe these subjects are now in league with the Celeseans of Syrome. Merchant vessels, but more importantly, peaceful squirrel clergy are under great duress at their unprovoked aggression…’’

Badastan places both hands on Aelfgar’s shoulders, gripping them and pulling him up with force.
‘’They. Must. Be. Stopped!’’

Aelfgar rubs the droplets of saliva off his face from Badastan’s indignant proclamation as he is faintly being held up by the King.

‘’And that’s where I come in?’’
‘’And that’s where you come in.
You’re a fine naval captain, Aelfgar. Mighty fine even. I trust you can handle yourself on the high seas, swashbuckling some squirrelphobic corsairs.
In the name of the one true Squirrel Demon – Xaexeanot – you will take the helm of the flagship, the Herald of the Golden Acorn, prepared for you at the Cantaware pier, and sail the fleet to Syrome. I’ve already sent a pigeon to Belisar of your arrival. We shall see if the old-fox will honor his alliance with Eodaland, hm? From there on, scour the Sea of Tears to bring these criminals to justice. Finding them won’t be hard once you’ve got access to their suppliers.

Nothing you can’t handle, I am sure?’’

….Aelfgar turns quiet from the huge assignment he has just been saddled up with. From an assassin to an admiral? After a moment of contemplation, the man gives slow be it hesitant response.
‘’…You are most generous, my lord.’’
He would never question King Badastan, of course, for such is Badastan’s divine power -- he could convince animals of the rightness of his religion. And Aelfgar is a reverent squirrel-follower.

‘’That’s not all: succeed, and I shall make you my new Earl... AND you’ll get a castle of your choosing! The world has great things in store for you, Aelfgar!’’ Badastan laughs and lets go of Aelfgar’s shoulders.

‘’Yes my King.’’ Being set free, he takes a few steps back towards the willow door, preparing to leave. Not least to get away from Badastan’s sweaty odour. ‘’I shall see it done, my King. With the Squirrel-demon as my witness, this unruly pack of traitors shall rue the day they raised swords against the Eodaen Kingdom!’’

‘’Oh, and if you happen to come across Prince Alric, send him my regards.’’

‘’Yes I will kill-- ‘’
Badastan frowns sternly, about to interrupt, and Aelfgar immediately revises:
‘’--deliver him his delayed birthday gift.’’

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

@Narcotic Dollie Well you see, emphasizing the full udders is all part of my artistic process.

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

UPDATE: Thanks to @Narcotic Dollie we've got a dank Character Index at the first post of the CS to structure all faction characters.

(She made it a while ago and I forgot to put it in xd )

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

Maimed God Character Index

---

• King Cauroman
• King Dagobert
  
  • Autchar der Herstal -- Paladin of the Chlotar Kings
• Vetericus
  
  • Crocus, The Elder -- Right-hand to Vetericus
• Einhard Cloviscisca
• Wulfberht

---

• King Dalgiserius
• Princess Dalgiserata
• Princess Antonia
  
  • Gundiberga -- Antonia's Shield Maiden
• Giselart the Soothsayer
  
  • Ratechi the Iron-Hand -- Giselart's Right Hand Man
  • Dauraulf Locust-Head -- Warrior and put in command by Giselart to lead raiding parties & advises on tactics and logistics.
• Ardoiwn Theodorn
  
  • Cleph -- Ardoiwn's Second Man
• Raditschs the Damned

---

• King Badastan
  
  • Thane Aelfgar of Westerburh -- Badastan's henchman
• Prince Alric
• Lord Captain Leofric
  
  • Aela -- First Mate in Leofric's Crew
  • Peric -- Oarmaster in Leofric's Crew
  • Alicia Arenar -- Quartermaster in Leofric's Crew

---

• King Orso
  
  • Abadactus Rogan -- Orso's Captain of the Palace
• Athalaric Heldefredus -- The Viigoc
  
  • General Sigeric, General Eriulf, General Vandil -- The Military Council
  • Primo Foederati Custodes -- Body Guard Unit
• Doux Theodonus
  
  • Madam Kalisto -- Theodonus' Mother
  • Prince Nonnonso -- Friend of Theodonus & one of King Orso's many children.
• Quintus Vitalius of Amal
  
  • Prince Zeno of Tautom -- One of King Orso's many children.
• Doux Belisar II of Syrome
  
  • Douxaina Anaceaia Aetius -- Wife of Belisar
  • Lord Seneca Aetius and Lady Nicaea of Syrome -- Children of Belisar & Anaceaia

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

Nevelholt Forest, South-east of Aaixen

The Great Army of King Cauroman is on the move towards the far-away Rudine Marches, Chlotaringen’s southern frontier. Having moved through the riverlands surrounding Aaixen, the king's army of some ten thousand men is recuperating at the edge of a vast, ancient and ancestral woodland known as the Nevelholt. The King’s initial host was larger, but for logistical reasons they were split up in several smaller armies entrusted to the Paladins.
Meanwhile Cauroman is accompanied by three of his great Paladins. With Vetericus assigned to the Baltian Marches, it leaves Einhard, Cauroman’s own, Wulfbehrt, champion of Udos, a crusader for Godas and Defender of the Holy City -- of whom songs are sung throughout Visandza, and last Autchar, the Sword-bearer to Cauroman’s bedridden brother King Dagobert, who ventured out on his behalf.

The twilight shines through the leaves as the fiery sun disc fades into the horizon. The Nevelholt, already considered a mystical woodland, appears even more otherworldly underneath the orange-purple sky.
In the great Chlotar encampment at the edge of the forest, Paladins Einhard and Autchar stand with the Chlotar quartermaster around the hewn base of a once large oak tree central of the pavilion, that they use as makeshift table. There they discuss logistics with the quartermaster in regards the Long March over Visandza... Though not letting the opportunity pass to toast a drink.

‘’It will take some months for an army to travel from Aaixen’s heartlands to the Rudine Marches.’’ Says to quartermaster. ‘’In the meantime we ought to take it easy, the men are tired after another day’s march.’’
‘’No, we must stay on alert. I’ve heard ominous reports from this part of Chlotaringen.’’ answers Autchar, pouring himself and the other paladins a curious beverage of fermented grapes, which the Celeseans call ‘wine’.
The quartermaster, after inspecting the liquid, takes a cautious sip of it.
‘’Hrm. Good, but a tad sour. These were imported from the Baltian marches, no? It takes some getting used to. Where’s the mead?’’ He blurts with a grin. ‘’Hey, come on Autchar, why so dour? Don’t get distraught from hearsay.’’
‘’It’s not hearsay.’’ Autchar speaks solemnly, after passing the waterskin of wine to Einhard ‘’For years word has spread as a plague through these lands, of ominous and sudden disappearances of those who rode out too deep into the Nevelholt.’’ The paladin then casts his gaze to the east past the trees and into the darkness beyond.
“What, afraid the goatmen are going to come and take you?” Einhard replies sarcastically as he takes a swig of the wine Autchar presented him. “The only thing that we need to worry about are those by Godas forsaken Lamperts and their devious king.”

‘’You think it’s outlandish, and perhaps it is. Except that among those missing are two Paladins, deployed by late King Carlovech to investigate the disappearances.’’

‘’Berengar and Ojevar…’’ A third voice interjects as someone enters the pavilion. It is Cauroman.
‘’My King!’’ Autchar utters in surprise, instinctively pressing his fist against his chest as salute. Einhard halfway drops to one knee, then back up with a nod of his head and bellows “High King Cauroman!”
‘’Hail, brothers. Be at ease.’’ The Chlotar King speaks, taking off his crowned spangenhelm and placing it on the great oak stump before them.
‘’Autchar, I remember these two Paladins you named from my youth, Berengar and Ojevar. They were most loyal, and formidable above all.‘’
The King is quiet in a moment of contemplation.
‘’I always did wonder what had become of them. Had these disappearances of our kinsfolk never been resolved?” Cauroman looks at Autchar inquiringly from the corner of his emerald eyes.
“Not that we know of, my King. Once it became common knowledge that the forest abducts the living, your subjects have wisely ceased going there.’’

“So it is no longer a problem.” The quartermaster says.

‘’No…’’
Cauroman's voice is beset with resolution.
‘’If my father’s Paladins perished in there, it must not be ignored but confronted. As Paladins and as King, it is our duty to either retrieve or avenge them.
However at present our attention cannot be diverted from the great war to come. I suppose it is something to look into once the war with Lampertei has come to pass.”

“If we will live to survive that war.” The quartermaster smirks, half in jest, having meanwhile turned to the mead to wash away the sour wine-taste.

‘’Better to die on the battlefield against the Lamperts than in some forest” Einhard mutters.

“Whether we live or die, it matters not so long that we WIN.
Should we fail to save Godas, Visandza - no, all existence, - will fall to final darkness.’’ Autchar groans solemnly, to which the quartermaster can only sigh.
‘’Autchar, your grimness is the reason we are trying to have a toast right now. Just have a drink.’’

Cauroman raises a clenched fist.
‘’Gentlemen! Let us not brood on what is to come. But one thing is certain; this forest is hexed. It is best to be on high alert, as Paladin Autchar so wisely asserts.
Quartermaster!’’
The man’s back stiffens. ‘’Orders?’’
‘’Double the nightguard. We need volunteers.’’
‘’I shall see to it posthaste.’’

Then spotting an opportunity to demonstrate his commitment, Einhard slams his fist on the oak stump, proclaiming as he chews a mouthful of pork: “I will keep watch through the night.”
Cauroman turns to him with a grin, arms folded;
‘’Ever a dependable warrior, much like your father.’’
The Chlotar King picks up his spangenhelm and holds it under his arm.
‘’My warriors, I will see the three of you at dawn. Do your forebear proud as I myself strive to.’’ He leaves the pavilion to make for his own tent. One whose regalty is outwardly only betrayed by the banner of the Faramundian lion planted on top.

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

@Guinemerz It's weird seeing my sketchy concept art appear in a clip. lol

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

Skadan Castle, the hallway leading toward the Eoin Tower

---

On the old Stronghold that is Skadan Castle are built two great towers. One of them is old and weathered, purposefully constructed by the first King Alboin to oversee his nascent Kingdom. This tower has become the living quarters of the King’s trueborn daughter.
The second and higher tower is a much newer addition to the Castle -- it is the tower Dalgiserius had constructed from whence to challenge God. The Eoin and Serius towers respectively. And it is in the latter where his adopted daughter rests in a room adjacent the long stairway up. ...Two towers for two daughters.

The hallway leading up to the old Eoin Tower is where the Princess often links up with Laiamicho, a steadfast retainer of her family.
For a Lampert woman Dalgiserata is on the short side, likely taken after her mother. By contrast she inherited the dark hair and icy eyes of her namesake father, Dalgiserius. Her forehead is beset with a diadem of gemstones. Over her embellished robes she wears a dark and heavy bear pelt similar to her father's, which around her neck is also beset with yet more gemstones. For Lampert royalty it's not the gems that is considered Alboinid regalia, but the bear fur. All Lampert royalty, be they male or female, are expected to wear a mantle made from the pelt of a black bear. Unbefitting for a Princess, however, is that under her regal robes the king's daughter wears trousers rather than a dress, for she and her retinue often embark on horseback.

As for Laiamicho, one wouldn't think that he's a royal servant based on his ragged overcoat and worn tunic, though with his errands of subterfuge, perhaps that's the point. His clean-shaven face and well-kempt hair betrays his standing however. And everyone inside Dalgiserius' stronghold immediately would recognize him by face and voice alone. Of all her servants, the Princess trusts him most.
‘’The King is not taking the warning as gravely as I hoped he would.’’ Laiamicho sighs. ‘’The Chlotar enemy are preparing something big. Greater than anything to date. There’s something off with their new King, this Cauroman.’’

‘’You’ve done the best you could, Laiamicho. I know of the strain it takes to address my father…’’
The scout sighs. ‘’I’m just glad to be out of that accursed hall. Outwardly I could carry myself calmly enough, sure, but in truth I was Goddamned pissing myself from anxiety. Almost literally too.’’
‘’You did your duty to the Kingdom. My father is grateful for your reconnaissance, even if he doesn’t show it.’’
‘’Don’t get me wrong, I am not looking for pity. Pity rather your half-sister. Is she seriously a Gastald? I honestly thought it’s a joke! The Gastalds are fearsome warchiefs and the like, and she’s just a meek lit--’’ He abruptly quits talking when he spots Antonia approaching from over the Princess’ shoulder. He abruptly clears his throat and straightens his overcoat, uncomfortably looking another direction in the hopes she hadn’t overheard.

Antonia raises a brow at Laiamicho’s hushed remark, but Gundiberga lets out a bark of laughter that cuts through the silence and causes the royal retainer to give a startled jump.
“Do you hear that, little fox?” the shield maiden askes, twirling a coil of the girl’s ginger hair around her finger and yanking on it. “He thinks you’re meek. I told you that you’re too precious for your own damn good. Maybe you ‘ought to take your training more seriously.” Antonia hisses and bats the blonde woman’s hand away while shooting her a glare, which only causes Gundiberga to give a grin that is more a baring of teeth than anything else.

“Thank you, Laiamicho. I’ll do my best to be more fearsome in the future,” the redhead quipped dryly before flashing the servant a half smile to show that while she was annoyed at his remarks, Antonia bore him no ill will. Afterall, it was ridiculous to imagine a nineteen year old, not yet battle tested girl as a mighty Gastald.

“My apologies, my lady. I just thought… I-” Laiamicho coughed, giving his coat one final tug. “-I’ll be on my way. Glory to Lampertei and the High King. Death to God. Have a pleasant evening, ladies”, finally making a swift bow to Dalgiserata ‘’Princess.’’ before hastening off.

“Death to God,” both women echo, Antonia in a practiced monatone and Gundiberga in her typical manic timbre. Dalgiserata remained quiet the whole time, casting a stern gaze at Gundiberga as to dismiss her, and only addressing her half-sister when Laiamicho and she had removed themselves from their vicinity.

‘’The skull drinking… it-’’ The Princess struggles to find the words, her face pained.
‘’It was cruel. That my father’s dogs would do such a thing to your true father.’’

Antonia purses her lips and remains silent while she waits for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

‘’...In his own way, my father -- our father -- was trying to help you, I am sure.’’

...and there it was. Antonia lets go of a sigh, the exhale sounding explosive in the tiny corridor.
“That's enough, Serata,” the freckled young woman finally says, not unkindly, before placing a hand on the princess's shoulder.
“I'd rather not speak about it now, if it's all the same to you.” As much as Antonia loved her sister, she knew better than to argue with her over Dalgiserius’s ways.

‘’Of course.’’ Dalgiserata lowers her head respectfully as to acknowledge her wishes. This isn’t court protocol or anything, it’s in her nature.
‘’My father’s dogs, they--’’

Speaking of the devil, a bearded sentinel turns up from deep down the hallway, speaking with a voice low and hoarse as he taps his halberd hard against the stone tiles.
‘’Gastald Antonia. The High King summons you to the netherhall. -- Don’t make him wait.’’ Then the large man turns around, expecting Antonia to follow behind.

‘’It seems as though another trial has been prepared for you as a Gastald.’’ Serata hushes at her.
‘’Things will get better for you, I swear it. My father will yet learn to value your true worth.
Be strong, sister.’’

Returning to the Netherhall, the place has gotten colder and darker now that the seats of the grand table are all vacant, and the green flames of the braziers dying. There is no one in the hall, save one great shadow that the green embers cast far over the whole of the floor. The shadow of Dalgiserius. With a fist resting against his worn bearded face, his icy eyes look up with a scowl into Antonia’s direction.
‘’You kept me waiting. Come hither, Gastald Mouse.’’ Dalgiserius' imposing voice echoes through the hall with a low hum.

After her eyes attuned to the darkness, Antonia can tell that the King is not in fact alone. At his side, shrouded in shadow, stands a figure whose sparse metallic glimmering betrays it as Giselart, the Soothsayer. The old loremaster is bent down, his beard trembling as he whispers something in the King’s ear, before silently withdrawing into the darkness to observe the girl’s approach.

‘’Each of the men hosted at my table are there for their demonstrated might, and selfless devotion to Lampertei. Still, each has been found wanting.

The insult to the Lampert people and our ancestors… Udos… and the evil witch whores therein yet live. The queen of all witches schemes there, the source of all mayhem. A decade ago my ‘best’ men could not take the city. Nor I could take Udos as I charged myself into the breach. But you, little mouse... I trust will succeed where all my stumbling wardogs have failed.

Only a warrior of your… ‘unspoiledness’... can undo the City of Witchcraft of its warding hex.

Now tell me, my beloved daughter, how would you like to see mother again?’’

Antonia stands motionless for a moment, before carefully answering,
“I would only see her if that is what my king wishes of me.”

‘’Hrm.
You are right to be wary. She is a dark deviant. A shameless schemer. A hag of hazards. Yet nevertheless your mother. Think of the... ‘’ Dalgiserius struggles to say the word, forcing himself as he spat it out ‘’..JOY.. it would bring her old heart.’’
The King stares intently at his adopted daughter, trying his best to keep his perpetual fury contained by grinding his brittle teeth against one another -- which makes it all the more unnerving for her.
Despite the king’s efforts to control his aura the atmosphere inside the hall feels extraordinarily oppressive and it's a struggle for Antonia just to keep her feet firmly planted instead of sprinting for the door. She is speechless, so in lieu of answering she responds with a quick nod.

‘’Yes. I thought you’d like that.’’ Dalgiserius mutters as he reveals a mere glint of contentedness, but never enough so for his perpetual frown to fade.

The Soothsayer’s deep-sunken eyes gleam briefly as he emerges from the dim, stooping once again to the King’s ear. He soundlessly whispers some more before vanishing back behind the seat.
Dalgiserius’ brooding voice, even in attempts to remain calm is induced with only barely contained rage as the King’s voice echoes through the stone fundaments.
‘’You… will wish to become one of the witch queen’s vile cultists… the Vestal Virgins. And the best way to earn their boon is by presenting yourself as Nanperga’s daughter.

Then, and then alone will you have access to their vaults of sorcery. From there, you will know what to do.. And you will understand what is at stake if you do not.’’
That last line sounded very threatening, though Antonia does not fully understand what the King meant by it. Nevertheless she understands not to trifle with a royal decree from Dalgiserius.

“Yes, father,” she responds.

‘’On the morrow you will ride south away… Escorted. Then present yourself at Nanperga’s Hold.. Dare not return before you have seen this through to the end, Gastald Antonia.’’
King Dalgiserius waves with his crude iron scepter, then pointing it at the exit. ‘’Begone!’’

Antonia bows deeply at the waist before walking as quickly as possible out of the Netherhall. It's only when she makes it out into the courtyard that she allows herself to stop, sagging forward and covering her face with her hands while taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart.
“The king had good news then?” Gundiberga asks from her place beside a black rose bush. Antonia is not surprised to find her there.

“He wants me to take Udos,” she huffs, still in shock. “No one’s ever taken it and he expects me to do it!”

“Watch your tone, little fox,” Gundiberga growls, voice turning hard as steel. “Our king knows best.”
“Of course,” Antonia says after she has recomposed herself, holding her hands up in an attempt to placate her shield maiden. “I was only surprised, that's all. He wants me to become a Vestal Virgin.”

At this Gundiberga squinted and scrunched her nose up unflatteringly. “You’ve never had a man before?”

Antonia’s face turns the same color as her hair and Gundiberga erupts into a wild, cackling laughter that is unique to only her. Embarrassed, the king's ward chooses not to answer, opting instead to turn on her heel and stomp back towards her chambers at the Serius tower.

The Maimed God - (Dark Age Casual-Advanced Character RP)

@Isotope Excellent sheet! Post 'em right up with the others. I was already wondering where you were!