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Olosse's brow shot up at her first request, staying fixed in surprise at the second. He chortled, eyes sparkling.
"Did you...did you just ask to go shopping, Iris?" Another chortle, this time a bit louder.
"Oh of course! We must make sure you appear up to snuff, which won't be very difficult given who you'll be around." Thankfully Rowena did not stir at the slightly derogatory comment about Vadrudorian aesthetics.
"It's a good ploy, of course. Many will be on guard around you, especially with the reputation the Shadows have among the general populace, but if they get to see you unfettered from...that-" He motioned at her uniform.
"They'll absolutely be more spirited, maybe even let slip a few things we can file away for later. To think that Iris, my stalwart defender, will be my companion. I'm tickled." Olosse walked to a nearby dresser, opening the heavy wooden drawer at the very top.
"But I'm afraid we'll have to go through business first, won't be? I'll need you to look very Shadowy and menacing if it comes to it. Find the two other guards that are probably around here somewhere and meet me down at the Vikar's Light. It's in the Victory quarter, closest to the harbor and the least civilized part of the capitol. When I arrive, follow me inside and do not engage with anyone until I say so. I'll need to grease some palms and spin a few lewd yarns, so I'm not expecting trouble, but if we do, I'll be sure to let you know." Olosse withdrew garb fit for the occasion: a blue short-sleeved shirt with a ruffled collar and sandals that had trails of dirt stuck to the bottom. The pants would stay on. His eyes caught Iris once more, drawing closer to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I can't thank you enough for all you've done so far. The dirty work of politics is unseemly at best." A smile.
"Which is why I cannot wait to see you in a ballgown. I'm suspect you'll enjoy the night off from blood and villainy...although I suppose you'll be encountering the latter tomorrow night, just more dressed up."
The Vikar's Light was a two-story building assembled with wooden planks, nails and apparently a lack of geometric awareness. The tavern's walls weren't properly rectangular or square nor did the building sit level, but instead sloped upward almost 30 degrees ,providing a very strange seating arrangement inside where tables stood at odd angles and dartboards mounted on the peak of the slope were there for the sport of seeing who could actually make five darts stick in a row. The trappings of a seedy tavern (dirt, soot, fluids of a questionable nature, sweat, etc) were all present, Olosse's nose wrinkling upon entering. It had been at least a year or so since he had come to visit Malaya, wondering silently if she was occupied (and he hoped she was. He wouldn't want Iris to see his more...well, hopefully she was busy).
"Well, our favorite piece of royal scum comes to visit after all this time, eh?!" A man with massive forearms and an even larger chest stood behind the bar, face flush with heat and activity, beard wagging.
"Jove in the flesh! Wonderful, wonderful, the place hasn't lost the crust yet!" A few chuckles from the regulars as Olose sauntered to the bar, the duo clasping hands with the former's right hand finding itself occupied with a handful of coin, earning Olosse a grateful nod.
"How long will you be gracing us with your presence till you go to visit-"
"Oh hush, hush, Jove, let's talk business for a minute." Olosse leaned forward, Jove mirroring the liege's posture.
"What in the bloody continent's name is going on at the docks, Jove?" A grunt as the large man leaned back, shaking his head, motioning to the tavern.
"A people oppressed, your liege, a people tired of it's oppressors."
"Here here!" Some of the regulars echoed.
"So much so that your children are commodities?" A grimace.
"It's better than what they have here." Olosse's hands gripped the counter.
"You're doing this on purpose?" Jove leaned forward again, forearms on the counter.
"Whatever you heard about the docks isn't all it seems. The Altans-"
"The bloody pirates?!"
"Keep your voice low, your liege." Olosse remained silent.
"One and the same, the Atlans offer us safe passage, families and children alike, from here to the Isles." The Isles of Manka were a part of the Iron Collective, a small cluster of land masses about 50 leagues off the coast that have been a haven for pirates, mercenaries and other ne'er do wells, but also a great place for those who want to hide .
"What could be so important to enact such a scheme?" Jove shook his head.
"Can't say much."
"Sure you can. With enough co-"
"No amount of coin in the world is going to stop what's coming to that blight Rakuhor." Chairs scraped behind Olosse as several men surrounded him.
"We know what you're here to do, Prince; call it off and get out of the city now. Stay, and your mother won't be mourning just your fa-" Olosse withdrew a dagger strapped underneath his shirt from it's holster hanging on his lower back and lunged over the counter, tip at Jove's throat.
"I dare you to finish your sentence." The prince hissed, eyes aflame.
"You won't...leave here...alive..." Jove's adam apple danced against the blade held at his throat as he smiled, the crowd of men closing in on Olosse.
"Shadows! We're in for it, tonight!"
"Did you...did you just ask to go shopping, Iris?" Another chortle, this time a bit louder.
"Oh of course! We must make sure you appear up to snuff, which won't be very difficult given who you'll be around." Thankfully Rowena did not stir at the slightly derogatory comment about Vadrudorian aesthetics.
"It's a good ploy, of course. Many will be on guard around you, especially with the reputation the Shadows have among the general populace, but if they get to see you unfettered from...that-" He motioned at her uniform.
"They'll absolutely be more spirited, maybe even let slip a few things we can file away for later. To think that Iris, my stalwart defender, will be my companion. I'm tickled." Olosse walked to a nearby dresser, opening the heavy wooden drawer at the very top.
"But I'm afraid we'll have to go through business first, won't be? I'll need you to look very Shadowy and menacing if it comes to it. Find the two other guards that are probably around here somewhere and meet me down at the Vikar's Light. It's in the Victory quarter, closest to the harbor and the least civilized part of the capitol. When I arrive, follow me inside and do not engage with anyone until I say so. I'll need to grease some palms and spin a few lewd yarns, so I'm not expecting trouble, but if we do, I'll be sure to let you know." Olosse withdrew garb fit for the occasion: a blue short-sleeved shirt with a ruffled collar and sandals that had trails of dirt stuck to the bottom. The pants would stay on. His eyes caught Iris once more, drawing closer to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I can't thank you enough for all you've done so far. The dirty work of politics is unseemly at best." A smile.
"Which is why I cannot wait to see you in a ballgown. I'm suspect you'll enjoy the night off from blood and villainy...although I suppose you'll be encountering the latter tomorrow night, just more dressed up."
The Vikar's Light was a two-story building assembled with wooden planks, nails and apparently a lack of geometric awareness. The tavern's walls weren't properly rectangular or square nor did the building sit level, but instead sloped upward almost 30 degrees ,providing a very strange seating arrangement inside where tables stood at odd angles and dartboards mounted on the peak of the slope were there for the sport of seeing who could actually make five darts stick in a row. The trappings of a seedy tavern (dirt, soot, fluids of a questionable nature, sweat, etc) were all present, Olosse's nose wrinkling upon entering. It had been at least a year or so since he had come to visit Malaya, wondering silently if she was occupied (and he hoped she was. He wouldn't want Iris to see his more...well, hopefully she was busy).
"Well, our favorite piece of royal scum comes to visit after all this time, eh?!" A man with massive forearms and an even larger chest stood behind the bar, face flush with heat and activity, beard wagging.
"Jove in the flesh! Wonderful, wonderful, the place hasn't lost the crust yet!" A few chuckles from the regulars as Olose sauntered to the bar, the duo clasping hands with the former's right hand finding itself occupied with a handful of coin, earning Olosse a grateful nod.
"How long will you be gracing us with your presence till you go to visit-"
"Oh hush, hush, Jove, let's talk business for a minute." Olosse leaned forward, Jove mirroring the liege's posture.
"What in the bloody continent's name is going on at the docks, Jove?" A grunt as the large man leaned back, shaking his head, motioning to the tavern.
"A people oppressed, your liege, a people tired of it's oppressors."
"Here here!" Some of the regulars echoed.
"So much so that your children are commodities?" A grimace.
"It's better than what they have here." Olosse's hands gripped the counter.
"You're doing this on purpose?" Jove leaned forward again, forearms on the counter.
"Whatever you heard about the docks isn't all it seems. The Altans-"
"The bloody pirates?!"
"Keep your voice low, your liege." Olosse remained silent.
"One and the same, the Atlans offer us safe passage, families and children alike, from here to the Isles." The Isles of Manka were a part of the Iron Collective, a small cluster of land masses about 50 leagues off the coast that have been a haven for pirates, mercenaries and other ne'er do wells, but also a great place for those who want to hide .
"What could be so important to enact such a scheme?" Jove shook his head.
"Can't say much."
"Sure you can. With enough co-"
"No amount of coin in the world is going to stop what's coming to that blight Rakuhor." Chairs scraped behind Olosse as several men surrounded him.
"We know what you're here to do, Prince; call it off and get out of the city now. Stay, and your mother won't be mourning just your fa-" Olosse withdrew a dagger strapped underneath his shirt from it's holster hanging on his lower back and lunged over the counter, tip at Jove's throat.
"I dare you to finish your sentence." The prince hissed, eyes aflame.
"You won't...leave here...alive..." Jove's adam apple danced against the blade held at his throat as he smiled, the crowd of men closing in on Olosse.
"Shadows! We're in for it, tonight!"
"Come on, give it up."
Nope
An exasperated sigh.
"You can't actually expect me to throw something like that."
Yes!
Another sigh.
"Just...come here." The stubborn creature ambled to the sigher, tail wagging furiously as it dropped the fragment of an Order of the Companion chestpiece, more than likely belonging to one of the many paladins that fell during the mysterious plague that occurred in this area not a few years ago. His deep green irises ran over the scratches and cracks, silvery black hair ruffling slightly as he shifted forward, running his hand over the solid white coat of who he considered to be one of his closest friends (Gale was slightly miffed by Scratch's place in the pantheon of friends, but then again, the wizard did enjoy giving Scratch belly rubs, so maybe they had formed an understanding).
"What a reminder." The half elf mumbled, tossing the chestpiece aside. What was it a reminder of, he wondered. The amount of suffering and death that this part of the Coast had seen over the years? Maybe the idea of a massive plague and people panicking in the streets hit too close to home; after all, it had only been six months since Baldur's Gate had withstood one of the most disastrous events in it's history, almost coming close to becoming the origin site of the final Grand Design (or at least, he hoped. Please by the Seldarine, no more Illithids). There were times even at home, sitting by their hearth in the quiet evenings, that memories surged back, threatening to drag him back to where he was only six months ago: trapped in that blasted pod, no memory of how he had gotten there, only knowing that his life as a monk in the Open Hand cloister had suddenly been upended.
He chuckled, rising from his once prone position. Maybe that's how his family had felt when he left Baldur's gate at the ripe age of 20 to discover the world, leaving behind his parents and younger brother to pursue a "purer" way than that of being minor nobility in Baldur's Gate. His father was grieved by his decision especially, seeing as Father had expected him to succeed him in his position as Assistant Chancellor of trade, wanting his work and sacrifices as one of the first High Elves holding position within the Coast. He had argued with Father before he left, railing against materialism, social caste systems and alienation from the self. It was all so moronic now, to not have just had an honest conversation with his father, who now along with his mother and younger brother occupied graves in the city as a result of a Bhaal cultist murdering them in broad daylight not too long before they arrived in the city (a legal missive had come from the family's lawyer, who received the travelers in the city and confirmed every horrid detail). No doubt Orin had ordered the attack to spite him, just like she tried to spite all of them. A vindictive smirk crossed his lips, knowing that the abomination was gone from this life for good.
He felt a gentle nudge at his leg, the half-elf looking down to see Scratch's tongue lolling out, eyes sparkling.
"You're right; no use dwelling on the past. Besides, our lovely Shadow is going to be wondering why it took us so long to retrieve ingredients for dinner." Indeed, he had set out when the sun was at it's peak, but now it was beginning to creep down towards the horizon. Their patch of happiness was located in-between Baldur's gate and Elturiel (or at least, what's left of it), but there were several small villages that dotted the path and Soubar, a walled town that was the most thriving in the area and had the best shops for the concoctions that he and Shadowheart created in the kitchen and alchemy lab (while not as good as his love at alchemic creations, he was getting the hang of it). Soubar was only about an hour's walk from their home, but maybe it was the detour to the chapel of Bane that he sidetracked him (no, not maybe, definitely). He hadn't had the courage to investigate the chapel until today, he and Scratch poking around the abandoned building to find little of value except for a few manuscripts written by zealots of Bane that outlined the god's teachings on cruelty and murder along with the chestpiece that Scratch had found.
"Nuvyen! Nuvyen!" The half-elf stood fully upright now, his broad frame (inherited from his mother's human side) striding forward out of the grounds of the chapel back into the town proper to greet the caller, who happened to be the shopkeeper he had been talking with earlier.
"I've got the Orchids all ready for you just like you asked."
"Wonderful. She'll absolutely love them, thank you." Along with the satchel of ingredients, Nuvyen had decided to purchase an arrangement of Night Orchids for their quite barren dinner table (all of their flora, fauna and crops were still not ready to be used thanks to just purchasing their land only three or so months ago).
"Tell the lady I send my greetings."
On the walk back, Nuvyen couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that this area of the Coast featured, especially due to being called "The Fields of the Dead". Tree lined paths, flora bursting out of seemingly every nook and cranny...it was actually quite perfect, which made their home and plot of land even more of a gift to be grateful for. They had roamed for three months after the Netherbrain was defeated, fending off Sharran assassins (while nearly naked. Fun times. He liked to remind Shadowheart of how great she looked while stabbing one of the assassins in the throat), going north to Waterdeep, somehow befriending an imp named Bing Bong that refused to stop following them until one day it suddenly vanished; yet, those adventures paled in comparison to the day a missive from Wyll had found it's way to them, telling them to meet him outside Elturel. It so happened that on his way with his retinue (because he had a retinue now) to sign formal treaties and do other political nonsense (his words) with the new government of Elturgard, he had passed an abandoned home with land that, upon investigation, had belonged to a husband and wife that moved out of Elturel and had died with no children to claim it. Remembering Shadowheart's love for animals and Nuvyen's desire to settle down somewhere, the Grand Duke purchased the home for the couple, asking only that they send some of their finest bounty to the budding refugee settlements that needed starter plants and seeds. It was a grand gesture on Wyll, but of course, their friend was prone to grand gestures in all things(Nuvyen remembered in the delirious moments after the Netherbrain was defeated, Wyll was the first to speak, waving his arms grandiosely, proclaiming that their names should be etched on the annals of history forever...or something like that).
Nuvyen could finally see their home, flanked by the aspiring gardens and plots of crops that they were tending to.
Home. He grinned.
"Go on, Scratch. I think someone else is going to want to see you." Their owlbear guardian should be around somewhere, which should mean that Shadowheart wouldn't be too far behind.
Nope
An exasperated sigh.
"You can't actually expect me to throw something like that."
Yes!
Another sigh.
"Just...come here." The stubborn creature ambled to the sigher, tail wagging furiously as it dropped the fragment of an Order of the Companion chestpiece, more than likely belonging to one of the many paladins that fell during the mysterious plague that occurred in this area not a few years ago. His deep green irises ran over the scratches and cracks, silvery black hair ruffling slightly as he shifted forward, running his hand over the solid white coat of who he considered to be one of his closest friends (Gale was slightly miffed by Scratch's place in the pantheon of friends, but then again, the wizard did enjoy giving Scratch belly rubs, so maybe they had formed an understanding).
"What a reminder." The half elf mumbled, tossing the chestpiece aside. What was it a reminder of, he wondered. The amount of suffering and death that this part of the Coast had seen over the years? Maybe the idea of a massive plague and people panicking in the streets hit too close to home; after all, it had only been six months since Baldur's Gate had withstood one of the most disastrous events in it's history, almost coming close to becoming the origin site of the final Grand Design (or at least, he hoped. Please by the Seldarine, no more Illithids). There were times even at home, sitting by their hearth in the quiet evenings, that memories surged back, threatening to drag him back to where he was only six months ago: trapped in that blasted pod, no memory of how he had gotten there, only knowing that his life as a monk in the Open Hand cloister had suddenly been upended.
He chuckled, rising from his once prone position. Maybe that's how his family had felt when he left Baldur's gate at the ripe age of 20 to discover the world, leaving behind his parents and younger brother to pursue a "purer" way than that of being minor nobility in Baldur's Gate. His father was grieved by his decision especially, seeing as Father had expected him to succeed him in his position as Assistant Chancellor of trade, wanting his work and sacrifices as one of the first High Elves holding position within the Coast. He had argued with Father before he left, railing against materialism, social caste systems and alienation from the self. It was all so moronic now, to not have just had an honest conversation with his father, who now along with his mother and younger brother occupied graves in the city as a result of a Bhaal cultist murdering them in broad daylight not too long before they arrived in the city (a legal missive had come from the family's lawyer, who received the travelers in the city and confirmed every horrid detail). No doubt Orin had ordered the attack to spite him, just like she tried to spite all of them. A vindictive smirk crossed his lips, knowing that the abomination was gone from this life for good.
He felt a gentle nudge at his leg, the half-elf looking down to see Scratch's tongue lolling out, eyes sparkling.
"You're right; no use dwelling on the past. Besides, our lovely Shadow is going to be wondering why it took us so long to retrieve ingredients for dinner." Indeed, he had set out when the sun was at it's peak, but now it was beginning to creep down towards the horizon. Their patch of happiness was located in-between Baldur's gate and Elturiel (or at least, what's left of it), but there were several small villages that dotted the path and Soubar, a walled town that was the most thriving in the area and had the best shops for the concoctions that he and Shadowheart created in the kitchen and alchemy lab (while not as good as his love at alchemic creations, he was getting the hang of it). Soubar was only about an hour's walk from their home, but maybe it was the detour to the chapel of Bane that he sidetracked him (no, not maybe, definitely). He hadn't had the courage to investigate the chapel until today, he and Scratch poking around the abandoned building to find little of value except for a few manuscripts written by zealots of Bane that outlined the god's teachings on cruelty and murder along with the chestpiece that Scratch had found.
"Nuvyen! Nuvyen!" The half-elf stood fully upright now, his broad frame (inherited from his mother's human side) striding forward out of the grounds of the chapel back into the town proper to greet the caller, who happened to be the shopkeeper he had been talking with earlier.
"I've got the Orchids all ready for you just like you asked."
"Wonderful. She'll absolutely love them, thank you." Along with the satchel of ingredients, Nuvyen had decided to purchase an arrangement of Night Orchids for their quite barren dinner table (all of their flora, fauna and crops were still not ready to be used thanks to just purchasing their land only three or so months ago).
"Tell the lady I send my greetings."
On the walk back, Nuvyen couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that this area of the Coast featured, especially due to being called "The Fields of the Dead". Tree lined paths, flora bursting out of seemingly every nook and cranny...it was actually quite perfect, which made their home and plot of land even more of a gift to be grateful for. They had roamed for three months after the Netherbrain was defeated, fending off Sharran assassins (while nearly naked. Fun times. He liked to remind Shadowheart of how great she looked while stabbing one of the assassins in the throat), going north to Waterdeep, somehow befriending an imp named Bing Bong that refused to stop following them until one day it suddenly vanished; yet, those adventures paled in comparison to the day a missive from Wyll had found it's way to them, telling them to meet him outside Elturel. It so happened that on his way with his retinue (because he had a retinue now) to sign formal treaties and do other political nonsense (his words) with the new government of Elturgard, he had passed an abandoned home with land that, upon investigation, had belonged to a husband and wife that moved out of Elturel and had died with no children to claim it. Remembering Shadowheart's love for animals and Nuvyen's desire to settle down somewhere, the Grand Duke purchased the home for the couple, asking only that they send some of their finest bounty to the budding refugee settlements that needed starter plants and seeds. It was a grand gesture on Wyll, but of course, their friend was prone to grand gestures in all things(Nuvyen remembered in the delirious moments after the Netherbrain was defeated, Wyll was the first to speak, waving his arms grandiosely, proclaiming that their names should be etched on the annals of history forever...or something like that).
Nuvyen could finally see their home, flanked by the aspiring gardens and plots of crops that they were tending to.
Home. He grinned.
"Go on, Scratch. I think someone else is going to want to see you." Their owlbear guardian should be around somewhere, which should mean that Shadowheart wouldn't be too far behind.
Hey! IC thread incoming.
Hey folks! I've got a main IC linked at the bottom of the post, but I just beat BG3 and I'm hankering to continue the adventures that I had with one of you wonderful people. If you have no idea what BG3 is, but the plot framework intrigues you and you're willing for me to help set the stage for you, I'm totally down for that. Obviously if you've played, are playing or beat the game, the lore helps, but it's not suuuper necessary unless you pick one of the character specific prompts below.
Let me know what you think by shooting me a PM! I'd love to chat!
Idea 1:
Premise: With the Elder Brain defeated and Baldur's Gate rebuilding from the chaos that the Chosen Three would have inflicted on the Sword Coast, the heroes of Faerun have all but disappeared from the limelight thanks to the relative peace that has come over the land. Yet, a traveller to Baldur's Gate stumbles upon a series of carved runes arranged in a circle, each with a mysterious symbol on them. In the center of the circle lies a bloodied heap of a person, their life essence barely clinging to their corporeal form. What happened to this pour soul? What are these runes?
Idea 2
Premise: With the Elder Brain defeated, the half-Elf Nuvyen [MC] and his love, Shadowheart [YC], seek solitude in the northern part of the Coast. Just a few months pass by until a bloodied note posted on their door reminds them both that Shar is still watching, hungering for the power that Shadowheart innately has within her. The note simply states: "Return to where you were born".
Note: Shadowheart was by far the sweetest character and so I'm very eager to play this idea out.
Idea 3:
Premise: As Baldur's gate rebuilds from the chaos of the Netherbrain attacks, the city contends with the formation of underground cults that worship the very monsters that sought to enslave them. Unrest threatens to grip the city, which means that Wyll Ravengard, Heart of the gate, is looking for brave souls willing to investigate where these cults are within the city and strike them down. MC is already enlisted in the fight, but is looking for a companion to assist him...
Idea 4:
Premise: While Baldur's gate was enveloped in utter chaos, another conspiracy was brewing in the humble(r) city of Waterdeep, where a horde of treasure is coveted by several guild factions that seek to gain control of Waterdeep and extend their influence down the Coast. With Baldur's gate in shambles, now would be the time to find this treasure and assert control.
Note: Totally flexible. If you want to do opposite factions, same factions, neutral party trying to seize the treasure, etc.
Link to main IC: roleplayerguild.com/topics/192388-oat…
Let me know what you think by shooting me a PM! I'd love to chat!
Idea 1:
Premise: With the Elder Brain defeated and Baldur's Gate rebuilding from the chaos that the Chosen Three would have inflicted on the Sword Coast, the heroes of Faerun have all but disappeared from the limelight thanks to the relative peace that has come over the land. Yet, a traveller to Baldur's Gate stumbles upon a series of carved runes arranged in a circle, each with a mysterious symbol on them. In the center of the circle lies a bloodied heap of a person, their life essence barely clinging to their corporeal form. What happened to this pour soul? What are these runes?
Idea 2
Premise: With the Elder Brain defeated, the half-Elf Nuvyen [MC] and his love, Shadowheart [YC], seek solitude in the northern part of the Coast. Just a few months pass by until a bloodied note posted on their door reminds them both that Shar is still watching, hungering for the power that Shadowheart innately has within her. The note simply states: "Return to where you were born".
Note: Shadowheart was by far the sweetest character and so I'm very eager to play this idea out.
Idea 3:
Premise: As Baldur's gate rebuilds from the chaos of the Netherbrain attacks, the city contends with the formation of underground cults that worship the very monsters that sought to enslave them. Unrest threatens to grip the city, which means that Wyll Ravengard, Heart of the gate, is looking for brave souls willing to investigate where these cults are within the city and strike them down. MC is already enlisted in the fight, but is looking for a companion to assist him...
Idea 4:
Premise: While Baldur's gate was enveloped in utter chaos, another conspiracy was brewing in the humble(r) city of Waterdeep, where a horde of treasure is coveted by several guild factions that seek to gain control of Waterdeep and extend their influence down the Coast. With Baldur's gate in shambles, now would be the time to find this treasure and assert control.
Note: Totally flexible. If you want to do opposite factions, same factions, neutral party trying to seize the treasure, etc.
Link to main IC: roleplayerguild.com/topics/192388-oat…
Olosse wrapped her ankle with the bandages, his eyes bouncing from what he was doing (didn't want to mess this up) to Iris' mournful gaze. It was odd to see her emote, let alone cry; no, odd wasn't the right word. Humanizing, maybe? Yes that was it. Iris had, no doubt due to her occupation, managed to keep herself at arms length (and then some) from the prince, allowing Olosse to see her as a valuable tool, yes, but as a person with emotions, dreams and aspirations? Not always. There had been a few moments in the last several years where he had seen brief flickers of passion spark from behind her normally stoic masquerade, so to see this...well, Olosse was moved.
Wrapping up her ankle completely, he grimaced, wiping the tears that were visible from her face (touching more skin in the process...humanizing indeed) before allowing a few moments of silence to pass between them, the only other noises in the room piercing the silence being Rowena's once-again ragged gasps for air and the gentle breeze the fluttered the curtains on the patio that Iris had made her appearance on.
"The Vikar must be in more dire straits than we thought." He stood up, hair rustling.
"Nowhere in the Vadrudorian annals that I've read indicate that child slavery was ever a tactic in the past...it makes me wonder if we haven't walked in on something much more complex than we knew." Iris' words about Arel rang through his mind.
"You mentioned rations? And unrest? If the city is a tightened bow ready for the arrow to be launched, I wonder how desperate Rakuhor is for this alliance...and if this alliance is borne out of necessity rather than actual long term political gain. I certainly wouldn't want us to sign this treaty only for the Ishmeldian regiments to get pulled out of the kingdom to quell an insurrection that we weren't warned about." Olosse had begun pacing in the middle of this semi-monologue, armed folded across his bare chest, hand cupping his chin. He paused in the center of the room.
"Then again, this could all just be a front for something much more sinister and if there's anything Father taught me, it's that the first impression of a thing is normally the farthest from the truth of a matter." The liege in waiting turned to face Iris fully.
"You said that you were spotted?" He chuckled, motioning to her.
"Well of course you were, you got into quite a scrape." He tapped his foot a couple of times, eyes looking her over.
"And yet you managed to let those in the Bludless and those helping them understand that their actions are not only being watched, but threatened, which will only accelerate their desire to make good on their plans, whatever they are." A pause.
"Which then means that tomorrow night's banquet will be a prime target for their hypothetical 'storming of the castle'." He huffed a sigh, shaking his head as he cast a glance at the patio.
"Iris, darling, I have a favor to ask of you." He motioned to the patio, index finger pointed at the cityscape beneath.
"I need you to accompany me into the city. I want to go to a specific tavern, one that I've frequented in the past when I was...well, I don't think I asked you to accompany me to said tavern, but I do know that there are many, many unsavory characters who might be willing to give us more of a 'boots on the ground' perspective so to speak." He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing. Olosse had indeed visited this tavern multiple times, without his shadowguard or anyone else knowing for...specific visits to specific individuals of the opposite gender. Along the way he had forged a few connections with those who were more than content to keep his identity a secret in exchange for generous contributions to the tavern's upkeep. As a future liege in waiting, he knew that having unsavory connections could and would pay off; it just so happened this might be one of those times.
"All I would ask is that you take two of the others with us and the three of you remain in the shadows until I signal for you to appear, if at all. Allow me to work the locals and see what information I can find out. If all goes well, we might be able to get some solid evidence I can present at tomorrow's signing and get the truth out of Rakuhor." A slight smile creased his youthful face.
"I can feel the anxiety welling up inside of you already and I assure you, this isn't a request, my dear. It's an order. I need your help now more than ever." He approached her chair, kneeling across a foot or so away.
"But feel free to give me advice before we venture out; if there's anything I'm missing, I'd love to know." Olosse stared deep into Iris'..well, irises, and found himself wondering what lay behind that mask, what features HE was missing out on viewing. It was difficult to read one's expressions when hidden behind something like the Shadowguard's uniform, but he was especially curious about his own guard more than ever.
Wrapping up her ankle completely, he grimaced, wiping the tears that were visible from her face (touching more skin in the process...humanizing indeed) before allowing a few moments of silence to pass between them, the only other noises in the room piercing the silence being Rowena's once-again ragged gasps for air and the gentle breeze the fluttered the curtains on the patio that Iris had made her appearance on.
"The Vikar must be in more dire straits than we thought." He stood up, hair rustling.
"Nowhere in the Vadrudorian annals that I've read indicate that child slavery was ever a tactic in the past...it makes me wonder if we haven't walked in on something much more complex than we knew." Iris' words about Arel rang through his mind.
"You mentioned rations? And unrest? If the city is a tightened bow ready for the arrow to be launched, I wonder how desperate Rakuhor is for this alliance...and if this alliance is borne out of necessity rather than actual long term political gain. I certainly wouldn't want us to sign this treaty only for the Ishmeldian regiments to get pulled out of the kingdom to quell an insurrection that we weren't warned about." Olosse had begun pacing in the middle of this semi-monologue, armed folded across his bare chest, hand cupping his chin. He paused in the center of the room.
"Then again, this could all just be a front for something much more sinister and if there's anything Father taught me, it's that the first impression of a thing is normally the farthest from the truth of a matter." The liege in waiting turned to face Iris fully.
"You said that you were spotted?" He chuckled, motioning to her.
"Well of course you were, you got into quite a scrape." He tapped his foot a couple of times, eyes looking her over.
"And yet you managed to let those in the Bludless and those helping them understand that their actions are not only being watched, but threatened, which will only accelerate their desire to make good on their plans, whatever they are." A pause.
"Which then means that tomorrow night's banquet will be a prime target for their hypothetical 'storming of the castle'." He huffed a sigh, shaking his head as he cast a glance at the patio.
"Iris, darling, I have a favor to ask of you." He motioned to the patio, index finger pointed at the cityscape beneath.
"I need you to accompany me into the city. I want to go to a specific tavern, one that I've frequented in the past when I was...well, I don't think I asked you to accompany me to said tavern, but I do know that there are many, many unsavory characters who might be willing to give us more of a 'boots on the ground' perspective so to speak." He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing. Olosse had indeed visited this tavern multiple times, without his shadowguard or anyone else knowing for...specific visits to specific individuals of the opposite gender. Along the way he had forged a few connections with those who were more than content to keep his identity a secret in exchange for generous contributions to the tavern's upkeep. As a future liege in waiting, he knew that having unsavory connections could and would pay off; it just so happened this might be one of those times.
"All I would ask is that you take two of the others with us and the three of you remain in the shadows until I signal for you to appear, if at all. Allow me to work the locals and see what information I can find out. If all goes well, we might be able to get some solid evidence I can present at tomorrow's signing and get the truth out of Rakuhor." A slight smile creased his youthful face.
"I can feel the anxiety welling up inside of you already and I assure you, this isn't a request, my dear. It's an order. I need your help now more than ever." He approached her chair, kneeling across a foot or so away.
"But feel free to give me advice before we venture out; if there's anything I'm missing, I'd love to know." Olosse stared deep into Iris'..well, irises, and found himself wondering what lay behind that mask, what features HE was missing out on viewing. It was difficult to read one's expressions when hidden behind something like the Shadowguard's uniform, but he was especially curious about his own guard more than ever.
Olosse’s eyes widened, back stiffening at the sight of his Shadowguard. If she hadn’t been in the state she presented herself in currently, he would want to get more information than just “All information has been confirmed”, but now his current priority was to ensure that Iris got the medicine she needed. The future king needed Iris at her best for tomorrow evening’s potentially fiery ball. He strode over to Iris, placing a hand on her cheek and wiped away some of the caked blood, clicking his tongue off the roof of his mouth.
“No need to apologize, Iris. Come, let’s get you the attention you need.” He thought he had seen Iris’ eyes fall on the now silently sleeping Rowena, prompting a flip of the wrist.
“Don’t worry about her. Rowena might have enjoyed the evening, but something tells me that she’s more of an evening companion than a permanent one. Let’s see what we can do to get you back in action.”
Albeit Iris probably would protest at Olosse’s fussing, he helped her over to an overstuffed chair by the window he had previously occupied before peeking his head out of the doorway to his quarters and asking the guard posted there to fetch him bandages, alcohol and other assorted medical paraphernalia that prompted an almost stream of questions, Olosse holding up a hand to cease the line of questioning and inferred that his amorous activities had become very Vadrudorian and needed the appropriate recovery methods. This stopped the questioning and brought supplies to his quarters, which allowed for Olosse to kneel at Iris’ feet, grimacing slightly at her ankle.
“Dear Iris, what on earth happened out there?” Father had insisted that Olosse learn basic battlefield skills in case he was ever thrust into a conflict without his Shadows or the Ishmeldian regiments at his beck and call, one of those skills being basic (BASIC) medical assessment and wound dressing.
“I can patch you up with what little I know; don’t bear too much of a grudge if it’s not comparable to your knowledge…which it isn’t.” As he began to roll up Iris’ legging, he ran a hand over her exposed ankle and shin. Goodness her skin was practically flawless, glowing even; it was then he realized this was the most exposure of her body that he had ever seen.
“Now, as I take care of this, do be more specific. What exactly did you confirm on your tour of the capital?”
“No need to apologize, Iris. Come, let’s get you the attention you need.” He thought he had seen Iris’ eyes fall on the now silently sleeping Rowena, prompting a flip of the wrist.
“Don’t worry about her. Rowena might have enjoyed the evening, but something tells me that she’s more of an evening companion than a permanent one. Let’s see what we can do to get you back in action.”
Albeit Iris probably would protest at Olosse’s fussing, he helped her over to an overstuffed chair by the window he had previously occupied before peeking his head out of the doorway to his quarters and asking the guard posted there to fetch him bandages, alcohol and other assorted medical paraphernalia that prompted an almost stream of questions, Olosse holding up a hand to cease the line of questioning and inferred that his amorous activities had become very Vadrudorian and needed the appropriate recovery methods. This stopped the questioning and brought supplies to his quarters, which allowed for Olosse to kneel at Iris’ feet, grimacing slightly at her ankle.
“Dear Iris, what on earth happened out there?” Father had insisted that Olosse learn basic battlefield skills in case he was ever thrust into a conflict without his Shadows or the Ishmeldian regiments at his beck and call, one of those skills being basic (BASIC) medical assessment and wound dressing.
“I can patch you up with what little I know; don’t bear too much of a grudge if it’s not comparable to your knowledge…which it isn’t.” As he began to roll up Iris’ legging, he ran a hand over her exposed ankle and shin. Goodness her skin was practically flawless, glowing even; it was then he realized this was the most exposure of her body that he had ever seen.
“Now, as I take care of this, do be more specific. What exactly did you confirm on your tour of the capital?”
Iris’ words prompted a mixture of skepticism and caution, Olosse sitting up taller in the carriage.
“Arel? You deem him untrustworthy? This is news to me. What proof do you have of this?” Arel had served faithfully under his father for as long as the prince could remember in a variety of roles: royal advisor, lead emissary, trade viceroy and the last two years of his father’s life, acting Chancellor. All of the aforementioned roles had been filled admirably by a man who had been called multiple times by his father as the most trustworthy man he had ever called a friend. By the Mountains, Arel had even been appointed Guardian of the Estate if something were to happen to both sons, essentially giving Arel formal parental rights over Libea and the rest of the Bytaus’ family assets.
Then again, Iris wouldn’t have said something this potentially inflammatory if she didn’t have a good reason for it.
“Nothing you say will get back to hi-”
“We’re being approached on horseback, My Liege. Black and white armor with the Vadrudorian flag mounted on each steed.” Olosse gently put a hand briefly on Iris’ knee.
“We’ll continue this later.” A gentle smile.
“And the only way I survive any potential danger is if you’re with me, so consider any promise of my safe return fulfilled as long as you stay by me and get us all back home.” With an endearing, light squeeze, he withdrew the hand and pulled back the curtains on the carriage window to reveal a heavily armored Horde captain in full regalia (if one could consider the Horde’s standard uniform that).
“My Liege Olosse Bytaus, the Vikar has sent us to escort you and your party to the Palace. Please command your subordinates to follow my lead and do not deviate from the road we take.” Olosse mustered a warm smile before asking:
“And who might be leading us to the Palace?” The captain thumped his fist against the hardened metal breastplate that adorned his massive frame twice.
“Captain Arneus, My Liege. It is an honor.”
“Nay, the honor is mine, Captain.” Olosse stuck his head out of the window to spot five Horde soldiers that were pointing at the carriages, no doubt dividing the labor.
“Not that I’m ungrateful for the escort, Captain, but when the Chancellor asked your Vikar for protection, I wasn’t expecting any of the Horde, but rather the city guard.”
“Too much unrest at the moment, My Liege; the Vikar didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Chances with what?” The captain hesitated.
“Some in the city believe that they are more suited to offer direction for Vadrudor than the Vikar and seek to undermine him. We are in control of the situation, I assure you, My Liege.”
“Of that there is no doubt.” The captain’s barrel chest heaved outward, a confident grin briefly passing over his face before resuming the dour look of servitude he had.
“Are you ready to continue forward, My LIege?”
“Indeed. Carry on, Captain.” With a shout of command, the carriages ambled forward , Arneus taking the lead and the other five surrounding the carriage in a two by two by one formation. Olosse nodded to the now curtained window.
“Well, there’s some confirmed intelligence for you, Iris. If the Horde is enforcing the law in the capital, things might be as unstable as we think.” He collected his thoughts for a few minutes, allowing the silence to organize his orders before telling his companion:
“I need you to do some reconnaissance while I’m meeting with the Vikar and his representatives. I don’t know how many other of the Shadowguard are here nor do I need to know, but as their squadron leader, assign two of them to me and ensure they remain visible. The Shadows have a powerful enough reputation even here in this militaristic society that ne’er-do-wells will think twice about an assassination attempt. As for you-” He handed her the intelligence reports he had been perusing.
“I want you to follow any leads on quite literally any of these reports; codify your findings and..” He was going to tell Iris to send them directly to Arel, but without knowing what grounds Iris had for her suspicions, he changed his mind:
“Directly return to my quarters this evening. There won’t be very much in the way of activities tonight with the formal ball tomorrow; let’s take advantage of this time and see what we may be walking into.” He half-smiled.
“And do try to stay out of sight. Your…assets are going to be admired even more so in a place like Vadrudor where the men are more forward and the women more receptive. If you DO find yourself in a tight spot, just…no messes. Make sure no one finds the body…or bodies.”
Olosse found himself at the top of one of the spires that jutted menacingly upward from the imposing stone walls of the Palace, gazing out one of the few windows on the illuminated capital city below. There wasn’t much architectural imagination in the design, each quarter designed in a roughly square manner with massive partitions between each to separate them (or isolate them in case of an uprising or unlawful rioting, which happened far too often), and yet there was a beautiful simplicity to the city that, despite the manner of folk that dwelled in it, charmed him. Speaking of charming, the Vikar had done his best to receive the retinue, throwing a lavish dinner for Olosse and his party along with the families of Rakuhor’s closest court allies. In true Vadrudorian fashion, Olosse was prompted to select one of the ladies-in-waiting of the queen as a welcoming gift, said lady-in-waiting wrapped up in a tangled heap of sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she slept. He shot her a quick glance, snorting a chuckle as his hands slipped comfortably into loose, flowing pants that had been thrown off a bit earlier in the evening. Rowena was a sweet girl, but a bit dull; nevertheless, if custom dictated that His LIege indulged, then so be it.
His gaze returned to the city, wondering silently if Iris had managed to follow up on any pertinent information from the reports he had been looking at earlier. He longed to be on the streets with her, pounding the pavement so to speak. The royal life had wonderful perks, but he itched for a more practical role, one that could DO rather than command.
He felt a gentle breeze waft from behind him. Had Iris returned?
“Arel? You deem him untrustworthy? This is news to me. What proof do you have of this?” Arel had served faithfully under his father for as long as the prince could remember in a variety of roles: royal advisor, lead emissary, trade viceroy and the last two years of his father’s life, acting Chancellor. All of the aforementioned roles had been filled admirably by a man who had been called multiple times by his father as the most trustworthy man he had ever called a friend. By the Mountains, Arel had even been appointed Guardian of the Estate if something were to happen to both sons, essentially giving Arel formal parental rights over Libea and the rest of the Bytaus’ family assets.
Then again, Iris wouldn’t have said something this potentially inflammatory if she didn’t have a good reason for it.
“Nothing you say will get back to hi-”
“We’re being approached on horseback, My Liege. Black and white armor with the Vadrudorian flag mounted on each steed.” Olosse gently put a hand briefly on Iris’ knee.
“We’ll continue this later.” A gentle smile.
“And the only way I survive any potential danger is if you’re with me, so consider any promise of my safe return fulfilled as long as you stay by me and get us all back home.” With an endearing, light squeeze, he withdrew the hand and pulled back the curtains on the carriage window to reveal a heavily armored Horde captain in full regalia (if one could consider the Horde’s standard uniform that).
“My Liege Olosse Bytaus, the Vikar has sent us to escort you and your party to the Palace. Please command your subordinates to follow my lead and do not deviate from the road we take.” Olosse mustered a warm smile before asking:
“And who might be leading us to the Palace?” The captain thumped his fist against the hardened metal breastplate that adorned his massive frame twice.
“Captain Arneus, My Liege. It is an honor.”
“Nay, the honor is mine, Captain.” Olosse stuck his head out of the window to spot five Horde soldiers that were pointing at the carriages, no doubt dividing the labor.
“Not that I’m ungrateful for the escort, Captain, but when the Chancellor asked your Vikar for protection, I wasn’t expecting any of the Horde, but rather the city guard.”
“Too much unrest at the moment, My Liege; the Vikar didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Chances with what?” The captain hesitated.
“Some in the city believe that they are more suited to offer direction for Vadrudor than the Vikar and seek to undermine him. We are in control of the situation, I assure you, My Liege.”
“Of that there is no doubt.” The captain’s barrel chest heaved outward, a confident grin briefly passing over his face before resuming the dour look of servitude he had.
“Are you ready to continue forward, My LIege?”
“Indeed. Carry on, Captain.” With a shout of command, the carriages ambled forward , Arneus taking the lead and the other five surrounding the carriage in a two by two by one formation. Olosse nodded to the now curtained window.
“Well, there’s some confirmed intelligence for you, Iris. If the Horde is enforcing the law in the capital, things might be as unstable as we think.” He collected his thoughts for a few minutes, allowing the silence to organize his orders before telling his companion:
“I need you to do some reconnaissance while I’m meeting with the Vikar and his representatives. I don’t know how many other of the Shadowguard are here nor do I need to know, but as their squadron leader, assign two of them to me and ensure they remain visible. The Shadows have a powerful enough reputation even here in this militaristic society that ne’er-do-wells will think twice about an assassination attempt. As for you-” He handed her the intelligence reports he had been perusing.
“I want you to follow any leads on quite literally any of these reports; codify your findings and..” He was going to tell Iris to send them directly to Arel, but without knowing what grounds Iris had for her suspicions, he changed his mind:
“Directly return to my quarters this evening. There won’t be very much in the way of activities tonight with the formal ball tomorrow; let’s take advantage of this time and see what we may be walking into.” He half-smiled.
“And do try to stay out of sight. Your…assets are going to be admired even more so in a place like Vadrudor where the men are more forward and the women more receptive. If you DO find yourself in a tight spot, just…no messes. Make sure no one finds the body…or bodies.”
Olosse found himself at the top of one of the spires that jutted menacingly upward from the imposing stone walls of the Palace, gazing out one of the few windows on the illuminated capital city below. There wasn’t much architectural imagination in the design, each quarter designed in a roughly square manner with massive partitions between each to separate them (or isolate them in case of an uprising or unlawful rioting, which happened far too often), and yet there was a beautiful simplicity to the city that, despite the manner of folk that dwelled in it, charmed him. Speaking of charming, the Vikar had done his best to receive the retinue, throwing a lavish dinner for Olosse and his party along with the families of Rakuhor’s closest court allies. In true Vadrudorian fashion, Olosse was prompted to select one of the ladies-in-waiting of the queen as a welcoming gift, said lady-in-waiting wrapped up in a tangled heap of sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she slept. He shot her a quick glance, snorting a chuckle as his hands slipped comfortably into loose, flowing pants that had been thrown off a bit earlier in the evening. Rowena was a sweet girl, but a bit dull; nevertheless, if custom dictated that His LIege indulged, then so be it.
His gaze returned to the city, wondering silently if Iris had managed to follow up on any pertinent information from the reports he had been looking at earlier. He longed to be on the streets with her, pounding the pavement so to speak. The royal life had wonderful perks, but he itched for a more practical role, one that could DO rather than command.
He felt a gentle breeze waft from behind him. Had Iris returned?
Olosse listened to Iris, fixed on her glistening irises as she relayed her concerns about this 'Bludless' group with an undercurrent of what the liege-in-waiting thought was mild anxiety; odd. His personal Shadowguard normally didn't betray emotion easily and even when he could detect a semblance of sentiment, it was quickly suppressed. This 'Bludless' organization must be more powerful than she's letting on, which she all but confirmed by her derivation of "unsubstantiated rumors are just that, your highness"; he knew the semantics of the Shadows well enough by now to translate their rhetoric into more plain speech that a member of the royal family could use. While maybe his father appreciated the downplaying of issues that the Shadows encountered in their intelligence gathering so that he could focus more on his own priorities, Olosse valued the Shadows more than any other group in the Ishmeldian ranks and even more value was placed on the woman across from him. When his father had assigned Iris to Olosse several years ago, the latter was annoyed by the idea of a perceived baby-sitter, but after several official trips across the Continent, he had come to value her council and, in the rare moments he had seen her practice her art, her martial prowess (albeit, he had come in on the very last gasp of action or the aftermath). If he was also being completely honest, he ALSO came to value her...well, it wasn't difficult to conceptualize the kind of physical beauty she was underneath the suit she wore. He was above cracking comments about her attractiveness in form, however; his respect for her position as well as her ability to sever his arteries in potentially a millisecond thwarted any young-blooded remarks.
"Cannot what, Iris? Speak your mind. If my trusted Shadowguard is having doubts about what we're about to go into, I need to hear them." The road that had once jostled the carriage smoothed out, indicating that they were on the initial approach towards Valkan. The carriages would ultimately follow a gentle slope upward for about a mile before the road straightened out once again and put the entirety of Valkan on display.
"My liege, we were given instructions to circumvent the main gate and go to the Western entrance. Should we still follow the instructions given?" Olosse chuckled. The Western entrance of Valkan opened up into the wealthiest area of the city and served as the most direct path to the palace as well as a way for all those in the court to get a nice view of the visiting retinue. Naturally, Rakuhor wanted his most influential supporters and his most vicious detractors to see that his plans, no matter what were thrown against them, would succeed. It was a good optics play, one that Olosse appreciated; after all, they would be formalizing their trade alliance in just two days, said formalization also including a pledge of military support for both kingdoms. This would be a first in any treaty Ishmeldia had signed, but Olosse's father, Arel and Olosse himself recognized that having the Vadrudorian Horde (as they called themselves) as allies could only prove to be beneficial if and when Ishmeldia faced war.
"Yes, follow the instructions." His attention returned to Iris.
"Say on. Before we get to the Kingdom, I need to hear your thoughts without any filters." A half-smile.
"Don't spare my feelings nor my sensibilities."
Western entrance: (
"Cannot what, Iris? Speak your mind. If my trusted Shadowguard is having doubts about what we're about to go into, I need to hear them." The road that had once jostled the carriage smoothed out, indicating that they were on the initial approach towards Valkan. The carriages would ultimately follow a gentle slope upward for about a mile before the road straightened out once again and put the entirety of Valkan on display.
"My liege, we were given instructions to circumvent the main gate and go to the Western entrance. Should we still follow the instructions given?" Olosse chuckled. The Western entrance of Valkan opened up into the wealthiest area of the city and served as the most direct path to the palace as well as a way for all those in the court to get a nice view of the visiting retinue. Naturally, Rakuhor wanted his most influential supporters and his most vicious detractors to see that his plans, no matter what were thrown against them, would succeed. It was a good optics play, one that Olosse appreciated; after all, they would be formalizing their trade alliance in just two days, said formalization also including a pledge of military support for both kingdoms. This would be a first in any treaty Ishmeldia had signed, but Olosse's father, Arel and Olosse himself recognized that having the Vadrudorian Horde (as they called themselves) as allies could only prove to be beneficial if and when Ishmeldia faced war.
"Yes, follow the instructions." His attention returned to Iris.
"Say on. Before we get to the Kingdom, I need to hear your thoughts without any filters." A half-smile.
"Don't spare my feelings nor my sensibilities."
Western entrance: (
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