Isadoln-Dale (ic)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Snow Cherry on 29-08-2011, 21:04:17</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Snow Cherry</strong> on <strong>29-08-2011, 21:04:17</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://i480.photobucket.com/albums/rr164/TheTaintedTear/Isadoln-DaleProject1.jpg)<br><strong><span style="font-size: 24pt;" class="bbc_size">Isadoln-Dale</span></strong><br>(In-Character Thread)<br><br><strong><em>Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! <br>It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.</em></strong></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shjade</strong> on <strong>30-08-2011, 03:21:59</strong>
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				<div align="center"><em>Amarin, Day 1</em></div><br>Sunrise over the city of Talia was the time of fire. The city's pearlescent spires glowed pink and crimson above the blocks of white stone strewn all around the civilized coast, their smooth tips casting long shadows across the smaller buildings in stripes of shade and brightness. From the upper windows of the marble palace of Nautali it looked almost as though the great marketplace were surrounded by smoldering embers. The tiny outlines of distant bodies milling around the open space near the heart of the city could have been so many ashes filtering between the rising flames building up all around that shadowed pit. In another hour, all of that shadow would be burned away, replaced by massive foot traffic, voices arranging innumberable exchanges, favors and goods, services and promises, the dazzle of fine stones and metals worked into artistic patterns, the scent of spice and honey filtering up through the air until even the nobles in high places could taste traces of it. In another hour the illusion would be spoiled.<br><br>It was the slow burn through that hour that the King enjoyed most. From his terrace at the peak of the city, Amarin Dell was privy to the finest dream of a city made of ice, fire and dust. If he slept in his city he never missed that view. When he was abroad he thought of it in the comparatively dull surroundings of his palanquin. Council meetings had been held on that marble outcropping of his tower, the fate of the city discussed under the pale light of dawn while the King watched his city flicker far below.<br><br>Was there anything else so invigorating?<br><br>He was too consumed to hear her approach. The first touch on his shoulder brought him back to ground. She was a good find, this girl: three inches shorter than he, a few shades darker, but with the most magnetizing red eyes. Lima (http://photos.modelmayhem.com/photos/101216/21/4d0af49643c12.jpg) was her name, or so he had been told; she had never said it herself. In truth she had said little since her arrival in his bedchamber, though she seemed willing enough to be there. There had been a few early on who were less eager about having been chosen, but by this time word had spread enough that those desirous individuals who had plans not coinciding with those of their King had time and sense enough to remove themselves from the pool of potentials to avoid such unfortunate miscommunications in future.<br><br>At Kesmon's suggestion, the families of those partners who had been "honored" without their wish to accept the appointment had been compensated generously for the error. They had also been moved further west along Talia's Chain to prevent unnecessary stress. The King would never need to see any of them again.<br><br>Lima was warm when Amarin wrapped an arm about her shoulders to draw her closer. The winds, though hot below, still could chill at that height, and they with only their skin to protect them from the weather. They would serve well enough to heat one another over the view of flames. Yes, and other things besides. The King clasped a hand over the back of Lima's bald head and pressed his lips to hers, reminded himself of the previous night's activity in the press of her modest breasts to the firm stretch of his chest. (Admittedly he had been somewhat disappointed by the size when first introduced to his partner for the evening, but Lima had proven her shape was no handicap to her ability to hold his attention.) He put her back into the curved stone railing and took her feet off the ground, pressed himself upon her again, if with less vigor than the night before - he could not afford to wear himself out before the day's duties were done. He had energy enough for this; with his lips at her neck, her breath in his ear, he felt could enjoy for as long as he wanted without rest. As long as he could see his city.<br><br><div align="center">* * * * *</div><br>"My King, the court awaits at your pleasure."<br><br>Amarin was robed by the time his attendant came with the day's business, a simple spun silver drape belted with black silk. It would take another ten minutes of fussing from various servants before he was properly attired for public interaction, during which time he would be bored out of his mind as was always the case in such times. It was not that the view afforded by being garbed in the way that he was could not entertain at all - the scant attire of his close servants was both a luxury for visual stimulation and a matter of security, providing few options for threats to be carried close to the royal body - only that there was so little he could do during the process. Being pampered had its downsides, one of them being that it did not put one in a position to complain about said downsides. There were worse ways to live.<br><br>That was still ahead of him. First, the attendant, and Lima where she lay behind him on the circular bed at the center of his chambers. "Find Kesmon. Lima will need a room in the palace; she will be staying for now. He will arrange this."<br><br>"Yes, my King."<br><br>"A bath for her as well, and a guide."<br><br>"Of course."<br><br>Amarin nodded and left them behind him without a backward glance for the girl in his bed. She would be only the third of the many he had tried so far whom he wanted to keep. By that time the details could go more or less unsaid as to what was needed to satisfy his sense of what a consort should have. If any clarification was needed it could wait until after the business at court. Petty though it seemed at times, the complaints of the people took precedence over his carnal dalliances. For now.<br><br>So he sat the marble throne in the marble hall, the great open heart of the white-gray-black stone palace, garbed all in silver and black and crowned with the sparkling crystal glass found in the Heart of Nautali, and he listened to his people.<br><br>He judged a reasonably fair compromise between conflicting merchant interests in the local sandworm humour trade after a recent glut in the market from a scavenged worm at the southeastern edge of the Heart.<br><br>A serial thief, finally captured after over three months of similar thefts throughout the Chain, was enslaved to the owners of her stolen goods to be divided among them as they wished.<br><br>The search for a pair of children lost in the mountains north of Sura was, with great regret, called to a close upon the discovery of their bodies in the extinguished fire of a deserted goblin camp - at least, what remained of the bodies. Ten of Talia's knightguard were sent home with the villagers from Sura to pursue the raiding party responsible and end them.<br><br>The sentence for a man caught breaking his marriage contract was his placement in a pleasure house for women for no less than five years, the duration of said contract, that he might have time to reflect on the choices he made while he had the liberty to make them for himself.<br><br>Amarin called a recess then. This comprised rising from his throne; the gesture was all his court attendants required to call a halt to the petitioning for the time being. The King descended the two steps of his shallow dais and left the great hall in favor of one of the dining chambers, where Kesmon would no doubt be waiting with breakfast. At least he hoped someone would be there with breakfast. It had to be nearly mid-morning and he hadn't eaten yet. Kings had appetites, too, after all.<br><br><div align="center">* * * * *</div><br><div align="center"><em>Ghin, Day 1</em></div><br>It was safer to travel by night. Nothing in the air was foolish enough to attack a great eagle on the wing, but they were hardly subtle creatures. All one need do is glance at the sky to see a great eagle flying by on a clear day, a great dark shadow gliding across the blue. Perhaps it was safe to be on those great wings, but only as long as one was in the air. It was landing that was worrisome. That no one could assault the eagle in the air meant nothing if it could be tracked, followed to its resting place, then attacked on the ground. Better, then, to not be seen at all. They flew by night.<br><br>When the sky began to show color in the east Ghin started searching for a good space to go to ground for the day. They had fish to share from a brief expedition over the Lickle River before they'd begun to fly over the Dulany Hills, so food was not a concern, only shelter. Water was rarely in short supply in Estaris. Compared to home it seemed almost excessive at times, as if rolling over at a bad time might find her accidentally falling into a lake at any moment. Food and water were easy. Hiding Bako? That was often the greater challenge.<br><br>It had been the hardest in the grasslands. Tall grasses were no match for an eagle of her guardian's size, and larger cover was rare. Since they'd reached the hills and mountains it seemed as though the process should be easier. All she needed was a few hills of sufficient size, or a rocky patch, or...There, that was the place.<br><br>Bako seemed to respond at her thought, locating the shallow valley a moment after and beelining for it, wings pulled in to drop earthward. The wind screamed around Ghin's ears, slapped her hair's curls all around her, dragged her light clothing as if to tear her loose from her place gripped to the eagle's back. A hide jacket did nothing to protect her from the cold of that piercing wind through her ribs and lungs; her chaps layered over leggings were only marginally more successful shielding her legs from the drop. She felt weightless, breathless, a body out of time. She felt...everything. She could touch everything. She could reach out and hold the world in the tingling lightheaded sensation that enveloped the darkness of the ground rapidly diving upward toward them.<br><br>Then the bird's wings spread and cut their fall short, gliding the last few yards to the earth to a gentle landing on great talons. Ghin waited a moment after they stopped to regain her equilibrium and hopped to the ground beside her guardian. The eagle nudged her with a beak larger than her head; she patted him reassuringly, stroked along the fine feathers around his eyes. Here would be fine. No fire - couldn't afford to risk the smoke - but they didn't need one. Bako settled down on the loose dirt and folded one broad wing over her. Ghin curled her legs up to her chest and took shelter under the warmth of his wing, not even bothering with the little things - stripping off her flying gear, having a bite to tide her over until nightfall, even getting much sense of their bearings - before she let herself drop to sleep. The young woman was unsure exactly how many days she had been fleeing, but it was enough to take its toll. She was exhausted. Rest. Rest was priority. She could plan out where they would go the next night when she woke.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Snow Cherry</strong> on <strong>31-08-2011, 18:30:03</strong>
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				<div align="center">Serin<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span> </div><br>Sunrise over Estaris did not remain long. There was nothing to break the wide, panoramic view of the Arcunur Plains and her sky save a wispy cloud or lonely tree. When sunrise came, it came in a glory of rich gold. The bright disc would always rise from the horizon after transforming the dark night with vermilion warmth, bringing with it bands of bright tangerine, bold copper, and vibrant scarlet. This morning sun would seem to recognize no boundaries, stretching fingers of blazing fury long across the sky, tracing the yellow grass of the plains as if it were a lover caressing another’s sloping curves. It blessed the land in such a way nearly every day’s beginning before fading off within minutes after birth. It was a beauty for many to behold no matter where you were standing in Estaris except for her capital city, Japivul. <br><br>The ancient metropolis was not designed for receiving pampered beauty from the heavens. Instead, it was built to snuggle within what many considered a natural geographic icon. It sought its blessings from the mighty Estaris River that cut the land in two from north to south, long ago fashioning a deep canyon of grandest proportions. You practically couldn’t see the city until you were right on top of it, standing atop the sheer cliff and looking down into the river’s bedded gorge. Japivul defied the basic laws of home defense where the higher ground was an essential key to survival. It embraced the belly of this river’s canyon using the sheer difficulty of its location as a formidable defense.<br><br>Serin did not need to see the sunrise kiss the heights of the sentinel cliffs elevated above the rooftops of even the tallest spiraled towers, or the morning light nudging awake the violet cascades of Laviere Flowers which clung to the smooth surfaces of iron-painted cliffs to appreciate Japivul’s beauty. He did not even need to look outside the balcony window of his private study upon the heart beat of its existence, that mighty river, where elaborate bridges were constructed to connect the east shore to the west. To Serin, the true magnificence of his city lay within the pages of an old, fat book. Documenting the bare bones of Japivul’s architectural structures, this large hardback detailed every account of construction that ever took place under the reign of King’s in the past. Everything from the layout of infrastructure to the building blocks of arches and towers, to the strengths and weaknesses of walls and gates to the blueprints of tunnels running beneath the Arcunur Plains, it was all there.<br><br>Dressed in a dark violet tunic with gold trim and black pants, he was an early bird for meditation. Lounging over this valued book he took particular interest in the two massive gates guarding the mouths of Japivul’s canyon; the only two points of entry for the general public into the beast. The crown spent incredible energy maintaining strict control over who entered and left the capital, whether by foot, horse, wagon, or boat. It proved to be a constant headache for Serin, but one he couldn’t afford to ignore.<br><br>Loras Bairn would have entered Japivul long before sunrise, under invitation from the king through one of these gates and escorted to the palace. Activity never seemed to cease in Japivul no matter what time of the day it was, even at night. But only after the skies settled into blue shades following sunrise would an attendant gently disturb Serin’s morning routine to announce the arrival of his guest. Serin nodded, expressing a desire to meet as soon as possible. “I will see him on the breakfast patio.”<br><br>A couple of minutes later Loras and Serin were meeting privately on a balcony overlooking the stone buildings of the large city, cramped into every crevasse of the canyons belly. Of course the palace was the forerunner of all; however there was a similar tower that just about paralleled the majestic presence and power of the king’s home, swelling the broad view of the balcony. It was the Tower of Benevolence, with a structural beauty of odd delicacy wrought into the spiraling adamantine stone. Home of Onul’s Order, it was a religious building, recently turned into Etaris’ headquarters of magical exploration and training. Already there was a shadow from one of its stray peaks osculating across the breakfast balcony because of the climbing sun, and in a few minutes it would be silhouetting the tray of food on the table set for two.<br><br>Serin smiled warmly at Loras who entered with two guards, who customarily took their positions on both sides of the double doors. “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he extended his hand to gesture towards the palette of breakfast delicacies, “would you care to join me for breakfast?” The invitation was somewhat of an odd request from a king such as Serin with unlimited resources at his disposal. What could he possibly want from Loras, a petty mercenary?<br><br><br><br><div align="center">Dasyra<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span> </div><br>Moloch Mounts are finicky creatures, so much that many consider them untamable creatures of the Estaris sky even after proven by the grassland elves that they can be ridden. Only by tolerance, and the potential for more, does the Council continually permit the funds for issuing Mounts to a select few military personnel. They are utterly useless creatures in the face of aggression, and have primarily fallen into the exotic means of transporting travelers across the prairie. Even then, it is difficult. Capturing, training, maintaining, and sheltering a Mount is considered an art form not even halfway understood, still. It is possibly the second largest embarrassment for the Estaris empire aside the unconquerable Moloch Mountains in their backyard. To have a species such as the mounts playing on the winds of the grassland plains and not be able to exploit that resource is downright frustrating. Yet one can observe these odd creatures and wonder if they were even meant to be a part of this planet at all. With the anatomy of a bird, the wingspan of a dragon, the head of a gargoyle, the appetite of a whale and the smarts of a gentle dog, it was no mystery as to why they were so difficult to understand.<br><br>According to military officials Ralos was Dasyra’s mount, but she could never admit to such a possession. That was half the problem with humans, or at least in the shadow of the Estaris Empire. They always wanted to triumph over and stake mastery claim to any simple thing capable of being owned. It seemed only the elves understood and embraced the symbiotic importance of living alongside one another, an essential detail when approaching these flying beasts. Ralos was only with Dasyra when she was garnished the duties of scout patrol. On any other day the Mount was somewhere off over the Arcunur Plains living with the wilds.<br><br>It was mid-afternoon, on scout duty over the Dulany Hills and mountain edges that Ralos alerted Dasyra to the resting eagle. Really, Dasyra had to cling onto the flying beast as it suddenly flipped around in the air to seek the fastest current out of the vicinity. Although having no natural predators, the Mount was not stupid, and did not desire to be lunch for a giant beaked bird that was not even supposed to be on this side of Isadoln-Dale. But that was exactly Dasyra’s concern about the sighting, and less over their safety. A giant eagle so far away from home was something to investigate, if not report. Dasyra had to literally beg Ralos to turn back. Then, after continual refusal to enter the shallow valley she had no choice but to land her mount on the high ground of the bowl. Flying Molochs did not like to touch ground at all. They favored perches, ledges, sturdy tree limbs, cliff edges, or high sitting rocks. Only when they were nesting would they land to touch earth, and in those times they would bury themselves under the thick growth of the grass to keep unseen from other flying Molochs. Coupled together, Ralos was not happy with the situation at all, and nervously pranced in place on his two legs. Dasyra dismounted, and her one handed grasp on a thin string of leather leading to the thick belted harness wrapped about his massive barrel chest was the only means Dasyra had in keeping the animal from fleeing. It was her signal to Ralos that she desired for him to stay, and underneath all the fuss she still admired him. Any other mount would have not tolerated her requests.<br><br>Whether all of this alerted the eagle and its companion to their presence or not was hard to say. Dasyra couldn’t tell if the giant was dead, hurt, sleeping, or…&nbsp; she had never seen one before. Most of her time was spent confirming it was a giant eagle even though it lay before her eyes some yards away. No one back at the camp would believe her report unless they were actively seeking for an estranged eagle. She took Ralos’ advice and decided this was close enough until she could determine if it was alive or dead. But more importantly, this was something warranting an investigation.<br><br><br><div align="center">Kesmon<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span> </div><br>“Ah, there you are!” Kesmon greeted Amarin with a smile slightly stuffed with spice cake. He dropped whatever morsel of breakfast was in his hand to the plate and stood up, finishing the bite in his mouth with a quick swallow. “I never thought you would call a recess today.”<br><br>He shooed away whoever was following behind the king with a sweeping motion of his hand and moved to pull a chair out from the table for Amarin. “Have a seat my King.”<br><br>“It is sad that your appetite is the only thing that can pull you away from the morning court.” Kesmon snatched a bottle out of a servant’s hand, daintily plucking the goblet from the other hand as well and urgently waved the dazed fellow to leave the room. “You already know my opinion on that matter of course, there ought to be someone else who can sit and fairly judge your people every morning as you do. There are more important matters your Majesty ought to be doing.” He poured the contents of the glass bottle into the glass goblet, whatever liquid it was that the servant was going to serve, and sat it down at the edge of Amarin’s plate. By now Kesmon had chased everyone out of the dinning chamber leaving the two alone. “Like spending more time with that lovely little filly upstairs.”<br><br>Kesmon returned to his own chair across the square table, and picked back up that bite of cake. He knew he was speaking nonsense that carried no weight. Amarin wouldn’t desert his people like so and Kasmon would never seriously advise doing so…but it was always harmless to pretend such things. “So you like her, hm? I was interrupted from my own morning chores with orders to find Lady Lima a room of her own. Imagine my pleasure!” Kesmon chuckled, and then took a bite. After swallowing he added, “By the ratio of keepers and throw-aways I am beginning to worry you might run out of eligible ladies. Nautali is only so big, you know.”&nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shjade</strong> on <strong>01-09-2011, 09:13:09</strong>
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				<div align="center">Loras, Day 1 - Morning</div><br>Though not all who pass through a royal's immediate domain look the part of nobility, it was nonetheless a difficulty to overlook the presence of a mercenary idling in one of the waiting chambers of the King of Estaris. He hardly fit the part of, well, anything appropriate to the scenery. His clothing, mostly dark-colored leather, weather-beaten and faded in patches, bore myriad straps and harnesses intended to hold any number of weapons which, for obvious reasons, were not permitted to remain in his possession for the duration of this visit. He hadn't bothered to argue about it: this wasn't the first time Loras had dealt with folk eminently concerned with their own safety. Besides, it was flattering to be considered a threat while surrounded by any number of guards without access to his force, the bulk of which had been politely commanded to wait outside the city during this meeting. Hard to be insulted by such precautions taken on account of your potential.<br><br>It was probably protocol for any armed visiting force, but Loras didn't let that likelihood bother him.<br><br>He was flipping through a nothing book about something to do with the nation's artistic background and blah de blah when one of those primpy victims-in-waiting popped in and waved him to the door. "The King will see you now."<br><br>Dressed in his fine colors and sparkles, the King certainly looked his title. Fancy enough leastways. He'd met a few merchants looked about as rich in certain parts of Nor now and then, but they were all surface and show. This guy had it, whatever it was. Good on him then. That should mean he's the type to pay his debts, all things going well. Loras didn't take a seat right away when invited; he roamed the breakfast banquet with his hands, not quite touching, feeling his way along the air around the food until he came upon a ripe-looking bit of fruit and snatched it up to start peeling bare-handed. "I'm not one to pass up a meal," he said. His voice was solid but not heavy. A fine tenor, maybe, if he were the type to sing.<br><br>Nor was he the type to push when not on a schedule: if this king wanted to sit down and have a chat over fine foods before getting to business, that suited the mercenary just fine. Opportunities like these were rare enough to take his time enjoying them as they came. No skin off his nose if it didn't come to work in a hurry; he wasn't the one who needed something done.<br><br>He bit into the citrus on his way toward the balcony's edge, surveying the view from that lofty perch. He could almost make out his troop's camp from there. He couldn't quite, but the fire's smoke was clear enough. Much too far to be of use if things went sour, but why should they? If everything about the invitation was as sweet as the fruit, things were looking up for Loras' sellswords.<br><br><br><div align="center">Amarin, Day 1 - Early afternoon</div><br>Kesmon had a way of making his king feel out of place when wearing a serious expression. He couldn't help but crack a smile at his friend's increasingly inappropriate remarks clashing with his doting behavior, eventually ending both with a raised hand. "Enough, Kes, I get the message: I will devote all of my time to filling the halls with passionate cries and <em>you</em> can spend all day with tears of another kind listening to the kingdom's many woes as you are so eager to do." He raised his goblet to toast the idea, making it all but official decree! That is, if they weren't sitting alone, joking among themselves.<br><br>After a few hungry swallows he set the drink aside. "Delegation is still a weakness of mine, I know," Amarin said, "but how can I stand by and watch when there is so much to do? I sit at the head of this kingdom for a reason. I must act to that end." He shook his head; it was nothing Kesmon hadn't heard before. "Let us speak of happier things: Lima! Wherever did you find her? At first I thought it was perhaps a joke you were playing, sending me a girl like that, but the things she could...there is <em>something</em> about her, something of absolute delight. I cannot know yet whether she would make a good partner for me at the throne, but if not, then without fail she is to be the first of my ladies of skin. The title suits her best for many reasons, I dare say. Oh, toss me one of those!"<br><br>A few aerial trades of biscuits and spreads - it had long been a game of theirs, though one that was best played without courtiers to witness such flouting of formality now that he had an example to set - saw the King fit to complete his breakfast as he liked best: a balance of sliced meats, diced fruit, honeyed bread and fine wine. A mixture of decadence and strength was needed to be a proper king, and one was what one ate after all.<br><br>"Three is nearly enough," he said after some time spent digesting. "If you can find me a fourth to favor I can begin paring them down against one another. If one of four cannot be found to act as my left hand, I shall have to give it up for a lost cause. Not so much a loss, though, when my right is so strong," he added, rewarding his friend with a brief smile. The King kept much on his plate in every respect; maintaining his longest friendship was another on the list of things to do, even if it was among his more enjoyable tasks.<br><br>Others were less pleasant. Even thinking about it sobered his expression before he voiced the subject: "Any word on our runaway representative?"<br><br><br><div align="center">Ghin, Day 1 - Mid-afternoon</div><br><em>{Something coming.}</em><br><br>In their improvised hiding space in the valley Bako appeared to be alone to the observing eye, his charge protectively concealed beneath his wing. With those limbs curled in close against his frame the great bird seemed hardly half his size, still impressive to be sure, but hardly the massive creatures rumored to wreak such havoc in the skirmishes between the Nautali and their Goblin neighbors. His head was angled downward, beak almost touching his chest, his eyes masked in the spackled brown feathers all around his head, slightly lighter than the patterned sandy coloration that covered the rest of his obtuse form. He seemed, for all intents and purposes, safe to approach, to an extent, at least while he was being approached. Right up until that strange woman and her creature were within a few leaps' reach.<br><br>The eye on Dasyra's side of the bird opened, centered on her.<br><br>Ghin woke in a start, a heavy feeling crushing in her gut, nauseating her even as the bird against her back began to rise.<br><br><em>{Something coming. Something here!}</em><br><br>"Bako..?" The wing lifted away, blinding her in the sudden rush of sunlight and the comparative chill of the air after having been cocooned so warmly beside the bird's heart. She almost didn't see them; she wouldn't have seen them at all if she hadn't known where to look, following the eagle's airborne sweep toward the elf and the strange creature with her. Someone had stumbled upon them. "Bako, wait!"<br><br>The eagle's wings beat the short mountain grasses flat. Its shadow pooled over the strangers as he took to the air above them, all silent focus. Normally the guardian would have screeched, tried to scare them away, but they weren't protecting their home here. They were hiding. Hiding meant quiet. Hiding meant killing if found. His wings drew inward for a dive.<br><br><em>"Stop!"</em><br><br>It had barely begun before it ended. A gust of wind blew into the elf and her mount as those wide wings cut the dive short still a few yards above the ground. Melon-sized eyes of brown ringed with layers of gold stared down at the pair of them, intent, but keeping distance. And keeping in the air. He would not attack them if they were not a threat; the little one did not feel afraid of them. He would watch. He would wait.<br><br>Ghin was breathless. It was a short run to where the other three stood (or hovered, respectively), but the adrenaline was keeping her pulse on her tongue. The girl pulled her curls away from her face, stray bangs directed away from her eyes, to better size up this woman who had found them. Not a stray as she'd first thought. She didn't look like some highlands farmer. Definitely not a child. Sentry? Hunter? Soldier? Soldier might be a problem.<br><br>She was getting ahead of herself. One thing at a time. Take it slow. Take it easy. "Are you alright? I hope we didn't frighten you. We won't be staying here long if this is your home; I just needed to rest for a while."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Snow Cherry</strong> on <strong>02-09-2011, 17:26:37</strong>
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				<div align="center">Serin</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>Serin watched Loras step up to the table, almost with care. The king was not at all self-cautious over the picks of food but very much interested in discerning what kind of person this mercenary was. Out of peculiar interest for witnessing a man picky over food and not comfortable enough to take a seat, his eyebrow rose. Of course, there were many different possible reasons under the sun as to why Loras directly, yet indirectly, accepted the breakfast invite as such. As a king, the position required dealing with all types of people and one quickly learns to never judge a sellsword by its cover. So he raised a hand and scratched the side of his nose while Loras took his fruit to the balcony’s edge, deciding to account it for the man’s style and not so much as the man’s pride.<br><br>Serin picked up his glass of wine. More than Loras might realize the king desired nothing less than to get straight to business. But that would be slightly foolish. Loras and his gang of men might not be fit for the task in more ways than one. Surely Loras could discern he was standing within Serin’s scrutinizing test.<br><br>“How is your livelihood coming along?” He started, joining the merc at the breath of the balcony’s view. “It is inevitable that Isadoln will be infested with dragons soon, as it is that season of age. I can imagine many mercenaries will make a fine living fighting them off.” He swirled the wine around in the glass, watching the velvety colors catch the skylight as well as the shadow of the Benevolence Tower. “I wonder if your men would follow you into a fire breathing lair?”<br><br><br><div align="center">Dasyra</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>Even across the short distance between, the sudden opening of the eagle’s yellow eye put a jolt of surprise in Dasyra. It instantly reminded her of Estaris’ beloved sun rising above the horizon as a disc of gold. It also immediately conveyed the intention of alarm, and Ralos chirped like a sparrow and rumbled in his chest of increasing distress. Both realizing at the same time the eagle was alive, not dead.<br><br>Dasyra hardly paid any attention to the revealed woman that had been tucked in the folds of the giant’s wing. I mean, details like that kind of fade into the background when you suddenly find yourself as a target and your stomach as heavy as a sick rock. The bird was bigger than she had thought at first, and its wings spurred torrents of air that disturbed her long hair even from where she was at. The distance closed rapidly, too rapidly, and the eagle tucked its wings above for an aggressive dive.<br><br>Poor Ralos would have took to the sky long ago if the eagle hadn’t of claimed it first. The moloch was, excluding wings, bigger then a horse but not nearly close to the size of the eagle. It hunkered to the ground baring daggered teeth like that of a fish and spread its leathery wings out wide before the ground. Beady, black eyes fearfully followed the flight of the eagle and it swished its whip-like tail as if preparing to defend itself against another rivaling moloch. Much out of reaction and not thought, Dasyra was pulling the lengthy dagger out of its leathered sheath knowing there was no time to set an arrow to bow.<br><br>Fortunately the eagle prematurely cut the dive, snapping Dasyra’s attention to the voice that called out after it. She blinked, partly wondering where this woman came from yet vaguely remembering her tucked under the feathered wings of the bird before it lifted off. She didn’t bother to fix her own hair now slightly askew from the beating wings of the eagle but stared at the girl with green eyes full of confusion and lingering fear. The elf was rightfully alarmed, and while the stranger seemed concerned enough for the apparent misunderstanding she couldn’t help but remain cautious. Her vision flickered over Ghin’s figure and clothing, trying to make something out of this mess. Then after a quick glance towards Ralos who continued to hunker and chirp with distress, she replied with a soft tone a little more collected. “We are alright.”<br><br>Returning her dagger to the sheath she fixed the bow on her shoulder. “Thanks for stopping…your eagle.” It felt odd to say, but then again nothing was normal about this situation. “What exactly is your purpose here? Where are you headed?” So many questions… so many were spiraling around in her head. Dasyra was wearing nothing to espy her as a soldier, not while on scout duty. Her clothing was leather and linen, snug close to her body to accent and not hinder her lithe, elven frame. Worn boots, a light cape, fingerless gloves, and a dainty necklace…nothing with any insignia. However her weapons were a different story. The arrows were feathered violet and red; two of Estaris’ empire colors. Her dagger was comfortably hilted in yellow and pearl stones mirroring the remaining two empire colors gold and white. She carelessly tucked a few strands of yellow hair behind her pointed ear and added with a tone absent of any threatening pitch though smartly, “This eagle does not belong in Estaris.”<br><br><br><div align="center">Kesmon</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>Kesmon grinned lightly, watching his fingers set to the task of pulling apart a slice of meat or two. In such a way he allowed Amarin’s returned jests to brush off his shoulder, glancing briefly with a nod of acknowledgment to the King’s toasted goblet, still playing along with the game. The thought of palace halls fringed with passionate cries was a comical one and Kesmon’s grin widened, wondering if those ardent lusts would be cries belonging to Amarin or the woman. Too bad Kesmon had no interest sitting as head during court, or listening to the miniscule troubles of Nautali.<br><br>He offered nothing but a ‘Hm..’ in response to Amarin’s self conviction of weak delegation, too. Instead, a torn slice of meat was plopped into his mouth to which he hungrily chewed. Some saw the busy schedule as a reflection of a diligently applied King; in return, a comfort to citizens. Delegation was also a sensitive subject because the underlying question was who could be trusted with responsibility? So really the weakness may not be a weakness at all. To Kesmon though, there were times when it did seem as a setback for his friend. <br><br>A good drink from his glass goblet swallowed the meat down. The wine tasted good. His dark hued eyes widened over the rim towards Amarin in excited agreement to discuss happier things:<em> Lima!</em> He sat the glass down while listening to the King, knowing that his face was smiling from ear to ear. Amarin’s exhilarated pleasure over this girl was contagious and Kesmon couldn’t help but derive satisfaction from the hope that she could be the one. He tossed him a honey cake or two, flipping them underhand to put a challenging spin into the toss, and then lounged back into the chair chuckling. “Don’t you worry about where I find them. I cannot be giving you all of my tricks and charming contacts or I would be less one challenging hobby to pursue.”<br><br>“You can always rely on your right hand m’Lord, but some things your right hand cannot do that your left hand can.” He winked. “This, if I’m not mistaken, brings us back to your expertise in delegating responsibilities. A King needs a left hand just as sure as he needs a hearty meal on his plate.” Kesmon dropped his eyes to a grape and picked it up between two fingers. “If four favored is what it takes to move your approval towards one then it shall be so. Be assured it amuses me to make such arrangements for my friend. It is not every day I get to combine matchmaking with work, and it worries me that you might grow old and die in a cold bed. No man deserves a fate like that.”<br><br>He plopped the grape in his mouth and broke its juices with his teeth. After a moment of eating a few he noticed how Amarin’s mood sobered, and then inquired a question regarding Ghin. Kesmon did not fully understand the details of the situation but knew it troubled Amarin’s mind. Softly he replied, believing anything might help. “Supposedly a dragon was spotted in Nor’s skies headed west towards Estaris. I am no expert on history, but I do not recall the dragons suddenly popping up in the middle of Isadoln without invading her shores first. Not everyone in Nor has seen a giant eagle but a few have, and one witness claims that the creature was no dragon at all but an eagle. Other than this rumor I have heard nothing else regarding our runaway representative.”<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shjade</strong> on <strong>03-09-2011, 07:13:21</strong>
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				<div align="center">Amarin, Day 1</div><br>The King's expression hardened at the news. It was what he had feared would be the case. "So. Our young representative fled her duty, her family, and her nation and, shortly thereafter, we are told our holding in Nor has gone missing. Curious timing, would you agree?"<br><br>He lifted a batch of grapes to examine above their platter. So many variants of the same round foundation. Anything to take his mind off Nautali's greatest dilemma. The girls - the women - surely they could be distraction enough? Yet the more he thought of those possibilities the more he came back to her. Her face covered their faces. Her eyes. It was her eyes that burned the most.<br><br>"I have changed my mind." He dropped the grapes, a heavy thop on the silver tray below. "I don't only need you to seek out a woman to be my fourth gauge. What I need is to have that girl hunted down. If she is west, then we will look west." Amarin was not known for showing a temper, but to his oldest friend the tension would be obvious, the stiffness in his neck, the lack of eye contact. Whatever lay between the King and Ghin, it had him on edge. "She may not serve as a voice for her people, but she <em>will</em> serve me."<br><br>Abruptly he stood and left the room by a different door than he'd entered. The page waiting outside moved to receive him immediately. "I would see the representatives. Have the captain of the guard gather them in my chambers, and only them. Court has adjourned for the day."<br><br><br><div align="center">Ghin, Day 1</div><br>The questions made her wary. There were too many and they were the wrong kind.<br><br>Bako drifted to the ground, talons resting light on the soil, his wings drawn in to rest against his body; even on his feet the bird loomed over the other three. His bearing demonstrated he was aware of this as well, tall, peering down on these temporarily pardoned threats.<br><br>Avoid the questions. "He isn't mine." Ghin stroked a hand along the eagle's feathers, the longer ones nearly the size of her forearm. "We are partners. He keeps me safe. I remind him to be gentle. He is a strong child; sometimes he acts too quickly." She kept each movement steady and slow, her glove blending into the earthy tone of the bird's plumage. "It's true that we don't belong here. We...don't belong anywhere, really. I just thought..."<br><br>Lying was never her strong point; lying on demand even less so. It was better to tell something that at least resembled the truth, something that could pass. She bit her lip in a moment of anxious thought. "I needed to get away from home for a while. My father...I had to take on a great deal of responsibility because of him, because of who he is, and it proved to be..." Bako lowered his head and clipped at her hair with the tip of his beak; it got her to smile, if only a little. "I know I let him down, but I couldn't stay. So we've been traveling. I wanted to see what the Moloch range looked like." Ghin finally returned some eye contact to the elf then. "It is a beautiful place. The mountains of eastern Nautali are too often thick with goblin patrols or giant spiders roaming for new nesting grounds to explore much from the ground even with Bako to watch over me. I am sure these mountains have their own dangers, but it is worth the risk to learn."<br><br>There didn't seem to be anyone else with her. If she were a soldier she would be with a unit of some kind, wouldn't she? Or at least another scout, a partner? That was how hunting parties from the villages went; venturing out alone was too dangerous. You could go missing and never be found. You needed someone to come back to the village if the other were too injured to return, or captured, or lost to the elements. Someone to at least tell your family how you died. It was better than never knowing.<br><br>And her mount! Ghin had heard of such creatures, but it was her first time seeing one. If she showed undue caution toward Dasrya she did not share the sentiment for her animal companion. Though Bako ruffled slightly when his companion slipped away to approach the strangers he didn't move to obstruct the action. "And you? Do you live here?" The relaxed, strangely distant tone she used made it a little unclear whether she was actually talking to the elf or her mount, though the question applied equally either way. Her eyes were all for the beast in any case, accompanied by an easy smile.<br><br>Whatever tension the inquiries had brought up seemed to be receding quickly in the face of meeting an entirely different kind of companion. "You don't want to be here, do you? It's alright; I know what being grounded feels like. You're so brave to stay with her!" She glanced from the mount to the elf then, her smile in full bloom. "You are a lucky woman. He's special, isn't he?"<br><br><br><div align="center">Loras, Day 1</div><br>Well <em>that</em> was worth a laugh. A hearty one. "My men are loyal to me as long as they think they have a better chance of getting paid with me than against me. <em>Most</em> of them are bright enough to know a dragon is a guarantee of not being around for the gold on account of swift death by fire, if you're lucky. You don't make a living that way."<br><br>He took a wet bite of his chosen fruit and turned to the King with juice glistening on his lips. He was still chewing as he added, "If you sent for me just to hire my troop to go up against a dragon you've wasted our time. I'm not interested in suicide; none of us are. 'preciate the food, but I'll show myself out if that's it."<br><br>Like fuck he was going to get himself killed over this dick's hard-on for some kind of dragon trophy. Really, royals, go figure.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Snow Cherry</strong> on <strong>06-09-2011, 19:21:48</strong>
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				<div align="center">Kesmon<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>Kesmon paused his jaw from chewing and upturned his gaze upon Amarin with a thoughtful expression. It never occurred to him that Ghin might have something to do with Nautali’s missing inheritance kept guarded in Nor. The timing of events did seem odd, now that Amarin brought attention to it. Kesmon slowly finished the bite and swallowed, never bothering to eat anything more under light of this stunning possibility.<br><br>He quietly picked up a cloth napkin and wiped his mouth clean while Amarin studied a vine of grapes. “I am not entirely filled in with the details, I’m afraid.” He said a bit careful, even for his personality. “Why a representative would have a motive to do such a thing… not that I’m saying I believe it didn’t happen that way. Out of all the six representatives I believe the young one from Miras would be the most proficient to perform such a feat. I may not know much about her but I know a little about women in general, and the one day I did meet her, if only for an instant, I could see she possessed an adventurous mind amidst all those darling, tight curls….”<br><br>Amarin let the mass of grapes drop to the platter with a clattering plop, cutting Kesmon off short. He had noticed the tension in his friend but now it seemed more surfaced, nearing anger.<br><br>It was never Amarin’s resolute change in decision that stunned Kesmon, nor the temper if it ever came to that; Kes could handle both coming from his friend in the same blow. Changing tactics between searching to hunting girls down was easy, too. It was the ‘going west’ part that momentarily stunned his mind enough to miss the King’s leave. Unless you were some common villager or trader Estaris did not act kindly towards uninvited guests. They would have to plan this one through if they desired to go tromping across Little Savannah on a manhunt…unless Amarin had a mind to accuse Estaris for sheltering a runaway fugitive.<br><br><div align="center">Dasyra<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>So that was it. This stranger and her eagle were headed for the Moloch Mountains because they were running away from home. She seemed willing enough to cooperate with the questions offering more detail then asked for, but still lacking solid reasons. It only brought up more subjects, and Dasyra slightly narrowed her eyes upon Ghin. <em>Did that mean her father was dead or alive? What kind of responsibility is she talking about?</em> But Dasyra held her tongue feeling uncomfortable pressing any further. They would only pry into a personal life that already proved stressful enough driving the woman away from home, given it was the honest truth. Dasyra couldn’t quite discern if the tension in her tone was out of grief or nervousness.<br><br>Crossing her arms in front of her chest she shifted weight to one foot and watched Ghin approach Ralos while keeping one eye on Bako. The eagle, in all of his beauty, seemed decidedly sure that pecking apart her and the moloch wouldn’t be a loss at all. It made Dasyra uneasy thinking about what could have happened if Ghin hadn’t of been there to stop the giant bird. “If you wanted to find the Moloch range, you’ve found it.” There was no need pointing out the sky kissing mountains hovering over them, but her green hues lifted towards their peeks anyways. “They are beautiful indeed. My people say they are the staircase to the gods, but I do not suggest getting any closer than this unless suicide is your goal.”<br><br>Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears though. Ghin was preoccupied with Ralos, who fearfully eyeballed the approaching stranger. The moloch was close to panic, and Dasyra extended her arm to put a soft touch upon leathery skin trying to ease him down, knowing it would do little to no good. Ralos had two large nostrils flaring wildly at Ghin, and for a moment it looked as though he might calm under the stranger’s gentle praises instead. The muscles in his legs began to relax and his tail commenced to give up the flexible dance of defense. Dasyra smiled; a bit surprised to see her mount ease. “Yes, His name is Ralos. I am very blessed this one accepted my bond. He is spec…Ralos, ouwch. Wait!”<br><br>With a sudden shrill of pitched noise Ralos took to the sky, bumping Dasyra with a wing as he pumped for height. Quickly he gained momentum and darted a course that fled him as far from the shallow valley as possible, disappearing over the nearest hill.<br><br>“Great.” Dasyra grimly mumbled, putting a hand to her shoulder where Ralos’ wing had nicked it. She rubbed her flesh feeling a bruise and pressed her lips together, knowing it might be a while before she got the beast back. “As you can see he spooks easily, but that is because he is a moloch.” Dasyra’s gaze lifted from Ghin’s to look beyond her head, scanning the trees encompassing the shallow valley. Although the elf believed Ralos spooked over the strangers it was always safe to be cautious. Molochs had an incredible sense of smell and could detect other animals from far off. Softly the corners of her mouth lifted in a carefree smile, still thinking about her flying friend. “He is especially picky with people, which makes you just as special as me. I’ve never seen him listen to any other person like he did you.” She abandoned her search of the tree line long enough to turn that smile upon Ghin. “My name is Dasyra, colonel of archery with Estaris empire. Why don’t you come back to camp with me, or at least let me take you to the Dulany Hills. You and your eagle friend will only find death in the mountains.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br><div align="center">Serin<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>“No.” Serin didn’t bother turning to look at Loras. He remained staring over his city, his dark set eyes jumping from one low building to another, giving each one a considerable length of his time. Yet, he was not thinking about them at all. His mind remained distant from their stoned faces and tiled roofs. “I wish that were my problems. The dragon I speak about is of a different type.” A deep sigh brought eyelids over half his vision, dropping to fall upon his glass of wine. He swirled the liquid twice more before quickly bringing the rim to his lips drinking heavily.<br><br>He didn’t quit until it was emptied, and pivoted on heels to remove himself from the balcony’s ledge. He walked passed Loras deeper into the adjoined room, giving the mercenary a serious-sort of eye contact, and gestured with his hand back towards the panoramic view with the empty glass. “<em>That</em> is my dragon.” One finger was extended from the broad curve of the wineglass towards the Benevolence Tower, home of the Onul Order. The revelation was casual and quick though, done from a distance away from the ledge so that anyone looking up upon the palace tower and her balcony could not have seen.<br><br>It made sense, sort of. The crest of the Order of Onul contained a fierce dragon, but also a gleaming phoenix where the two creatures were locked in battle over the Estaris River. It held symbolism commonly known to everyone. The phoenix was the Estaris Empire for it has always been her insignia, and the beloved river has always represented ‘life’ many times throughout history and creative arts. The dragon stood for everything evil in this world, and on this crest the dragon was in an aggressive attack that mistakenly exposed its neck for the spread talons of the lofty bird.<br><br>“She lives right underneath my nose.” Serin’s voice plummeted containing an edge of bitterness. “She hides in her lair of laws breathing the fire of power and eating the hearts of my people. Founded three reigns ago, I regret to say she has been given too much leniency and authority.” It was just the surface of the pond, but enough to give Loras an inkling of insight to nibble upon without having his dedicated involvement, yet. <br><br>Serin moved to the breakfast table and began pouring himself a new glass of wine, watching the level gently rise. “I am not wasting your time, but I desire to believe the same out of you and your band of irresolute men. If you sign up for this it means dedicating your soul to the job and following it through to the end. I will not allow you to back out. It is not a one-night arrangement either, but a myriad of assignments that will take some careful planning. You may be used to working like sloppy brutes, but for me you will have to adopt a sense of style for what I require.” He topped his glass off and sat the bottle down. “If you or your men are caught, you will not have my support. My involvement must not be learned by anyone, not even the men closest to you. I will have you, and whoever worked under your orders executed on spot.”<br><br>He pulled a chair out from the table and seated, filling his plate up with cheese, bread, and fruit. In the midst of selecting various foods he looked up at Loras with a generous smile. “Of course the pay is good. I will keep your pockets full if you can follow my instructions without fail.” Returning to his plate of food he almost had a slice of fruit in his mouth before he thought of something else to say. “Oh, and if anyone offers you a better deal to see you betray me in any way, I will make it worth your while to see you stay loyal.”<br><br>“What say you Loras? Is this a dragon you feel you can slay or should I extend this opportunity to some other sellsword?”<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shjade</strong> on <strong>08-09-2011, 23:51:38</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">Ghin, Day 1</div><br>Colonel of archery. And things had been going so well.<br><br>Ghin quietly apologized for Bako having spooked the mount away in the end - it was surely Bako's presence rather than her own that had the animal so skittish. She could not recall the last time she had scared any animal away without intending to do so, and she doubted these flying creatures were more frightened of strangers than the sandhares of Nautali's vast flatlands. It was her fault either way, of course. She was prepared to offer her help in tracking Ralos down if needed, without Bako there to frighten him away again, but Dasyra's introduction put that idea entirely out of mind.<br><br>"Oh. That's... you must be busy, then. Colonel is a high rank, isn't it? I wouldn't want to be in the way any more than I have already been." Ghin had retreated a step away from Dasrya reflexively, unconsciously placing herself closer to her guardian upon confirmation that their new acquaintance was military after all. Whether it was to put herself farther away from the soldier or to place herself more in Bako's way to keep him from reaching the woman, she couldn't say.<br><br>The latter certainly was possible; the great eagles did not understand speech as people did, but they understood signals, body language, far better. The barest outward signs of tension on Ghin at the revelation was enough to renew Bako's less than amiable interest in Dasyra. He may not have known exactly why the elf was more threatening at that moment than she had been the moment before, but he read the change in his partner all the same.<br><br>The girl turned her head, shook it ever so slightly. <em>{She is not our enemy.}<br><br>{Enemy will come.}</em><br><br>"We will deal with it if it comes to that," Ghin murmured. Her expression had sobered. When her focus returned to Dasyra she looked as tired as she felt, as if she'd walked to the hills rather than flown. "You seem a fine officer, Dasyra. I don't want to put you or your people in danger." Somehow she didn't seem to mean the threat of the eagle. "It would be better for me to stay away. We only need spend a day passing over the mountains to reach Holly forest. I will not be in danger, I assure you; please don't worry."<br><br><br><div align="center">Loras, Day 1</div><br>Loras finished the fruit in his hand while mulling this over, mixing the sweet with the sour as it were. Not that that particular imagery occurred to him. He had other things on his mind than metaphor. "Sounds to me like this dragon is something of a personal issue for you," he noted. "Why not take care of her yourself? You're king. You can do whatever, right? Got the people's backing and all that?" He tossed the pit of the fruit over his shoulder in the general direction of the Benevolence Tower and shrugged. "What's stopping you from telling the dragon to get out? Exile the beast and its progeny, or split them up, take their fire away. They gotta have friends in good places and all that, but not like they can overthrow you unless they got an army bigger than yours. So what's the catch; why d'you need a guy like me to do the dirty? Don't get me wrong, the endgame sounds good and I can trust maybe five or six of mine to work discreet-like, but it seems strange, you wanting swords to pay off against your own guys. Common folk like them more than you, is that it?"<br><br>He scratched the stubble along his right cheek with a gloved hand in final consideration. "Yeah, I can take care of your dragon problem and keep quiet about it. If you've got details on how you want things done we'll need some go-between we can both trust not to do any backstabbing along the way. Better than meeting direct like this again if you want to keep your name out of it. In case there's a change of plans. You know how it is with this tricky shit: something always goes off before it's over. Have to adapt."<br><br>To a mercenary, politics are very simple: whoever pays best, you support. No matter how simple or complex diplomacy and religion became for others, the sorts of people who actually cared about them, for a sellsword the bottom line was all that ever mattered. This was not the first time he'd been approached for some more subtle matters - not that it took much to be more subtle than his standard fare - but the first occasion it was a proper king making the approach. Priests, councilmen, ambitious heirs, that sort of thing he'd seen and done before; this was a different tier of employment, and no doubt of risk. Surely the reward a king could provide would balance out the risk of this kind of job, but that was assuming there was a reward in it. This King of Estaris was young and seemed the ambitious type himself. Loras was educated enough to keep track of the systematic changes taking place in Estaris of late, even if he couldn't necessarily work out the reasoning behind them. Any change was noteworthy as not being a case of no change, which was what most royals did: keep the family policies going. Would a king with such large endeavors in mind bother to pay off these forsworn jobbers of his when they succeeded at achieving his goals, or would he find himself betrayed and marked for execution when the man didn't need him anymore? Somehow that seemed the more likely outcome. Not that that was discouraging. Just meant he'd have to take certain precautions, make some preemptive arrangements to counteract the worst if and when it came.<br><br><div align="center">* * * * *<br><br>Lyra'nuviel, Day 3 - Mendall, Nor</div><br>Her chest burned. Her feet screamed. Her eyes wouldn't stop leaking - not full-on crying, just that obnoxious sort of dribbling from running into the wind. Her arms and legs were practically going numb from the exertion of moving continually.<br><br>It didn't matter. She kept running.<br><br>Jacob was right in front of her, urging her on the whole way. She'd lost track of how long they'd been running: all night, it seemed like, stumbling around baskets and jars left in the narrow alleyways outside the main bazaar's wide open spaces. Jacob had trod on a cat at one point, crushed the poor thing's spine under his boot, nearly went face-first into a wall over it. It didn't matter. They'd kept running.<br><br>They weren't sure they were even being followed anymore. To be honest, the last time she'd even heard something that sounded like pursuit was over two hours earlier, back when they'd climbed onto a low-settled house and jumped into the blind alley behind it to cut northwest after having been going east away from the footsteps echoing up the stone pathway behind them. They were probably lost to their pursuers by then.<br><br>On the other hand, the last time they were sure they'd lost them, that was when Stephan died, shot through the eye with a bolt from some shadow.<br><br>They kept running.<br><br><em>"I can't get it <strong>off</strong>," she'd said, near panic.<br><br>"Well you'd best find a way. I don't think they're fucking about. Like to take your hand off if you can't."<br><br>She'd gaped at him, momentarily forgetting her struggle with the ring on her finger. "They wouldn't!"<br><br>Stephan's face was solid. "I would do, I were them."<br><br>"Shut up, Steph, you're not helping. Look, Lyra, it's probably nothing, right? No way it's one of them. Fucking things were never meant to be worn anyways, and besides, who'd just toss that in with some trash metal, yeah?" Jacob had the friendliest smile.<br><br>The elf was nodding, thinking similar thoughts more out of hope than logic, when Stephan ruined it by answering, "A smuggler. Hide trinkets with trinkets, even the good ones. Best way to get it out of the city."<br><br>"<strong>Still not helping.</strong>"<br><br>"Y'asked." Stephan craned his neck to peer over the edge of a stone windowsill, out at the crowd. It was only midday then, busy time in the market. "They're coming 'round a second pass. We have to go."<br><br>"Go where?"<br><br>"Somewhere not here."<br><br>Six hours later he'd checked another window just that way and caught a length of wood and iron for his trouble.</em><br><br>Jacob stopped to breathe when they reached the end of the alley, waited for her to catch up to him. He was shaking. Six feet tall and trim from years of street living - one can't survive lazy as a street thief and scavenger - the redheaded Jacob kept his green eyes back the way they'd come, panting for breath and waiting for the shadows to come to life. It was all Lyra could do to keep from dropping dead on the stones once she stopped moving; her limbs turned lead instantly. "Jacob. Have to stop."<br><br>He shook his head. "Nearly there now. Ten minutes' walk."<br><br>"Where?"<br><br>"River docks. Slip on a boat there, ship out quiet." He straightened up and stumbled his way to the alley's end wall, stooped and cupped his hands. "Up you go." Even with the help of a boost she barely managed to pull herself onto the walltop. Jacob piled a few broken crates from the alley together for a makeshift ladder and followed after, ungracefully landing on his hands and knees on the far side with a sharp curse. They limped from there; it was the best they could manage. Elf and human alike, they could feel that prickling sensation up their spines that said they were being watched, being hunted, but no arrow came from the night, no blade from the doorways they passed by. The darkness remained only uneventful darkness until they turned the final bend toward the river.<br><br>There they were, their targets floating quiet on the river. The way out. Lyra started forward, almost beyond the protective cover of the buildings when Jacob pushed her into the wall to stop her, a hand over her mouth. Turned her head to look, pointed.<br><br>A black cloak was waiting there, too. She could only barely see it crumpled up between two of the lantern-lit piers, but it was there. And if one was there, more would be nearby.<br><br>He led her back up the alley and around the corner, testing doors as they went until he found one that wasn't locked. Shut it behind them, blocked it with a chair, swept the building for occupants. Finding none, not caring who owned it or where they were, the pair climbed the ladder to the second level, pulled it up behind them, and promptly passed out on the thin matting that served for a bed. They could worry about how to keep breathing in the morning.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Snow Cherry</strong> on <strong>12-09-2011, 21:37:01</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">Dasyra<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>Dasyra grimaced when the stranger took shallow steps closer to her winged friend. Something went afoot here. Something changed, and it must have been because of something she had said. Dasyra struggled to understand this, and frowned. But it was far from anything close to menacing. Rather sad and confused, with her green eyes softening on the young woman and her lips parting just enough to form a thin line of air. Weight was put on both of her long legs and her right hand crossed her chest to rub absently along the fine hairs of her left arm, thinking. Imploring the gods as to what went wrong, what had put the stranger on an edge of caution. Ghin did a good job hiding it, underneath kind words and gentle body language, but you just couldn’t fool an elf; at least not Dasyra.<br><br>“No…” her words stumbled out, trying to fix this and keep up at the same time. “..no. I mean yes, but nothing like that.” Her fingers curled along the slender slope of her arm, putting a dull scratch to an itch just for something to do. “There are many colonels, actually. I am just a colonel of…well, I mean not<em> that </em> many colonels, but I believe more than normal.” She sighed, dancing her eyes between Ghin and Bako…realizing it must have been her rank, or maybe that she was personnel for the Estaris army that had rubbed awkwardness into everything. “It is complicated.” She surmised, feeling at a loss. “…Colonel of the elvin archery division, so although my responsibility is still large, the numbers of those I command are only a tenth or less of the grand picture.” She left out that she was an important figure for the grassland elves, and that a large part of her rank with responsibilities had to do with that.<br><br>She abandoned her arm and fixed some of her hair, brushing it out of her face. Her eyes still held the stranger’s with bewilderment. It was only common sense - if you were skittish around an officer you had something to hide. “When there are not national emergencies my race are commonly used as scouts. At the moment I have been relieved to do such, so I am not entirely<em> too </em> busy to see you to safer ground.”<br><br>However Dasyra was receiving the signals that Ghin would not permit this. The stranger was running from something larger than just a disappointed father and a responsibility of burden. Something believed ‘dangerous’, according to the words chosen. It opened doors for the officer to take advantage of, and the rights to demand more information for the sake of national safety. It was Dasyra’s duty, after all. The only problem was that large bird of a guardian, protectively looming over the young woman as if it wouldn’t tolerate any pushes or shoves.<br><br>Not that the elf desired to do so. She still believed this was all a misunderstanding. Whatever danger there was couldn’t be too great to risk turning them into enemies over the sake of questions. It was just a woman and a bird. Besides, Ghin had a peculiar personality that didn’t seem dangerous at all. Goodness appeared to be there, and Dasyra always gravitated towards that quality in people. She nodded her head, deciding to not turn this into a big deal. “Of course you do not have to follow my advice. Holly forest is a good place, as long as you stay clear of the Moloch forest. I won’t worry either, your feathered friend looks as though he can take on any common dangers you might face. And no need to worry yourself over Ralos, I will get him back as soon as he flies far enough to expel the spook in his bones.” She gave Ghin a small smile of closure, feeling as though this was the end. As soon as she got back to camp she would have to report this, but Dasyra felt pretty confident nothing was amiss that ought to concern the Estaris empire.<br><br><br><div align="center">Serin<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day One)</span></div><br>Seeing Loras take his time mulling around the sweet and sour Serin had returned to his plate of breakfast. It was no bother to him that Loras couldn’t provide a direct yes or no, quickly. In the end it didn’t matter how well he could waddle through pros and cons, what mattered was how well he could follow directions. It was a demanding job, too, let alone curt and risky. So Serin busied himself with a half cut of borangu fruit, picking the seeds out of the tangy bite. However it quickly grew old, Loras’ questions that is. There were too many of them, too much digging, and too far stretching the why’s and how’s. A couple of times Serin glanced over at the man, until the action became so frequent that he just gave up picking at the fruit and resorted to staring directly. He pulled up a cloth napkin wiping his fingers and then laid it length wise next to his plate. Surely Loras did not expect Serin to answer all of these questions without even dedicating his sword yet? He couldn’t help but feel bewildered towards the guy with the sudden dump of tangled inquiries.<br><br>Ah, but things started to look brighter when Loras finally agreed to the job. Brighter for the sellsword, that is. Now Serin could half-heartedly believe Loras was asking those questions for his personal benefit alone, trying to talk his self through the ups and downs.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Serin nodded. “Yea, there’s a go-between.” He leaned slightly enough in the chair to slip his hand into a pocket and pulled out a tiny object. Then he tossed it in the air towards Loras. It was a silver ring with the deeply cut etchings of a simple shield. “There’s a tavern called <em>The Blind Nobleman </em> in Japivul, at the corner of Tall Tabby and Market Street. The owner’s name is Brawn. Discreetly show him the ring and he will relay communication.”<br><br>Pausing, he gave Loras time to inspect the object. Then quietly, “Why do I not just cut the head off the dragon?” He straightened his back along the support of the chair and sighed, with a narrowed gaze resting upon the tower. “Because she is <em>my</em> dragon, that’s why. I don’t necessarily want her slain, I want her maimed. But if she is to be slain you've got to be ready for it.” His eyes darted back to Loras and he rose up from the chair. “…and, they are not necessarily my guys. The Order of Onul was intended to serve Estaris providing a regiment of magic users to reinforce the military. When I need them, they obey. However the Guild quickly adopted Eularceos in its first age, turning the Benevolence Tower into a sanctuary for the religion. While the common folk of my empire are loyal patriots, when you mix magic and religion together people can easily become torn in their hearts between belief and king. The Order has their own religious knights now; a force of holy priests who spread the religion. However they are stepping outside of this mandated power and are taking advantages against me. In some ways they are oppressing my people. My hands are tied with laws, ordinances, passages of rights, oaths, regulations, and decrees. I cannot touch the Order of Onul without upsetting the Council or confusing the people. The steps I’ve got to take just to bring one of those bishops into court are daunting, and if my people see the crown fighting against their religion it divides them.”<br><br>He ran a hand through his medium length hair, pulling it all back before releasing the dishelmed strands. “I should have done this a long time ago.” Then he swept his arm in the air as if he were sweeping the pieces of a chess board onto the floor. “Besides, I have been led to believe they are now moving against me. I am suspicious of a few things… especially now that Estaris’ ring in Nor has gone missing.”<br><br>“Before anything, as your first task, you must travel to Nor and convince a rogue magician by the name of Darr to join you in these jobs. It will not be easy. For one thing, he has been warned never to set foot in Japivul again. Secondly, the bastard and I do not get along very well. Yet surprisingly enough, he is possibly the only person I permit you to reveal who you are working for<em> if needs be</em>; though I leave that to your own discretion. He just might as well try and kill you for the insult of speaking about his king in his presence. Do not try to approach him with money, either. Instead, promise him the opportunity to take part in something he has been longing for for a long time. He has an incredibly rich history with the Onul Order and desires to see it suffer.”<br><br><br><div align="center">Darr<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day Three)</span></div><br>Rain had heavily settled upon Mendall during the very late hours of the night. Dampened cobblestone roads and wet buildings enhanced every color there was, still prisoners to the shadowed streets and dark alleyways. What little light there was coming from the moon, stars, candles, lanterns, and fire pits glowing through glass windows reflected off of every glossy surface magnetizing the hallow brilliance. This is why Darr found himself under the sturdy trusses of one of Mendall’s giant amphitheatres. Not just mingling between the giant slabs of stone, but beneath the giant framework itself in the catacombs of its skeleton. Someway, somehow, water from the city above found its way even here. The plitter-plop sounds of droplets echoed throughout the very dark tunnels and into the room where they all met out of ear and sight of public view.<br><br>Darr slowly walked into the center of the room, glowering. He noticed that Councilman Gulian had brought with him, this time, double the number of guards. It was unclear to Darr exactly why that was but he had his own theories, and they weren’t completely well thought of theories either. His tattered robe and padded clothing was a solid ash-gray, currently void of the archaic designs and patterns visible only when channeling magic, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t holding any in reserve.<br><br>Councilman Gulian appeared nervous, as was normal despite the extra care in caution. The aged man pulled his bronze robe tighter about his body and shivered from the musky air in the moldy room. “I need it back.” He said, with much urgency. “I’ve got to get it back.”<br><br>“It is not my problem.” answered Darr, shortly. “You should have thought about the consequences before you dipped your fingers into butter.”<br><br>Gulian gritted his teeth, frowning angrily. “You do not understand what has happened, stop being so insolent. I need you to find it and get it back for me.”<br><br>“I don’t think so, old man. This time, this job is not for me.” Darr swept his gaze over the six guards, and then turned his back to leave the premise.<br><br>But Gulian stepped forwards after him, desperate for his help. “Do not walk away from me Darr. You know that I own you. If you do not mind me I will reveal everything to <em>her</em>.”<br><br>Darr stopped in his tracks. His shoulders slumped and his hair fell forward as his face dipped to the dirty ground. <br><br>“Not only will she have you hanging from a noose, but she will never find it in her heart to forgive you. If I show her what I have there is never a chance in all of Isadoln that you will ever get to see her again. You’ve no choice…” and then almost apologetic, “…I’ve got no choice either. I’ve got to have that ring back or my career is over.”<br><br>But Darr was far from listening to Gulian’s repentant excuses. He was exhausted from the rueful ploys Gulian came up with that somehow always required his skill, and from having ‘that’ strung over his head if he refused. This time he narrowed his eyes, feeling the anger rise to a level he did not want to restrain anymore. With a sudden swing of his arm he flung a bright flash of liquid light towards Gulian, coiling it about his neck and knocking him down to the muddy ground. It only took four steps for Darr to hover over Gulian’s suffering body, the coiling magic suffocated his windpipe, and yet only three steps for the guards to unsheathe their swords. Before the nearest guard had his long weapon swinging into an arch for Darr’s back the magician’s tattered robe pulsed with the fragment of eerie designs, putting a blazing red fireball through the air from his other hand towards the threat. The ball of fire struck the guard in the vortex of his stomach sending him flying a few feet back and knocking him unconscious. “Stand back.” Darr warned the others. “Or I will instantly kill Councilman Gulian in order to put up with you guys.”<br><br>The other five guards stumbled to a halt, each one looking at the other trying to decide if they were going to heed or not. One thing was for certain, not a single guard wanted to charge in alone, so reluctantly they all gave the magician his space.<br><br>Darr turned his attention back on Gulian, who was writhing in the mud trying to fight for breath. His face was turning a deep red and his hands were clawing at the liquid light cutting into his throat, but each time his fingers came away with nothing but water on them. Darr grudgingly waved his hand over Gulian’s face, shifting the magic and lessoning the choking hold. The Councilman arched his body and wheezed in what breath he could muster through the merciful let-up, and staggered his eyes in focus upon Darr. Once seeing Gulian cohesive enough to think beyond panic, Darr gnarled at him cruelly, gripping his shirt and pushing his fist into his ribs. “I am beginning to believe I would rather live with that heartache then live under your foolishness. This is growing old, as are you, and the same for my patience. What makes you think you can continue threatening me like this?”<br><br>Gulian gurgled, with eyes bulging under pressure. “You..ggc..kill me, you won’t..cggn..see <em>them</em> again…either.”<br><br>Darr growled loudly, his voice echoing in the vaulted underground room, dismayed at the fool’s stubbornness. He pounded his fist into Gulian’s ribs making the man’s eyes tear up before letting go, and waved his other hand in the air to dismiss the magical chokehold. Gulian rolled over onto his side sucking lungfull after lungfull of moldy air into his chest, and Darr left. Without concern the magician brushed passed an armed guard, leaving them all behind.<br><br>Gulian’s coarse voice called out after him in-between a coughing spell. “Darr,..you..you going to find it for me?”<br><br>“I will keep my eyes open for it.” <br><br><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">(Day Four)</span></div><br>It was in the wee hours of the morning when Darr arrived home. He rented his house from an old couple who lived along a well-to-do street of Mendall, far away from him. He hardly ever spent any time in it, though. He kept it as a private recluse; however privacy did not imply safety. There were many in Isadoln who searched for him under various reasons, sometimes good and sometimes bad. If he made a habit of sticking to one spot there wouldn’t be much foolishness separating him from the thorn in his side, Gulian.<br><br>He was drunk. After the nightly meeting with one of Nor’s Council seat members it left him in a sour mood, and he sought booze and sex. After laying with a local whore he often frequented at the Brigade Inn, he decided he only had wit enough left to make it home and stay out of trouble until he slept it off. <br><br>It never crossed his mind why the door was increasingly difficult to shove open this time, perhaps which was because it was obstinate to begin with. Darr always had to put some weight into his shoulder to shove it free of the uneven frame. With his cloudy mind and a curse on his lip he really shoved into it this time, causing a ruckus before tripping over a chair and falling to the wooden slate floor. Regaining half of his sense he stared at the chair for a couple of seconds before suddenly realizing this was amiss. Someone had pushed that chair up against the knob to keep someone from getting in.<br><br>Alerted, Darr straggled to his feet with a quickly sweeping gaze of the one-roomed house. It took him no time to spot the face blinking down at him from the upstairs loft; a boy with red hair and green eyes. Darr didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean anything at all to the rogue magician. “Who are you, and what in Onul’s blessed ass are you doing in my place?!” Although drunk, Darr could still perform a couple of straight magical tricks, sometimes. The only available exits in the small house was a dirty glass window on the first floor and a beaten up door, to which Darr slammed it shut behind him. If there was going to be a fight he didn’t need an audience. <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Isadoln-Dale (ic)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shjade</strong> on <strong>13-09-2011, 09:36:36</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">Loras<br>Day 1, Estaris palace</div><br>"Ooo, a rogue mage, how very fancy." Loras shrugged and started on his way toward the doorway he'd used on the way in; it didn't sound like there was much more to discuss. He had his contact token, he had his starting job requirements, and he had a king clearly eager to get this done at whatever cost a mercenary could possibly ask. What else was there to talk about? "Pity you couldn't have sent me word of all this two weeks ago when I was <em>in</em> Nor. Would've saved me a trip. Works out anyway."<br><br>He stopped near the portal and half-turned back to the king. "I'll leave my force here. Have your city guard let them inside. They'll have their fun in the taverns and whoring about, generally making the noise a mercenary band is like to make, and no one will think twice but to assume I'm still here with them. The ride to Nor's not so dangerous I should need an escort going there: I don't look rich enough to be worth robbing. Your man Brawn will hear from me when I'm back with a new friend. Shouldn't take more than three weeks at the outside; I'm sure you'll be holding your breath."<br><br><br><div align="center">Ghin<br>Day 1, eastern edge of Moloch Mountains</div><br>Ghin couldn't recall having seen any groups of people nearby when she'd flown over the hills, but it was hard to be sure at night. If this elf was a scout and a colonel she was likely far from her nearest support, but she was distant voluntarily. That meant she wouldn't be missed right away. Scouts were intended to range far and return late with information from their travel.&nbsp; She had time, but not too much. Maybe if she weren't an officer she'd have longer. A colonel, though? She'd be noticed missing eventually. What if her mount was already going back to her people? Maybe the fear it showed was part of its training; maybe it was told to return straight away if its rider was endangered. So many possibilities, all of them posing risks to the traveling maiden.<br><br>"Maybe you are right," she said. "The mountains are dangerous, and you must be a skillful archer. I have heard many good things about the skills of the elves of Estaris. Those who live in the mountains of Nautali put our veteran archers to the test in challenges, I trust those who live here must be at least as proficient. I would doubtless be safer in your company." Her face, youthful and gentle, sobered somewhat. There was a tightness around her eyes, a discomfort tempered by determination, as she said, "You should come with us."<br><br>Bako lifted upright behind the girl, showing off his size in straightening until he stood the height of a small tree. When he spread his wings a cool blanket of shade spread across the mountain grasses, covering the two young ladies as completely as a cloud passing beneath the sun.<br><br>She held a hand out toward the elven officer, that serious though apologetic expression adding years to her appearance. It was not her way. She didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't want to force this issue...but she couldn't have a scout going back to report on having found a Windrider and a great eagle in the mountains. One way or another the king would hear of it, she knew that much, and if that happened it would only be a matter of time before things became worse. She didn't want to make her stay, but she couldn't afford to let her go.<br><br><em>Please</em>, she thought, <em>please don't run.</em><br><br><br><div align="center">Amarin<br>Day 2, Nautali palace</div><br>To compensate for the previous day's shortened court appearance, Amarin called it back to order just after dawn the next day to resolve those issues that remained unheard. By the ninth hour, after hearing another thirteen matters of law and nation (mostly mundane, though there was a report of renewed goblin activity in the far western regions that called for further investigation), the king enjoyed a healthy breakfast alone to decompress and review the judgments he had made.<br><br>The serving staff reported the village representatives had eaten well, as had the ladies in their chambers.<br><br>When he had finished eating, the king decided he would take a walk in the palace gardens and, remembering her fascination with the flowers there, sent a page to invite the lady Calles to join him. Bo was present by the time he reached the gardens. She greeted him with a smile and an embrace and they began to walk the myriad paths of the gardens side by side, not touching. It wasn't that they were distant; it was simply too much bother to remain arm in arm when she would so often be pulled away to more closely examine this or that plant growing up far from the path. The king had his own affinity for the gardens, but it was more for the place as a whole than its individual parts. He appreciated the fine architecture of it: the thin silver arches over limestone pathways; slicing crescents of obsidian providing ledges for overhanging ivy and ferns to shade subtle blooming shrubbery below; the curving web of glass panes facing the mainland, too high to see the city but safely faced away from the sea. It had taken his grandfather nearly his entire reign to construct this wing of the royal holdings at the base of the main tower. The entryway from the gardens to the palace proper was as fortified as the rest of the structure, but not here. Here the king was as good as outdoors. Better, in fact.<br><br>"Amarin?"<br><br>Bo was standing beside him. She'd found a yellow flower somewhere and stolen a blossom to weave it into her sandy brown hair, making the normally understated gold tones in those wavy locks burst out of the baseline color. It added a sense of the exotic to her tan skin with its smattering of small moles for unique texture, a quality helped along by the deep blue drape she wore. The garment was little more than a lengthy flap of cloth with a hole cut for the collar, hanging down from her neck in front and behind, sideless with a slim band of material linking front to back over either hip to leave a tantalizingly wide line of flesh visible from shoulder to flank. He very much approved. Somehow non-existent cleavage didn't seem so stiflingly modest when it was so easy to reach underneath...<br><br>She smiled. "That is more like the king I know. You were miles away. I thought I might be losing your favor."<br><br>"Ah, no, nothing like that. I was thinking about my grandfather."<br><br>"Romantic."<br><br>Amarin pursed his lips to ward off a smile of his own. "This was his creation," he explained, gesturing ambiguously around them."<br><br>"Yes, I remember you telling me. Amarin, is there something wrong? It isn't like you to forget a thing like that."<br><br>The king touched a hand to her cheek, shaking his head. "I am king, Bo. There are many things wrong and many things right every day. Some days I think of them more than others. I am afraid I may be worse company than I had thought I would."<br><br>"No, not at all, my king! I always enjoy our time together. I was only concerned." She paused midway through her thought, looking past the king to the man who had appeared around a bend in the garden path.<br><br>Amarin turned and waved the page forward when he saw him. "Kesmon sends word, my king: a visitor from Estaris to see you. She is currently being made to wait in the audience chamber."<br><br>Estaris? Fate had curious timing. Whether fortuitous or unfortunate, only time would tell. "My apologies, but I must address this."<br><br>"No need to apologize, my king. May I stay here a while longer?"<br><br>"Of course." The king touched a hand to the messenger's shoulder to indicate he should stay and keep watch over his guest. Too exposed out here to leave her entirely unguarded. There were, of course, guards all around the gardens, but one could never be too safe. <br><br><br><div align="center">Lyra'nuviel, Day 4</div><br>"Who are you, and what in Onul’s blessed ass are you doing in my place?!"<br><br>Jacob waved an arm at Darr over the ledge. "Shh-shut up," he hissed down at the mage. "By dragons' fire what do you <em>think</em> I'm doing here: <em>hiding!</em> And not for long if you keep shouting like that!" Okay, maybe not the most diplomatic greeting for a break-in, but...better than trying to ambush him, I guess?<br><br>The redheaded man started to add to the comment when he abruptly disappeared from view, dragged backward away from the edge of the platform. After a few moments of vocal commotion a different face appeared where Jacob had been peeking over, this one younger-seeming and definitively female. And flushed. And bare-shouldered. The wood frame kept her modest but all indications pointed to her being topless, and possibly more than that. Oh good, some idiots had broken into a random home to get their rocks off.<br><br>The young lady pulled her hair back with one hand and grinned down at Darr in clear embarrassment, giving him a glimpse at distinctly elvish ears for a moment before her hair covered them again. "I'm so sorry about this! It's all my fault. We had a few drinks and a few lucky dice and I just didn't want to wait, so...it was the closest door when I told him I was in the mood, and... I'msorrypleasedon'tthrowusoutmyfatherwouldkillmeifhesawmelikethisandI'malreadysolategettinghomeandwewon'tbein<br>thewayIpromisepleasejustletusstayhereawhilesoIcansneakbacklaterandnotdie?"<br><br>Lyra bit her lip nervously, her fingers curled tight over the edge of the wood frame, peering down at the rogue mage with genuine anxiety about being found by whatever was waiting out in the dark. It just wasn't her father.<br><br>Behind her her bare legs stayed wrapped around Jacob's struggling head to keep him quiet while she tried the diplomatic approach. It wasn't exactly an idea of which he approved.
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