Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Roboson]

Upon being announced Luwald went to converse with the attending members of the priesthood and pray with them for the success of the nation.

[Iituem]

Orzo escorts Falsktnafn to a side chamber, where a spread of rich food, meats, a jug of wine and a small keg of ale have been laid out on a table, lit by an oil lamp and covered with a blue cloth of fair quality.  The aged baroness is sat in a high-backed chair swaddled with furs and is having her goblet topped up by a serving girl.  She snaps her fingers at the girl, who hurriedly pours a tankard of ale for the Swordbearer and fills a plate with provender before curtseying and excusing herself from the room.

"Sit down and let me take a look at you, boy," snaps the old woman.  She peers over Falsktnafn, openly examining him as she might a horse or sheep, looking over his body, cheekbones, even teeth when he opens his mouth.  After a few moments of study she seems pacified.

"Not ugly, that's a good start.  Hard to sell an ugly king.  Well, boy, tell me who you are and what the business is with that shiny knife of yours.  I'm Baroness Gertasdottir.  Most people call me the Rose.  To my face, anyway.  Oh, and have a drink, eat, no doubt you've walked a stupid distance to get here."

[NUKE9.13]

The Swordholder is taken aback by the old woman's attitude, but he recovers quickly.

"It is a pleasure, baroness. My sources tell me you are not a woman to be trifled with, so I shall endeavour not to do so."

He sits, picks up his mug, and pauses. He appears to be listening to something, before snapping back to reality, and taking a swig.

"You are correct, in that I have walked far to get here, and have had little time to sit down to a good meal. People have been kind to me as I travelled, but I have ever been in a hurry."

He takes a few bites of food.

"As to your questions, madam, my name, please don't laugh, is Falsktnafn Svertharmathur. I should not need to translate for an educated northerner such as yourself, but I swear by the heavens it is true."

"My shiny knife is a Runeblade, as you may have guessed, of some potency. You may inspect it, if you wish."

He pushes the sword across the table.

[Iituem]

The baroness glances down at the sword and makes no effort to touch it.  She takes a slow draught of her wine instead.  "I might ask you, Falsktnafn, to draw that blade from its scabbard so I might inspect it, but I know a tale or two.  I shan't be touching a 'bearer's blade, if it's all the same, even with their permission.  As for the, aha, truth of your name - that is something I would want to speak to you about.  But first, tell me your tale.  What is the song you have been singing to all who might hear about how she found you?"  Helga nods towards the blade on the table.

[Shootandrun]

Kings should have the courtesy to die more often, if it's what it takes to breathe some life back into the city. That was the main thing on Alric's mind when he first saw the courtyard that morning; also present, but on a decidedly secondary level (or so he told himself), was a mild headache. There had been a wake, yesterday, and he and a few others had mourned the king in their own way until the little hours of the morning.

He turned away from his room's window and finished putting on his doublet; black and gold over a crimson shirt, to complement dark blond hair and hazel eyes. He dressed well and he knew it - there was something to be said for humility, of course, but nice clothes went well on a handsome man, and it seemed more important to look regal on a day like this.

In truth, he would miss Luowin. A quiet rule and an orderly court were good to those who wished to live simple lives; that time, however, was over. The king was dead and gone, the nobility had arrived, and the claimants would step forward. There were some in that crowd, he knew, who would wonder if he was going to try and make Falbrand into Harmondale's new royal line. Let them wonder, he thought as he stepped out of his chambers and into the halls of an unusually busy castle. For now, he had more important things to do than to speak at the council, and he preferred to be fashionably late anyway.

Alric wanders the castle, speaking to his acquaintances, making good first impressions and investigating the day's gossip. He attempts to find out who intends to claim the throne.

[NUKE9.13]

Falsktnafn retrieves the sword.

"My tale is not one told lightly... but I trust you to be discreet."

"I was travelling from the village of my birth to the nearby town, across an old and desolate moor, when all of the sudden a storm blew up. Not wanting to get drenched, I looked for shelter. I looked left, I looked right, and when I looked left again, there was a chapel that had not been there before. Though I was of course apprehensive, this was a storm of epic proportions. When a bolt of lightning struck the ground nearby, I overcame my fears and crossed the threshold.
Within, there were only mouldering pews, a broken altar, and upon it, this very sword. Now, I am no fool, and had no intention of picking up a sword encountered in such a situation- yet something drew me towards it. As the rain lashed against the roof, I crept forwards towards the immaculate blade lying within the ruined sanctuary. My hand brushed against the metal, and that is when the angel appeared before me."

He pauses.

"I don't know how religious you are, baroness, but I can tell you that before that day I was not an especially pious man. Even today, the excesses of the Cult turns me away from the faith. But it is not possible to see what I have seen and not know that there exists a truly higher power, whose mere servants are more beautiful than any sight mortal eyes were meant to see. I do not need faith. For I have knowledge.
This angel spoke to me. It seemed like it spoke for days on end, or perhaps it was mere minutes. It commanded me to take the throne of Nordric, to restore it to glory, and repel the corruption that creeps in from the south. Its words have guided me ever since- whenever I am uncertain, I recall something it said to me, and my path is clear."

He thinks for a moment, then nods.

"That is my tale. I was Told you would have a tale for me in return, or at least something I would like to hear."

[Tack]

"M'lord Alric?"
Mavi strides up along a hallway, giving a cursory nod. "I was becoming concerned you'd died in the night. I hope to learn you were seen ably back to your chambers?"

[Shootandrun]

Alric stopped in his stride to look Mavi's way as he approached. At the man's comments, he raised a hand to wave away his concern. "It was quite an adventure, but I made it back on my own. How are you, master Diventrade?" Then, in a slightly more serious tone: "Did you wish to speak with me?"

[Tack]

Mavi gives a chuckle "No, seeing you was merely a pleasant surprise. As for myself, marvellous. I've finally managed to palm off gate duty and now I'm off to see a shrew about a sword."
He gives a gesture "If you have nowhere to be, I'm quite willing to walk and talk- at least as far as the kitchens. I could never consider myself a proper servant if I did not badger you to eat when you least felt able to do so.".

[Shootandrun]

"And here I'd intended to starve myself until lunch, as penance for my excesses." Despite the sarcasm, Alric started walking towards the kitchen, expecting Mavi to follow. "Now, what's this I hear about a shrew with a sword?"

Spoiler: Chat log of the following conversation* (click to show/hide)

[14:42:55] <Tack> "If she hadn't woken you already, you've been doing even better than I hoped. Lady Gertasdottir has been rather unhappy with the slow state of affairs."
[14:44:08] <Shootandrun> "I don't think anyone has ever known her to be happy about something. Has she taken to cutting down the nobility in her rage, then, or did someone else furnish the sword?"
[14:47:42] <Tack> Mavi loses his jovial tone. "Mmm, the sword was unrelated. Until very recently. Apparently some young lad has been dazzling the lesser nobles with it. Helga got word."
[14:48:53] <Tack> "The complications don't stop there."
[14:49:14] <Shootandrun> "She wanted a look too, eh?" Alric shoots Mavi a glance. "What else is worrying you?"
[14:54:53] <Tack> "If she was just after a look she'd be loud about it. I haven't had the luxury of hearing her quiet yet and frankly I don't want to know what it signals."
[14:55:22] <Tack> "As for what else, I was gifted with the presence of Archmage Luwald this morning, also on his way in to stand before the tables."
[14:57:12] <Shootandrun> "Luwald... Right, I recall him. Well, I suppose it is only fair that the clergy stack their votes together, just like the rest of us. What of it?"
[15:02:27] <Tack> "Seems more than politics. My predecessor remembered the young Luwald Armiles to me as flighty and reckless. The man I met this morning? I half expected him to lift robes and begin flagellation on the stairs."
[15:03:45] <Tack> "More than that, someone has seen fit to let loose rumours that this... Sword-King is divinely appointed. Thus, two applications for king, one claiming divine appointment, one claiming divine mandate."
[15:06:03] <Shootandrun> "Worried we will get a zealot on the throne, Diventrade?" Dry amusement can be heard in Alric's voice. "Tell me, did the lad with the noteworthy sword speak with anyone relevant before meeting with the Dog Rose?"
[15:07:51] <Tack> "Maybe an imperial knight, or a knight-commander. The trail starts going cold around there."
[15:08:55] <Tack> "Your thoughts?"
[15:11:17] <Shootandrun> Alric purses his lips. "They are numerous and colorful, but one wonders whether they should easily be shared. The lad may pretend to have the will of God backing him, but I doubt the church will approve of that notion if they have their own claimant stepping forth." A pause.
[15:12:40] <Shootandrun> "Though I don't fancy the notion of putting a commoner on the throne, he may be of use. The Runeblade and the charming story will appeal to part of the faithful, and split the vote that the Archmage needs to rely on as the core of his backing. Speaking to a foreigner won't help the young man's cause, though (...) Gertasdottir presents a more serious sponsor."
[15:13:11] <Shootandrun> "Of course (...) all of that is irrelevant so long as no one else stakes a claim, isn't it?"
[15:14:04] <Tack> Mavi shoots a sly look. "Indeed. Some are even saying we may yet see a Rittan backside upon the Harmondale throne."
[15:19:02] <Shootandrun> "Only rumors, for now," in a meaningful tone. "Blood will get a man far, but I am not fond of starting fights I can lose, and other claimants may yet step forward." Another pause. "Silfverstolpe has some of the lineage too, I understand, but I haven't heard about him yet."
[15:34:23] <Tack> "If he even makes it here in time he'll be the least of my concerns. Not having a bloodbath in the feasting hall would be an admirable first step."
[15:34:40] <Tack> "For now, seeing the sword might answer a few questions about the playing field, and whether or not it's worth playing"
[15:36:24] <Shootandrun> Alric nods, slowly. "I'll investigate on my own, Mavi (...)" The first name spoken casually, without apparent meaning to it. "But you don't need to sit idle in the meantime - if, in any case, you are interested in influencing who may come to sit on our most noble of chairs."
[15:36:37] <Shootandrun> A meaningful glance: "For the good of the realm, and the King's memory, of course."
[15:43:42] <Tack> Mavi gives a half-bow "But of course. I exist only to serve."
[15:45:17] <Shootandrun> "You are a man respected by the people in the know - your word could win the right claimant, or potential claimant, some support. And if whomever you cast your lot with chooses not to present themselves, well, they can still back the most reasonable of the alternative options. The new king will then have two people, by my count, to be grateful for."
[15:46:40] <Shootandrun> Alric shrugs. "Only food for thought, master Diventrade. For now, I reckon I need to see a certain sword, and maybe have a chat with the north's meanest woman. Unless you have something else you wish to talk about?"
[15:48:46] <Tack> Mavi contemplates his words, before giving him a look. "Kitchens first, master Alric. Allow me to make a proper mess of things before you swoop in with your charm."
[15:49:23] <Shootandrun> With an indulgent smile: "Sounds entertaining. I'll take you up on it."
[15:49:32] <Tack> He stops for a moment before they part ways; "You know of course that were I allowed to vote I would vote for you."
[15:50:15] <Tack> "Unless of course, someone were to offer me money. I mean, anyone really. Or wine." With a grin, he leaves.
[15:51:36] <Shootandrun> "I know, Mavi," casually. "And I understand. Good day."

((*OOC comments removed and edits added into the original posts. I assume no one is particular on seeing the -raw- log, right?))

[Tack]

Mavi soon finds himself at the door of the side room. He eyes up the bodyguards appreciatively.
"I'm expected?"

[Shadowclaw777]

Astralia always questioned the contradictions and quirks that have been developed in culture. The death of a king brought so much attention to the court compared to the living, it was only the dramatic events that would stir as much commotion. A quick thought observation of each character's body language and it would tell the story of each character's motivation and eventually their long-term goals.

Astralia entered into the courtyard and perceived the cold breeze in the wind and the dry-cut semblance within the area. The tents and outcroppings surrounding the area all hoping to see the next king, or wants to be the king. This was an event that was all-encompassing and missing it was a big loss of an opportunity.

Astralia the leader of a mercenary band, with her steel-studded leather armor and iron greaves and gauntlets all bounded by her approach. She heard of the mystical and wondrous temple and its captivating chants, from rumors spread by the taverns and soldiers she met her life. Taking it all in she walked up the steps and entered, seeing a landed elite with his own elaborate robes. She came to him and speaked

 "Greetings, fellow seeker of the mystical arts. I've heard some local rumors about your interest in becoming the king. If these are true, what might a magic-user have use of such a position?".

[Roboson]

Luwald regards the lady.Ah Lady Astralia, I have nothing to gain, and nothing to lose. I have no use for such a position. Yet this position has use for me. My faith and my conviction have led me to this path, not gold nor glory, simply faith in the supreme and his guidance. Ilos would see this nation resurrected, and I shall be his instrument on this earth.

[Ghazkull]

Domnall mac Ghabhain, the name was well known in the North. Son of one of the infamous runesmiths, sellsword, pirate, mercenary, guard, raider. It was a modest claim to fame, for while the name was known it was not spoken with awe, it was just...known.

The man himself however was a figure right out of myth. Huge even for Nordran standards, his muscular build and the feline grace with which he moved would put the descriptions of many a bard to shame. An aquiline nose and a handsome face made the man indeed quite attractive.

The callused hands and the workers tan made him out as a commoner. The clothing as a man of Nordran.

For a normal man it would have made it difficult to enter the great hall.
Not for Domnall. If his smile wouldn't convince the guards, the large zweihander on his back and a proper northern scowl would.

He stopped in front of the Gate Guards.

Hail Lads. I'll be looking for whomever is in charge of this Kingsmoot.

Domnall ask the guards for directions to whoever is in charge of the kingsmoot.

[Shadowclaw777]

Astralia, acknowledges the merit that the man in fancy robes had. "Your ways seem direct and cordial, it's a surprise with the amount of people I deal with. I may not be a professional Mage like you, but I'm a alchemist hobbyist and am quite talented in the area, especially with analytics and calculations. I am also a quite connoisseur, I have acquired some magical books within my time as a... mercenary that I may share with you. The cost is that you allow me to become your apprentice. Also I will give you my vote for you as the king, as your apprentice.