June
Lord Eric Stafford
Stormalong
Days ago

Eric usually wasn't one for making things a big deal, but it was hard to hide his leaving. Especially with a retinue more than a few people. The people of Stromalong didn't quite have anything too talk about or see, and most of them hadn't seen the heir yet. The retinue that was prepared was made up of ten men-at-arms to guard, all thirteen of the squires Eric had taken into Stormalong for trainning, and two of Angelica's favorite handmaids to help with Marcus whilst in Astoria. Marcus knew the two women well and responded well to them when Eric and Angelica were both busy. A wagon was filled with things, mostly clothes and some food for the few day journey and a comfortable place for Angelica and Marcus to be. Everyone else was mounted. The progess from the keep to the gates was slow as onlookers emerged to view the small parade that was leaving. They called out praise to their young lord and lady, and cheered at the sight of the baby Marcus, who was giggling at the noise.

Guards were lining the streets, just to ensure the crowd did not get out of hand, all the way to the gates of the city people watched. Even once out the gates, people were waiting and watching. The squires loved the attention, Eric enjoyed seeing his people in good spirits. 

The open country was lovely, as summer had yet to start, it wasn't too hot and it wasn't much cold at the beginning of the journey. But once they'd arrived to Astoria, storms began blowing. The journey was quicker than expected, but still not as quick as normal. Eric would call several halts to ensure Marcus was doing fine on the journey, since such journeys were hard on children and this was his first. 

It had only taken two days for the family to reach Astoria, and most of the last day to reach Zahrada.
Alex
Lady Angelica Stafford 
Prince Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong

"You're a Prince, Mikhail, you really should be inside the carriage with me and Marcus." Angelica insisted for the thousandth time, holding Marcus to her shoulder as she watched Mikhail and one of Eric's squires worked to saddle a stallion for the Prince. 

"And normally, I would agree. But _who_ is going to think I'm _The_ prince when I look nothing like him?" He countered, a small smirk on his face that made the squire behind him laugh. Angelica gave him a look.

 "Daemon, don't encourage him." She warned, and Mikhail moved from his spot by the stallion to stand before her. He placed his hands on her arms, and gave a small smile. "I'm asking to ride among a party of twenty three -twenty four if you count your husband- other knights on a path we've taken a hundred times. I couldn't be more safe. Besides- Daemon offered me a pair of his riding clothes, I'll look like just another squire-" Angelica went to stop him, but it pressed on. "_and_ you'll get the whole bench to yourself and the handmaids."

That made her stop, and she sighed. "The first time you fall off your horse you're in the carriage with the baby." She warned, and Mikhail laughed, nodding in agreement. It was the first time she'd seen the boy happy in over two years. He wasn't timid or scared, he was growing into himself and it was _really_ great to see. 

The journey went as planned until the rains, and even then Mikhail managed to hold his own despite Angelica insisting he get into the carriage and out of the rain. 

_"You'll catch your death, Mika!" 

"Again?"_ He'd countered, and she really couldn't argue with that.
Paul
**Dustin Olsah**
**Streets of South Feyshore**

Dustin lay in one of the streets, watching people pass him by. He had a tattered hat laid out in front of him but it was empty of coin. Nobody wanted to give money to a beggar, still it was worth a try. He sighed and leaned against the stone wall. 

He could feel the cravings set in and he dug into his pocket for any cash. A couple silver pieces was all he had and he shook his head in worry. That was all the pay he had left from the military... And he couldn't get any more. How was he going to be able to pay for his fix now? *A problem for future me*, he decided, and stood up, joints creaking from disuse. 

He slowly walked down the streets, seeming to be as harmless as an old man, but the razor-sharp sword at his side showed otherwise.
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

Daemon loved riding as much as he liked battering the other squires into the dust. More than he liked to sneak out of the barracks and keep to drink in the tavern. But, Daemon found riding with a company and being told to stick with the company was quite possibly the worst thing he'd ever expieranced. The only thing he found bearable was being with the prince, something about Mikhail drew Daemon to him in a way that most of the other squires failed to interest him. MAybe that was it, Mikahil was _interesting_. The other squires just... Weren't. One boy talked about living in some castle with his family who'd just received a noble title. Daemon knew that story. Another talked about what it was like to be a commoner, beeing a commoner was quite possibly the most uninteresting thing one could ever talk about. 

But Mikhail knew stuff, knew jokes, had seen places Daemon only knew as a place on a map. Ontop of all that, he wasn't stupid or obsessed with competition like the other squires were. Daemon was probably one of the better swordsmen, the best lance, a passable spearman and definitely the best looking in his opinion, though, he admitted that he might be bias. The young squire was about fourteen with dark blue eyes and brown-blonde mahogany hair that he kept to a medium and well groomed state. All of his facial features were sharp and handsome, and he was rarely seen without a cocky sort of smile that was common among squires that were good at being squires.

"So, since you're the prince and all that," Daemon started, his voice a little low, "If you and I just decided to ride ahead of everyone and beat them to Zahrada, nobody would be able to say anything, right?" He asked.
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong

"Normally, no." He agreed, kicking his leg up to mount the stallion. It wasn't anything fancy, and wasn't even his own. It had come from Lord Stafford's stables, and he'd been told by he stable boy that it was 'practically a mare' with how tame it was. Considering he'd never ridden in the jagged cliffs of where he was raised, and only took up the subject in the last few months, he was very much okay with that fact. 

The honey brown stallion stayed still as Mikhail took to the saddle, and he adjusted his hold on the reins a few times before looking back to Daemon. 

"But Angelica is practically my aunt, and while I _technically_ outrank her, she physically outranks me, even post-birth." He joked, and went to push his hand through his golden locks onto to remember they were now short and dark. He tugged on them a bit, and his hand came away without ink for the first time in a few days. 

"Plus, mother wouldn't mind if Angelica chopped me to bits." He added with a smirk and tilted his head to the side. The sun was pleasantly warm, and he urged his horse to take a place next to Daemon's as they started off. 

"Give it a few hours, then we can cause some trouble."
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

Looked at the prince, who at the current moment didn't look much like a prince, "Y'know, I feel like you and I have different definitions of trouble." He said as his horse began a trot. Daemon's horse was somewhat the opposite of Mikhail's. A black stallion with a gray mane, Whisper was wild and furious. When the squires were first taken in, they'd all been given horses. The horses were theirs to groom, feed, water and train. Daemon's horse was the wildest, when he mounted him for the first he'd earned a concussion when thrown and a broken finger when it bit his hand when Daemon tried to pet the horse to calm him.

Now, the horse only responded to Daemon and threatened to kill anyone else. The stableboys gave Whisper a wide birth and Lord Stafford had the horse placed in the back to keep it away from the other horses. Captain Aldvis once joked about making the horse a knight instead.

"So, is Zahrada as ugly as Stormalong, it being the capital?"
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong

"Where does running off in the middle of the night in the Isles to be caught by a group of _Black Poppies_ fall on your spectrum of trouble?" Mikhail prompted, raising a brow. "Or spending months in the company of giants? Or dead? I feel like my version of trouble is pretty on point, Coridon." He countered.

"And I've got the scars to prove it." He added, mostly under his breath. 

"But no, Zahrada is gorgeous. It's a garden city, most of the actual city is lush and overgrown, the markets and towns that surround it are normal, I suppose. But Zahrada itself stays in bloom for most of the year. "
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

"You should start writing story-books. You're quite good at telling stories." He said with a half smile, "Yet, in none of those stories you mention some pretty girl or anything. They're the _best_ kind of trouble to get into."

Daemon turnned attention to the people looking on their parade as they passed through Stormalong. Flashing a smile at one or two of the girls who were in the crowd, "Y'know, if I was in your position, I'd be flaunting my status at every turn. You'd half every girl in Feyshore and Astoria begging time with you." He commented, looking back to Mikhail. He knew most of everyone could hardly hear the two talking, especially with the sounds of the people of Stormalong.
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong 

A blush flushed his features, and Mikhail was glad it could be blamed on the sun and not the conversation, but he didn't think Daemon would fall for that. 

"There's never been a pretty girl involved. Or any girl." Althea didn't count, she was pretty, but well over twice his age. 

He gave it a moment, and finally shrugged his good shoulder a bit. "Trust me, the title isn't enough to offset the danger of being at my side. I think the number of girls who would even consider a courtship with me could be counted on one hand."
David
Elise Hagen 
Hagen Keep
Next day after previous post
Elise spent the last day working on the family keep. In this time she had finished cleaning up the family bedrooms. When she saw it she realized the room was still as it was left with the old family crest. It was some time since she had first seen it, though it was by her work since her parents beleived it was a waste of time. For now she just walked around the areas she had cleared amazed at the craftsmanship of the people that had first created the area. While searching other things she was glad to have seen was the old family heirlooms. Every room cleared made her spirits rise, and over the day she had moved to other halls and luckily those hadn't needed to be cleared. It was also around this time she found the library which is most of the time she was there wed spent in that room reading their history.
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

Raised an eyebrow at that and looked at him.

"The danger of being at your side," He started, "You aren't talking to the right girls then. I can promise you there are a lot of young girls who would do nearly anything to live in a nice fancy castle, with a nice fancy garden. Even more would be willing to spend a night alone with one." He continued, "Don't worry, you'll run into enough pretty girls with me, that's the sort of trouble I prefer."

"So, another question if you don't mind, how come I don't see you fighting in the yard? You have some private training place?"
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong. 

He cringed at the look he was given. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's not as if I haven't had an attempt on my life three times now. One of which was _very_ successful, need I remind anyone." He added, and again went for his hair, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he'd developed. His hand found nothing though, and he settled it back on the reins with a roll of his shoulder. 

"If you manage to find a girl who wants to spend ten _minutes_ with me, I'll buy you a new sword. You're out of your league." He chuckled and shook his head at the secondary question. 

"I've got a bad shoulder, never really been a fighter. I'm not in a position to keep up with the rest of you in the yard, so Lord Stafford is training me until he feels I'm ready."
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

"Well," Daemon started, "I suppose I can find a girl who thinks ten minutes is a long time. A new sword would be lovely." 

"And if anything happens on the road stand behind me, so you can get a good look at how it's done." He flashed a little semi-cocky smile and continued the ride.
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong

He flushed, this time a furious red. "I wasn't saying that I can only- I mean I-." He stuttered and "Fuck you, Coridon." He finished, trying not to appear as humiliated as he really was. Maybe riding in the carriage with Angelica would have been the better option.
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

"That's the most color I've ever seen," He smiled, satisfied with his jape.

The city gates opened for the party and they began to pass through, leaving the city smells and noise behind them. 

"The air is already better." Daemon observed. "I'm not looking forward to Astoria, I'm actually gonna have to be nice to you there." He said, grabbing a waterskin from his saddlebag and taking a small gulp from it, offering it to Mikhail. If Mikhail took a drink, he'd pretty quickly realize it was wine, not water. Fairly expensive wine at that.
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong 

"You'll be lucky if you see me in Astoria. I pretty much go into lockdown the moment I enter the city." With the comment he reached for the waterskin, and took a generous gulp. The wine hit his tongue and he paused, before taking another and handing it back. 

He swallowed, and cleared his throat, finding he'd grown unsure of the conversation. It was on him, as if normally was, and he was growing tired of talking about himself. 

"How did you end up in Lord Stafford's company?"
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

"Like most of us, I suppose. I'm a second son, third if you count my bastard brother, and my father was a merchant up jumped to a minor lord with a small castle and a little farming village. My elder brother is his heir, and he decided that I should go and do stuff to make our family known. So he offered me as a ward to Lord Stafford, like a lot of the other boys here, and Lord Stafford accepted. Training us all to be knights, since apparently Feyshore has a distinct lack of knights. Apparently he intends for us to be the first generation of knights to begin training the next generation, and so on and so on, until we're filled with a bunch of knights saving maidens and slaying dragons." He shrugged, "I'm actually rather glad this all happened. I would have made a poor merchant, I'm a lot better at spending money than I am finding ways to earn it."
Alex
Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Stormalong.

Feyshore did have a distinct lack of knights, and he'd heard Angelica and Eric talking about rebuilding Knights Landing, or at least building a new one. He'd heard of it when his mother told him the truth about Heath Romanov. He'd begged for the real story of the man, and after hearing it felt some sense of closure. He hadn't seen the man in over a year, and didn't think he ever would again. Even mother had stopped talking about him..

"I can tell, that wine tasted like a watered down version of what we have back home. Make it a day and I'll send you home with a case of Astoria's favored Bloodwine." He joked, then his face fell at a memory.

_Nathaniel Vivayn, and the half giant man child that served him sitting across from him at a table. Well, the giant sat by his side, Nathaniel took the opposite, spinely fingers pressed together in a tent as he spoke. It was before he was fully recovered the first time, when his head still spun and he couldn't quite eat or drink anything without vomiting. He'd been bound, as he always was upon his resurrection, and the giant-whose-name-escaped-him was putting a drink to his lips. It tasted of wine, but more metallic, and it was the first thing he'd ever kept down after being brought back from the dead._ 

He'd assumed it was just a native wine, that it, much like the rest of the Witherlands, didn't contain the fruits or sweetness of the south that he was accustomed to. But something itched in the back of his mind, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, making a mental note to investigate a theory when they arrived.
June
Daemon Coridon
Stormalong

"I'd love to have a case. I'm sure all the squires will toast in your honor, too." He smiled.

Daemon saw the way Mik had faltered for a moment and tilted his head. 

"Everything well, Mik?" He asked, his horse keeping the pace of the party as they got farther from the city. The progression was moving slow and filled with low chattering and talking. Lord Stafford fell back from a leading position to ride near the wagon to talk to Angelica. Most of the other squires were quietly talking while the men-at-arms were joking about something. The party was fairly content with the travel so far.
Karin
Avril Maddox
Streets of Stormalong, Several Months after going into business with Craig

Business had begun to pick up, and Avril was branching out into new drugs and new markets. Indeed, since Craig had joined her as her partner, business had been booming and they needed to expand. The land she had purchased was now filled with product, which Avril took care of and harvested, while Craig was usually in charge of sales. No one would swindle him, certainly! He was also her protector, and since going into business with him, the two of them had gained a sort of reputation in the seedier parts of South Feyshore. She no longer had to fear for her life or anything as she made her way through the streets in the rundown district she called home.

She was a free woman again, and it wasn't with the protection of royalty, as she had once thought. Instead, it was through her own hard work and the protection of a backwoods hick that happened to be big enough to beat the shit out of anyone that tried to take advantage of his business partner or himself. In their climb to notoriety, he'd had to make an example of quite a few people, but that was to be expected. And Craig had taught her some too. Basic defense that she had never known, but could now wield well enough to defend herself on the streets in the worst parts of Stormalong.

She was returning from the plot of land she had outside of the city with the product sewn into the bosom of her dress, adding a bit of padding in the region that made her look more like a harlot. At least the selling of those goods was legal, and it would draw less attention than her true dealings. A few years ago, she never would have dreamed she'd stoop to this level, but it was good money, and well... She was working to where she would no longer need to depend on any man. Not Randall. Not Eric. She'd grow her little empire with Craig, growing strong enough herself that she wouldn't even really need Craig, and if anyone crossed her, she'd be able to exact her revenge finally. Who would have guessed that a knife ear would one day know such freedom? 

As she wove through the streets of Stormalong, she happened to catch sight of a beggar along the street. While most would simply see a harmless old man, she saw something else: the telltale signs of someone that used her product. It was easy to pick out, once you were familiar with it enough. The sunken eyes, the stringy hair, the unnatural, scrawny frame... Sure, those could be attributed to the man's poverty and homelessness, but Avril had a sense about it now. She knew what her products did to her clients; in just a few uses, they were hooked, though by the looks of it, this man had been using for longer than she had been selling.

Could this be her first attempt at a sale? So far, she had allowed Craig to handle all of that, but perhaps it was time for her to try it for herself. Besides, the odds of this man hurting her were slim to none. His haggard body was clearly slowly being destroyed by his drug usage, and he seemed frail to begin with. If she had read him wrong and he wasn't a user, what would it matter? Who would believe the ramblings of an old addict? Besides, rats get trapped. 

Encouraged by such thoughts, she tugged at her dress, bringing it lower on her chest and made her way to her customer, her hips swaying freely. "Hello," She purred. "Looks like you're feeling a little lonely."
Paul
**Dustin Olsah**
**Streets of South Feyshore**

As Dustin stood up, he saw the woman approach him. He sighed. *A prostitute? No thanks.* Dustin tried to keep a smile on his face though, he needed the money. His neon blue eyes seemed to pierce through the woman, giving an uncanny sense of intelligence and shrewdness despite his haggard state. 

"Hello. A lonely life on the street, madam." His voice was a low croak. He tips the hat a little but his hand hung by his sword. Old habits die hard.
Karin
Avril Maddox
Streets of Stormalong

Avril's eyes slid over the man, calculating her every thought and her every move. For now, she had to keep up the ruse. Even in the seediest parts of the city, it was best not to make business transactions on the street. They drew too much attention, and Avril's business was still vulnerable. Loose lips sunk both ships and businesses. She took in every detail, noting the sword at his side and the way his hand hovered over it, like a viper holding itself up in preparation for the strike. Abort? Perhaps... No! This would be her first sale! In the back of his eyes, she could sense something... A desperation for product? Perhaps, but there was an intelligence there that told her he was not one so desperate that he would attack.

She laid her hand on his arm and said with a warm, flirtatious smile, "It's not so lonely with a bit of company, and a bit of *Activity* Keeps you warm. Why don't you come with me?" She giggled airily and continued, "I think we can get each other what we both *Really* Want."
Paul
**Dustin Olsah**
**Streets of South Feyshore**

Something told Dustin that her words ran deeper than the surface. She was more than just a street slut. At least that's what he hoped. If that's all she was, he'd just leave. He had no interest in that. However, this could be the beginnings of a deal. A shiver ran down his spine and his head pounded. It had been much too long since his last hit. His thoughts did another 180, an unfortunate side effect of the headache. She wouldn't be a prostitute just because it was clear he had no or little money, and he sure wasn't the best looking or vulnerable looking that's for sure.

He flinched away a little at the physical contact. It reminded him too much of the war. He hated this woman's airy attitude and Dustin sighed again. "What I want might be different from what you have in mind." There. That was his first clue. Every deal was a game of words, and although he didn't play it well, (he was better suited for blades), he could do it to some degree. "If you have what I want, there may be coin in store."
Karin
Avril Maddox
Streets of Stormalong

Her dark eyes flicked over her companion, noting the shiver that ran through his body and the slight sheen of sweat that was beginning to appear on his face. Definite signs of withdrawal, and she had no doubt that he would purchase from her. He just had to have the coin, and from her experiences, Avril had learned that, no matter how poor, people had the money for the things they really cared about. For her clients, that was product. 

She tilted her head a bit and smiled demurely. "I've found that I know what men want," She replied, shifting so that the top of her dress gaped a bit. The petite elf was, of course, shorter than most and certainly shorter than Dustin, so the movement gave him a clear view at her chest. However, rather than see the usual wares offered by a lady of the night, he would see something else.
Paul
**Dustin Olsah**
**Streets of South Feyshore**

Dustin knew in an instant that this was a dealer, and as soon as he had proof that she was, his pupils dilated, making only a slight rim of that unnatural blue. Playing along with the woman's charade, he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Perhaps we should go someplace more... Secluded." Dustin was good at acting, very much so. It came from passing off to guards that he was either A. Not high, or B. A legal citizen of the city. His voice seemed to be filled with that quavering lust that men so often seem to get when in the presence of an attractive person. However, he really only had eyes for the drugs. Another shiver racked his body, and without his permission, his mind began to play an old scene from many years ago.

Captain Olsah stood in a clearing of a jungle, staring down at a small elf soldier. She wore the sign of his platoon on her breastplate and she was speaking to him, asking him a question. The captain looked around and shrugged before responding with words unknown. Almost as soon as the captain spoke, the jungle erupted with enemies, and the elf was skewered on a scimitar's blade. The killer turned to the captain before yanking out his weapon and advancing on him...

The vision went away and Dustin's chest was heaving, although he was in the same place. There might have been a 20 second silence or so from your perspective. Dustin slowly got his heart rate under control and smiled at the elf woman, so similar to the one who was killed, not knowing if he missed anything.