Brenda
**Lord Maric I Corvyn**
***The Iron Plaines, The Witherlands***

Maric had finally woken up after a long night, sleeping some 9 hours. His muscles still ached from the riding of the day before, a recurring, sharp pain, mostly in the lower thighs. He got out of bed, being careful not to fall down, and slowly put on his clothes, a simple leather Vest over a linen shirt, a pair of Leather Trousers, and a pair of Leather Boots. He then swung his back over his shoulder, and proceeded downstairs, doing his best to appear normal. When he got downstairs, he found his Retinue and Brother already up, each drinking Ale, and there was a seat, and tankard, reserved for him. Maric dragged himself accross the floor and fell into his seat, and ate his breakfast and drank his ale. 

Around an hour later, they would have all finished their meals, and would have headed towards the stables. They got some new horses, and went down through exactly the same route as where they came from, with some grumblings from the Knights who were escorting them. They left that Inn, once more galloping through plains, rolling hills and deep valleys, stopping every 30 minutes or so, and changing horses every 40 kilometers. Even though he had just done it yesterday, it seemed that he hadn't done this, galloping through the wilderness, since he first became a Knight, and he felt incredible while doing it, though he was sure he was going to deeply regret this when he awoke tommorrow. He finally arrived at Crow's Eye when it was close to sunset, and decided that he would leave for Castle Barrmount, or it's surroundings at least, in 7 days. But, to be sure, he sent a carrier pigeon to Fort Ravenholm, requesting the information on when they would be done with the deed.

Thankfully, when he arrived at Crow's Eye, the disease hadn't yet arrived, with the population not being large fans of grain and having their own Orchards, producing Apples and Oranges, along some other kinds of fruits. Also, they were following his orders to the letter, and he thanked them for that. He would lock himself in a room for some three days, alongside all the members of his escort, in order to make sure that he wasn't sick. But, before all that, he had a meal served to him at the Banquet Hall with his Brother and their Escort, with the servers and guards following proper procedure, and they all then entered their rooms, only to leave them three days later.

**Lord Maric I Corvyn**
***Crow's Eye, The Iron Plaines***

Maric had awoken into his first day of Quarantine. He would stay for this day and the following two in complete isolation, something that he was *Not* Looking up to. So, when he woke up, he rang a bell close to the door, which announced to the guards outside that he was awake, and it was time for breakfast. He then got dressed, even though he did not need to, and, begrudgingly sat down at a desk that was relatively close to his bed, got a piece of paper, a quill and a glass container with ink, and was only able to write a few sentences before he got bored and dropped himself on his bed. Some minutes later, his breakfast, consisting of a large plate with Eggs, Cheese and some Smoked Pork, and a mug of ale, was slid through a slit in the door, and he carried them to his table, putting the writing materials away and ate. After this, refreshed and with a full stomach, he went towards the small training room, consisting of a few swords, sets of armour and other weapons and a wooden mannequin, grabbed a Broadsword and started to train. This wouldn't do anything to his skills, but he needed to stay active and to keep his body occupied, and he knew no other way to do it, without being able to leave the castle to go riding. 

Then, a few hours later, Dinner Came, an even larger plate with different kinds of meats, vegetables and fruits, and he ate it before napping for about 2 or 3 hours, and then continued training until around 6, when his Supper arrived. As normal, his supper was much smaller than his dinner, and it was composed of fruits and vegetables, as it always was, with a constant supply of alcohol, of course. He then fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillows. Whether he liked it or not, this would be his life for the next two days.
Nathaniel
**Aria Griff** 
*The Thick Yeti, Grand Stead, Witherlands* 

Her attention was recalled by the words from Lucian, her mind washing the memories far from her mind for now. "Abnormalities? The heck ya talking 'bout? Sure, ya got hair and eyes half of the entire place would kill for, 'specially many of the noble women, but I don't think it calls for banishment." Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to decipher the possible faults that caused the two boys to be abandoned by their entire tribe. "Seriously, can't find strange stuff. Probably threw ya out cause ya were making the girls feel bad 'bout their own looks." 

"And ta that, I say ta hell!" Her fist hit the tabletop, causing a loud *Thump* That made some of the other customers look over. "Whoops, sorry. Get wild sometimes." Throwing a grin around, their sudden attention is eased away due to apparently better things. Her ears perked at the question and she whipped her head back to face the other man, eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Course! Even if it is shitty, I like ta learn new stuff. Makes life a little more interesting ta live, ya know."
Adrian
Lady Catherine Royte
House Royte

"I agree," She smiled, elevating her eyebrows to appear sincere. Any more expression would have breached that very same line of vulgarity she carefully stood so decidedly away from. The warping of one's face to become all nose or mouth to display thought was barbaric in its candor. Those of learned professions suffered the very same distress, how ugly they had become through years of intellectual curiosities. The furrowing of eyebrows so deep in concentration, she couldn't imagine. Of course, Catherine regularly read. She was not opposed to the pursuits of distinction, but it was unheard of that she would ponder her thoughts so openly. 

 "We are at the most peaceful corner of the earth," She proceeded in the same tone one would to students. There were no indecisions. Her home was unexaggerated in its silence, it stretched endlessly, away from the proper civilization of communication. If she were to explain it as a decided isolation, House Royte could appear almost so marvelous in its mystery. 

"I am pleased that you have also found solace in my staff. I trust in their aptitude for service."

At this, the maid whose apron again had nestled itself in more splotches of tea, turned. It was a rare circumstance that the grace of appreciation would leave the owner of the house. Another momentous occasion, more extraordinary than the scene before them. In that instance, the attendant stilled, sitting in her compliment, revealing to be as necessary as an unused table.

"Due to such aptitude, they've prepared a room should you find yourself in need. In the meanwhile, Margaret would be happy to get something more filling. Sweet or savory?" Catherine asked, eager to force action upon the undisturbed third party.

From the corner of the ornate room, the final beads of sunlight pooled across the parlor. Velvet curtains sat widely away from the large bay window, allowing the use of a candle or oil lamp to halter. The rays were so tremendous and heavy with the burden of casting a final light, they threatened even the snow riddled beneath. The thought of something to eat had been so far away from memory until that moment. Had it been today? *Surely* The day before. This of course was no fault of the personnel, she could attest, after so frequently the case of fascinating meals bloomed in rot. Catherine would analyze them to the atom, carefully inspecting for overindulgence. 

Should the case of expiration come early, Lady Royte would leave a reputable corpse without an excess of fat.
Edith
**Treasury Councilor Klaus Paberly
House Royte**

Klaus nodded at the mention of the staff service while continuing to stand. He did not want to be rude to his host.

"Savory sounds like a nice way to warm up after a carriage ride," He mentioned first in case that was all the servant needed to hear before getting to work. "Thank you for the offer of a room. The wind seemed like it was picking up outside. It could be dangerous to head back should the sky decide to snow." He stepped away from his chair and made a few slow, innocuous strides around the furniture before looking back to Lady Royte. "Though it was worth the journey to be in the presence of a Lady such as yourself in this house that you have so cozily made into a wonderful home."
Ashley
**Agricultural Councilor Wilhelmina Ulster**
**Castle Barrmount, The Iron Plaines**

"Come on Wilhelmina. Think. Use your brain." She paced back and forth in front of the main doors to the palace. She had to get away and to Taemar. The council had to know of the skeleton lord's unprecedented occupation of Castle Barrmount. If she could only just get to Dale, her horse hitched at the stables, she figured he'd be fast enough to get away during the dark of night. She barely cracked the door and peered out. Immediately a shiver went down her spine as she surveyed the courtyard. She shut the door and leaned against it, palming her face with her hand. 

"That's going to make things tough" She whispered to herself. Nathaniel's men were everywhere, and they were clearly alert for any sign of escapees. She felt her nerves getting the better of her, she had to force them down. Panic would have been the doom of her in such a predicament. Her calm was her lifeline. She had to have hope. Though, perhaps hope died the second Nathaniel entered the main hall. 

Reasoning with them was not in the question, as reason only worked on those who were not genocidal and those who were not sick enough to kill for pleasure. Perhaps she could lie and claim that she was a mere maid, going to care for the horses in the stable. No, her funeral attire was far too ornate for a maid, they would have never believed that. 

Her brain raced trying to conjure up a plan. Whatever she needed to do, Wilhelmina had to do it swiftly. The longer she loitered around the entrance, all the more likely she would be caught. Either by the guards, or worst of all, Nathaniel himself. 

"It's now or never. I have to try. I cannot allow for any more innocents to die at the hands of these monsters" Resolved, she opened the door to the castle, the bitter wind of the night on the Iron Plaines cut deep into her. Strangely, it still felt warmer than being in the same room as the skeleton lord.

She began to walk towards the stables, resolved to get to Dale and flee into the night. Her footsteps crunched in the fresh snow on the ground, echoing around the mostly quiet courtyard. 

"Hey! You there! Woman! Stop right there!" 

"Damn." Well, she certainly did not get far, now did she? Two of Nathaniel's soldiers blocked her path to the stables, their hands on the hilts of the swords in their sheathes. The two men towered over her, their armor glistening in the moonlight, they seemed almost as imposing as Nathaniel. Almost. 

It was time for Wilhelmina to put her honed speech-craft to the test. Before then, she had only needed it to gain favor to get to her position. Then, she was going to have to bargain for her life. She donned the most cordial smile she could manage, clasping her hands behind her back so that the soldiers could not see that they were shaking profusely. "A fine evening, is it not?" She looked up at the night sky as she said this. "Is there something I can do for you good men?" 

"You can start with where you are going." The guard on the left grabbed a hold of her wrist and tried to pull her closer to him. "There's plenty of boys at the camp who would *Love* To meet a face as pretty as yours" The fear inside her immediately turned to disgust as she wrenched her hand from his grasp. She expected nothing more from the men of someone as irredeemably vile as Nathaniel Vivayn. 

"I will do no such thing, *Knightsblood.* Do you know who I am? I am Agricultural Councilor Wilhelmina Ulster, and I will not be passed around like some common whore by the likes of *You*." She had put on her finest impression of a stuck up Lordsblood. Perhaps what she needed to appear to have was agency, she could not take it back, all of her chips had been placed on that one act.

"Ah, look at what we have here, Johnathin. A *Councilor*" The man on the left sneered. The man supposedly named Johnathin chuckled as well. "Are you here to mourn the death of that rat, Miss Councilor?" If she could have, Wilhelmina would have stabbed these men already and been on her way. Never before had she encountered such scum. Yet still, she had to be wary. Those 'scum' could still have slit her throat in an instant. Save for her words, she was unarmed. 

"You watch your tongue, have you no dignity?" She pressed a finger to the man's chest, scowling as convincingly as she could. Should she have shown even the slightest hint of fear, the game would have been up, and most assuredly the white snow would be stained red with her blood. "I will be making my way to the stables, getting on my horse, and leaving this blasted castle. It is cold, I am tired, and I refuse to be bullied by mere grunts. Do I make myself clear, or should I take this up with your lord, certainly he has much more sense than you do." Gods forbid she *Actually* Got taken to Nathaniel. That thought alone scared Wilhelmina to her very core. To be face to face with Nathaniel Vivayn was to be face to face with evil itself. She would much rather have had those men kill her where she stood rather than meeting in person with *Him*. 

"No can do, Miss Councilor. Nobody in or out. Them's the rules, and we'll gut even you if you break them." The guard drew his sword slightly so that the blade could just barely glisten in the moonlight. They weren't kidding. They would have actually flayed her alive then and there.

"Oh to hell with this." She said, and elbowed the man as hard as she could in his exposed neck. He dropped to his knees and gasped for air. By that point she had already picked up the hem of her dress and sprinted as fast as she could towards the stable. 

"Stop her! That bitch is trying to escape!" The other guard drew his blade and started running after her. It was a race against time, she could not stop, or else she would have been knocking on death's door much earlier than she had planned. She didn't bother to saddle Dale, instead just unhitching him and leaping onto him. "Go Dale! Run! Gallop like you've never before or else this will be the end for us!" She had dropped the arrogant bit immediately and the desperation had become apparent in her voice as the horse immediately leapt into action, galloping full sprint towards the palace gates. The other guard had caught up to her and he reached for her, attempting to drag her off the horse. She provided a swift kick to his temple and he stumbled to the ground. "Bloody hell, that hurt." She groaned as she weaved Dale between hostile swords. Suddenly she heard a faint buzz, then another and another. The guards were firing arrows at her, each one narrowly missing her and her horse. Her adrenaline had kicked in and she could not afford to think about just how close she was to dying in that courtyard. The mere minutes it took to escape out of the courtyard and onto the country path seemed as if they dragged on into hours, her heart beating as if it were to run clear out of her chest. Wilhelmina decided then and there that she did not like action and vowed to avoid it at all costs from that point onward. She would have taken a good political debate over such daring acts any day of the week. 

Strangely enough, the men did not appear to pursue her down the road, surely they were not letting her go? Had she truly escaped Nathaniel's army? It would not be for many hours that Wilhelmina's fears subsided.

It was a long, cold, and hard ride for Wilhelmina that night. She did not stop for anything, paranoia gripping her completely as she made her way towards the country of Taemar. During the ride, the reality of what had occurred just a few hours prior sank completely upon her and she began to weep. Never before had she been so close to death, so close to her life being brutally quenched in an instant. And yet, she was gripped with resolve. There were people in the Iron Plaines who had been suffering under the hand of Nathaniel and his legion, and she could not bear to see them like that any longer. Something had to be done, and she knew she had the power to do so. She realized that there was still hope for Castle Barrmount and the people over which it ruled, and that hope resided in Taemar.
Mark
**Luca Dinero** 
*The Thick Yeti, Grand Stead, Witherlands* 

Most of the men in his village were darker skinned, Short coarse hair and dark eyed. Not to mention their height, almost all of them were above 6' while Luca stood at only 5'10. His brother is in the same predicament sadly. As she spoke, he tilted his head. *'Blue eyes are desirable?'* This was new territory to him, very new territory. "That does not make sense-." He got cut off by the sound of a fist connecting with the table, he jumped back slightly. 

"You are excused." His voice sounded so formal all the time, almost as if he didn't have an off switch. His back was as straight as someone could sit up. He took another sip of his water and softly placed the cup back on the table once again placing his hands in his lap. "Well, we called our island Farraige," He didn't know the translation from Silvertongue. That word sounded as if he was a drunk sailor attempting to speak to locals. "We have a process that I was told to follow. *Plota*, they called it. The village elders look at the person that is being accused looks, personality, overall character and time or how old they are. In my village me and my brother fit the standard witch stereotype. The demons are said to alter a baby at birth to do their bidding, while doing this they give the baby their eyes." He explained pointing to his eyes. 
—

He didn't like the women of his village all too much, they were too pushy and too loud for his liking. "I did not court the women that had shown interest in me, I am very how do you say. Stoic? That is why the sent off to sea. It was alarming that two males of their village could be witches. That is their reasoning I believe. But we survived. How they determine is if they survive the sea they are a Cailleach. We would be burned. If we died, a funeral service would be arranged for us. I do not know about others, but I would not like to be burned. So we ran away, left the island without a word. We were on a boat for many moons." He finished his story, taking another sip of his water.
Adrian
Lady Catherine Royte
House Royte

"I would agree, as you're aware, the weather is temperamental so far north", she said, an eye to the trembling form as it drifted with a hesitant swiftness. A foot so eager to stay and understand a reason for this strange arrival, while the other step grasped for the threshold, receiving the menu. Assuredly torn, the maid finally disappeared to the kitchens. 

It was surprising that Klaus had made his way so efficiently. Rarely could the sounds of animals be heard, the dense marbling of snow becoming troublesome for even the most inhabited species. Though she had escaped the thickets every so often, it had been due to the ingrained intelligence of the land she owned. Catherine was to reign over the small spot of earth, and thus it was a natural knowledge, equal to the awareness that tomorrow it would snow. And again, the day after. 

As the Councilor hopped from one end of the furniture to the other, she acknowledged his manners as he readied to meet her. "I appreciate that you could make the time to do so," She answered, basking in the way his robes reacted against him, moving one way as he did the other. It was a show, the entire phenomena to her.

 "You are, of course, a dear neighbor."

Past the fascination, she sat down comfortably against the opulent teacup he'd abandoned, waving a hand to allow him to finish.