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 Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 2:22 pm
The frail nature of mortal hearts... Ahriman would never long for such sensations again. Yet he had to constantly keep in mind the possible reactions from people he interacted with, for they still were bound by emotion and wrong wording here and there could be unsettling. Ahriman slowly pondered her spoken words.
It was a good attempt, but no. That was one of the worst days for her to be freely outside. Ahriman's ever watchful eyes would be on everything else beside her for the whole festival. Unfortunately that made it a particularly good day for her to attempt something... rash. Her current freedoms had been persuaded from the Council based on the fact that he was mostly present in the Silver Hall, and in his presence she could not move without him knowing about it.
Corruption... In all honesty she had just contradicted her own case, for Ahriman thought that anyone behaving as she did, while it was expected, would no doubt be easily corrupt, easily swayed by their feelings and as such, easily harmed.
Oh no doubt, she had behaved herself very well all these years. She embodied Mysto's innocence and grace better than anyone else living. Besides for this moment, besides for this incident where she insists so diligently to be outside, to be with her people... Yet, perhaps, that was Mysto's will itself. The Goddess would no doubt be just like her in person.
Ahriman considered making a list of the good and bad points here. All the while he was thinking, he remained silent and unmoving while she no doubt expected an answer.
The chance of her return, if she was allowed to go, would be high. The chance of her attempts at something worse, if she wasn't allowed, were high. The council's obvious reply to such demands? An immediate No. The possibility of her being able to defend herself outside? Low. The chance of any kidnapper taking her and escaping with the crowds, no matter how many agents he could set up guarding her in secret... High.
There would be no way to convince the Council on this, yet it would be easy for him to set it up so it seemed as though she never left. Would he go so far? Absolutely not.
"You forget your place, Eleventh Seat." Ahriman finally spoke, his tone stern. She was supposed to represent intelligent and unbiased thought. "We, no, the entire kingdom ultimately trusts in your wisdom. Has your time here truly been so unpleasant that you would break your own wise ways?" There seemed little way to salvage this situation. If there ever was a time for Mysto's counsel in a matter, it was here.
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 2:25 pm
"On my side? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, especially considering the circumstances." the woman spoke in a dry tone, clearly unimpressed with the elf as a whole. She wasn't likely to be any more civil than this. "As for why I'm out here, that is none of your concern." Indeed, it wasn't. She didn't feel it necessary to reveal her motives, her reasons for being so far out in the wilderness just yet.
As the dragon introduced himself, she couldn't help but wonder what the two meant as they talked of courts and generals. As the golden-scaled creature introduced himself, she could not help but wonder if she should reccognise his name. The confusion on her face was clear, unmistakable. Not many humans, especially those who were descended from slaves, were educated in matters of religion and polotics. They were only taught how to do their duties and whichever languages they needed to know in order to best serve their masters.
The others were introducing themselves, so at the very least it seemed appropriate that the woman do so as well. "Not that it matters, but I'm Romhild."
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 2:31 pm
"Forgiven, Miss Romhild." He bowed again to the human. "Perhaps it is not my concern, then again it IS my concern when sounds of conflict of some sort, considering my.. occupation." He gave her a warm smile. The kind that held no malice in it, and yet there were gears turning in his head. Thinking, trying to piece together everything around him so he could figure out her motives.
((I have to go for a while, I intend to be back as soon as possible though.))
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 2:39 pm
Iri puffed a ball of smoke at the human lass, flashing his teeth in humor. "A name is an identity, and identity is key to personality. And personality means being alive and free. Don't scoff and make it seem so dismal. It is a pleasure to meet you, Romhild," He turned to the elf again, "And you as well, Vexrion Hyraldn. As for me, stick with Iri when not in the confines of respectable places. It is much easier and doesn't seem so stuck-up." He turned to the human, remembering her confusion with Vexrion's comment on him being a general. "I suppose I should share a bit of myself. After all, it must be hard to understand who is who when one spends their days in the forest sharpening their skills with a metal stick." He climbed to his feet and rose to his hind legs, spreading his wings. The light reflected off his scales, painting the forest with flashes of gold. His full height, stretched out, almost breached the forest canopy, his wings pushing aside smaller trees in an attempt to find room. "I am Irilentath the Golden, adopted Fire General for Mystocentria." Lowering himself back to the forest floor, he yawned, revealing very large fangs, quite like his own mouthful of long daggers. "But, that is all just formality for me. Seems over-hyped, what with the attention drawn to the fact that I'm not an elf in an almost all elven-court."
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 2:40 pm
The atmosphere changed slightly as Llewelyn’s back erected. Her green eyes flashed as she looked towards Ahriman. “Wisdom comes not only from intelligence, but from experience. You expect me to govern my seat with none.”
She changed again, looking at her lap. She fidgeted, hardly believing such a statement had escaped her mouth. It was disrespectful. Llewelyn stood, taking the napkin off her lap and leaving her plate full. She bowed her head. “F-forgive me, sire,” she breathed, fear taking her briefly. “I will go pray now.”
As if running away, she quickly walked from the dining area back to the cold temple. Her servants frantically followed her, calling for her to return back to her seat. She did not turn back, throwing off her headdress, and allowing it to clatter to the floor. The servants stopped at Mysto’s Temple, unable to venture inside. At the statue’s feet she fell, grasping at the marble feet, muttering her prayers almost frantically. She could feel Mysto within her, attempting to comfort Llewelyn’s restless soul.
“Help me,” she sobbed.
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 3:16 pm
There was a lot of truth to that. Yet the rest feared so very much for her safety. Ahriman however could not bring himself to care nor be afraid. He could only think of what would be the best course of action in favor of his Mistress. The path ahead was uncomfortably clouded.
Ahriman watched the elf leave his presence abruptly and abandon the meal. Thinking on it, it may have been the most unfortunate lunch had at the table. Except for the time he had had to meet with the commander of the Centaurs here in his own home. The savage man had turned his head and swung his mane at the sight of every female servant. Quite awkward, truly.
The servants in the room looked between the door and him worriedly, wondering what they should do. No doubt others had already caught up and tried to stop her. "Lunch is concluded. Have no one disturb me nor the High Countess's presence." The Lord spoke and got up out of his seat. It would be unfortunate if she grew hungry until dinner, but that was of little significance to what had just happened.
Walking calmly out of the room and down the corridor, he slowly came to the door leading to Mysto's Temple. The servants outside bowed deeply in his presence, and presented him with Llewnlyn's headdress. Ahriman took in hand the headdress, and a soft cloak off one of them, which they had tried to hand over to the female before she went out. The day was getting colder. The ruler dismissed them and entered the Temple.
He could see the female up ahead, down by the feet of Mysto's statue, as he ascended the stairs leading in. When in the center, Ahriman removed his silver mask and bowed deeply to the figure of the Goddess. His eyes went back to the Arcanisan on the floor once he straightened his back. It would be a pitiful sight if he could have expressed such concerns. What he did understand however was that her freezing to death would be bad. Ahriman approached and laid the cloak he had gotten from the servants over Llewenlyn's shoulders.
"We do not crawl to her feet as if to beg for her kindness." Ahriman stated as he knelt down by the altar. "Always understand, the great Goddess loves all her people and for all that she has done she has more than earned our dearest admiration and respect. That is why we return her grace, as is only proper." He went onto explain as he laid his skeletal hands, clasped together, on the altar stone. "Also understand... It is in her nature to always seek new answers, to all of the world's questions, and nothing can bind her in place when she truly desires something." As such, nothing could ultimately bind Llewenlyn to this place with her great desire for freedom, but that came down to herself.
"Kneel, and pray with me." Ahriman let out softly and relaxed in place, his eyes down as he quietly muttered words of prayers to Mysto.
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 6:22 pm
Vexrion nodded. "I will remember that Iri. And if it's not too much to ask, could you NOT mention my name anywhere?" He prayed that the General wouldn't ask around about him. It was fairly common knowledge among elves of his banishment, exile, whatever you want to call it. It was probable they knew WHY he was exiled, and there was a nearly impossible, yet still existent, chance they'd know of his rebellion.
He wouldn't want that to start spreading. He didn't think it had hit the council's ears yet, and until the day he stood before them with an army behind him.
He mentally sighed. I can dream right? He thought to himself. But this dream in my heart, I won't let it scatter into the wind!
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Posted: Sat Mar 03, 2012 7:50 pm
Iri stared at the elf, considering his words. He brought his head close to the elf and sniffed, getting a feel for the flame within. He turned a large eye to the elf and realization dawned in them. "I see. Very well, that I can do. After all, the matters of court matter not to me unless they pertain to my fellow drake and those that wish to harm my peace." He brought his head back, his body warm. He lifted his head to face the sun, feeling an instinctive urge. Distress. He knew no idea where it was from. Eyes closed, he considered this feeling, feeling it pulling, feeling the urgency, as if he should take flight now and leave these two behind. This mystic pull was foreign, but it seemed so urgent. He shook his head and turned his attention to the two before him, tucking the urge unto a corner of his mind. First things first.
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 3:30 am
((Edit: Wow I did not think it'd be this long on the page. Erm, read on! It's an action-y post, a fight scene. You're welcome! : D))
Huff, huff The werewolf panted heavily, his hands resting on his knees. A bit too much running. He grabbed the water gourd hanging from his waist and chugged a good amount of the liquid inside. He could feel it's warmth as it slid past his tongue and down his throat. Wulthgrand wiped his mouth with his furry forearm and looked up from the sands. To his immediate left still remained the particularly aggressive duo of giant scorpions, who were already taking note of his presence. He could not have run, their four spiked legs far more capable at traversing the sands than his two paws, and there was no place to hide. He reattached the gourd to the string going along his waist, to which his money pouch was attached, and it disappeared mostly under his fur.
For the reason of not wanting to carry additional weight, he never carried weapons, but luckily he had been delivering a whole heap of them just now. The large dark-green cloth bag was down on the ground behind him. Looking over, the scorpions appeared to measure the situation and prepare themselves, their claws snapping together loudly several times. It was likely they were trying to scare him off, perhaps from their nesting site, but he knew enough about the creatures that he could not just back away. If they were hiding their eggs then they would already be on him anyway, having come so close - even if by sheer bad luck.
Wulthgrand kept a weather eye on the scorpions as he hurriedly flung open the bag of items to be delivered, revealing a hoard of plate armor pieces and several kinds of weapons. He grabbed a particularly nice looking sword hilt that was poking out of the mess of items, and pulled on it. What he got out of it was a claymore, a particularly long and wide edged two handed sword - two handed at least for humans. Wulthgrand found himself quite comfortable using it in his right hand alone. The closest thing to this was the guardsmen long swords he had held in the past, but none of their rank ever were given weapons like these.
Looking for some sort of defense, the werewolf grabbed a helmet and stuck it over his head, squeezing down his ears painfully against his skull. He'd have to deal with the uncomfortable small human size, but he would not go so far as to wear the rest of their armor. Taking a round shield to his left, free hand, he turned to the scorpions.
They seemed quite ready to do combat, as did he, somewhat. To his great displeasure, one of the scorpions struck its claws into the soft sands and... dug, disappearing underneath quickly. Oh if there ever was a worst case scenario...
The other scorpion bared its ravenous fangs and screeched, then charged with his claws open, ready to snatch him. He had to think fast and so he approached. The claws would merely hold him down if they caught him, what was worrying was the stinger. Its power and poisonous nature would paralyze and kill him in a single swing.
Then came the first blow - left claw - and Wulthgrand comfortably enough struck back at it with his shield, smacking it aside. Then the stinger, which he deflected with the correct placement of his shield again. Wulthgrand swung his sword, attempting to slice at the stinger just as it had missed, but the scorpion was too fast and pulled it back. His right side open, the scorpion's claw securing immediately around his sword arm. 'Sh*te.' He cursed in his head. The grip was extremely firm and painful due to the small spikes along the inside of the scorpion's claw, turning red his fur from blood.
Wulthgrand attempted to strike away the claw with his shield, but the scorpion's other claw had caught on and grasped it firmly. It went as far as trying to pull away the defensive arm but Wulthgrand's strength kept the shield firmly to his side. The problem now was obvious - both arms sealed and the stinger ready. Wultghrand wondered what his funeral would be like.
The werewolf then bashed his head down on the claw stuck to his right arm and the scorpion screeched as it released its grip. The claymore just barely caught the stinger in mid-aid, the weapon flying off his hand as the stinger withdrew.
Wulthgrand grasped the shield with both hands and forced it from the scorpion's grip. Holding it in front of him, he backed up to where his sword lay on the ground. The shield withstood the next few attempts by the scorpion to strike him, but the shield was slowly cracking under the pressure. He had to get that stinger, then he would have far less worries.
'Just maybe...' The next strike of the scorpion's stinger came and Wulthgrand presented the shield head on against it. Exactly as planned, the stinger struck through it, and was jammed in the hole it made through the shield. Wulth grinned wickedly and now went for the sword on the ground.
Then, the sands moving beneath him, a cloud of dust, and the pincers appeared from beneath the ground. The second scorpion's attack was flawlessly timed for their success and Wulthgrand never reached the sword.
Not giving up, his eyes blazing in fury, Wulthgrand pulled on the shield, bringing the stinger back - and in the way of the claws tearing up from below the ground. The first scorpion screeched in pain as the other had just struck its tail.
Wulthgrand let go of the shield and ran back, over to the bag of items. The first thing he could get - a dagger and an axe - fine enough. The first scorpion had backed off, screeeching madly. If they ever were an intelligent species, he figured the hurt scorpion was calling the other one a massive idiot right about now. The second one, having fully revealed itself from the ground, turned on him. Wulthgrand sprinted at it and - when close enough, as the claws were swinging at him - slid down to the ground and moved smoothly along the sand, just far enough for the claws to pass overhead. He managed then to raise his weapons to block the stinger. In front of the Scorpion's face, past it's defenses, Wulthgrand stabbed furiously as it's eyes with the dagger. The creature's pain was obvious, the ear shattering screech filling the air. Thank goodness the helmet was so tight he could not hear anything past a small whine. The creature went berserk, swiping with its claws and stabbing with the stinger in blindness. Wulthgrand crouched low, rolling in order to dodge what he could, and the several times he was blown over by the crazed swings he struggled back to stand. It was not over yet.
Then, the first chance he could, he moved his arms around one of the claw-arms of the scorpions and secured it in place. The beast, feeling where he was, struck with its stinger. Wulthgrand only had to yank at it hard enough and he pulled the claw into the tail-stab, making the scorpion cause severe self-harm.
In it's next moments of agony, Wulth backed away and caught his breath. The other scorpion, with the shield still stuck to its stinger, approached now, with no interest in letting the wolf rest.
"Alright, come on, come on..." Wulthgrand spoke quietly, trying to keep his courage up. He could not think of the potential bad consequences in all of this, his head had to be clear, ready for action. He had to keep going.
The stinger was slower, far easier to avoid, with the shield around it like a fine copper ring, as well as the small wound from the other grabbing it earlier.
The claws however, were as ferocious as ever and they were particularly difficult to block with the weapons he held. He resolved to dodging most of it, but was getting nowhere near the beast just backing away.
'A new plan...' Wulthgrand dropped the axe and dagger, just as the stinger was again gunning for him. He dodged in the nick of time, the stinger landing on the ground right next to him. Wulthgrand grabbed onto it for dear life and the scorpion, worried since the earlier harm, pulled the stinger back with awesome strength - Wulthgrand going with it. The claws missed him as he was pulled above the scorpion.
The werewolf let go as he was above, and dropped directly onto its back. He was on his feet, but had to quickly lay right down as the claws attempted to rip him away from there. It seemed reluctant to use it's stinger now that it would land on its back if it missed.
Wulthgrand held on tightly to the scorpion as the claws smashed against his sides painfully, but he did not fall. Taking the first chance, the moment the claws pulled back for their next attack, Wulthgrand stood and leapt forward. He thought he would make it, he was flying straight ahead to the front of the scorpion, hopefully too quickly before the claws to hit, and there he could strike at its eyes with his personal claws. Then, the striking pain in his ankle, his flight coming to an immediate halt and then the heavy impact of the second claw on his side. The limp werewolf was thrown off the scorpion's back. He landed a good distance away, rolling across the sand. Wulthgrand groaned painfully, his left ankle and right arm bleeding and reddening his fur and the sand beneath him. He swore he had broken several ribs, if not all of them, from having been hit by the pincers. The striking pain in his chest was apparent.
Wulthgrand coughed as he got to his knees. His head was still spinning. The helmet had come off and he could hear the scorpion stomping across the sand, coming straight for him already.
Ooh this wasn't very good. What an arrogant p***k he had been taking on this fight. There was no way he could get back to the sack of items to get a new weapon, and the weapons he had lost were in the distance behind the scorpion.
'It's that then, there's no other choice.' Wulthgrand turned toward the scorpion madly coming straight at him, looking for the final strike. Wulthgrand put his paws together and closed his eyes. If there was anything you learned among the werewolf tribes, it was the natural magics they practiced to better their daily lives. Not that the werewolves were a very magically inclined people, frankly they lacked any recognizable ability to ever be called magicians. But he was no human and he was no weakling. 'Feel the earth, feel the wind, feel Mytho's fire which brought us our passion, feel the lifeblood in your veins.' He chanted silently in his mind. Then, the werewolf's eyes opened, brimming with a bright energy. Just before the scorpion struck with its claws, the sand between them exploded. It rose into a high torrent, blocking any potential sight of the werewolf - until, suddenly, he came from the air, straight through the settling dust, and landed on the face of the scorpion. "We are the Turafar!" Wulthgrand bellowed as his claws and fangs sunk into the Scorpion's eyes and soft features of it's face, tearing it apart. The resulting green-blooded mess was silent but for the Werewolf's growls, the scorpion's screeches having been very quickly silenced.
The many legs of the creature betrayed it's own weight, the pincers landed heavily on the sand, and the stinger fell over into a pile.
Wulthgrand was breathing heavily, his maw and claws covered in the green ooze that had come out of the beast. "W-we are the Turafar... We are the maddened, welcome us to war and let us welcome you to.. our hell." He finished his chant the best he could while panting. 'By Mytho does my f*cking foot hurt.' Wulthgrand complained.
The werewolf was on his knees on the sand and he reached for the water gourd. The last droplets of water, a man's most unfortunate sensation in the desert. He gladly drank the gourd empty and left it on the ground.
The other, blinded scorpion, yet still alive, had backed away and was nursing it's wounds no doubt. It would not last long. Either the hyenas or predatory birds got to it first, or hunters did.
Wulthgrand took it slow, very much unable to walk properly on his injured ankle. He gathered the weapons back and returned them to the sack - even the broken shield. The weight of the bag of cargo seemed far more than it had before, yet he had to keep going. He was on duty anyway. 'The Red-Bear courier service, we get your package delivered... through freaking scorpions even.' Wulth thought about his new marketing slogan and smiled at his own misfortune.
'Don't think about distance, you won't like the answer.' Wulthgrand commanded himself as he began limping across the sand dunes.
((Oh he's fiiiiine. Ok not really. But I won't have him dead just yet >3> Erm I'll introduce NPCs in the next post. Unless someone else comes up with a very good plot twist, which you should PM me about first.))
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 6:59 am
Mia stood outside the temple door with the other servants, waiting for Ahriman to come out from his prayers. She stood silently, her small stature tucked against the wall with her hands folded in front of her. She wore a pink dress that wrapped around her body with black ornate fastens. The hem of the dress lightly swept the floor, creating a small train that swept the floor along with her folded gold, leaf like wings. Strawberry colored curls draped down her back and framed her small face and gold-red eyes. Along her bared arm was the marking of the goddess Mysto, appearing in a white luminescence, as bright as the day it appeared there.
The young fairy hoped that her Master wouldn't have noticed her absence for the last couple hours. He had been in meeting and prayer the entire time so it was likely that he hadn't...or so she hoped. After Ahriman had let go one of his servants earlier that day without so much as a warning, Mia had been virtually held prisoner by the sobbing ex servant, begging for Mia to pled to her Master to forgive the young girl for her mistakes. As much as Mia wanted to help the poor girl, there was no comfort she could offer the girl. Ahriman never changes his mind, and any pleading would fall on deaf ears. Mia wasn't going to risk her's, and her sister's position, as well as their family honor, for a favor that would help no one. Mia could merely offer the teachings of the goddess as a small comfort. The goddess tests the loyalty of her followers in many ways, and it was one's duty to keep the faith even in times of turmoil. After that Mia could merely offer her best wishes to the girl and send her on her way. As an added measure, Mia asked a second servant to escort the lady out when she was ready. The Master would be very displeased if someone he had let go was still in the palace after so long.
As Mia continued to wait silently at the door, she wished that Cara hadn't already gone to sleep while all this was happening. If it had been earlier in the morning then Cara could have dealt with the unruly girl, leaving Mia to her duties. But alas, that was impossible. Mia wouldn't dare wake up her twin sister for something like that. Cara served Ahriman during the nights, when the rest of the world slumbered, all except for the undead lord and his servant. And so the sister deserved her rest during the day, when her sister Mia took over service for Ahriman, tending to his every need that might come across his path.
((Posting color may be subject to change. >.< Haven't really decided yet))
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 9:19 am
Llewelyn was befuddled by her Ruler’s response. Drawing the silver cloak around her, she quickly wiped her eyes and leaned her arms and elbows onto the stone, praying softly with Ahriman. Sometimes it amazed her how forgiving the General was. It was now she did feel admiration for him. Her eyes fell upon his skeletal hands. She, in fact, was one of the only ones to see what Ahriman was underneath his clothing. He was a miracle of Mysto, as she was…perhaps he did know her exact feelings. Her suffering would never end it seemed. If she was not to look at Mysto for assistance, who was there? ‘Nothing can bind her in place when she truly desires something…’ he had said. Her, being the goddess, but perhaps…Ahriman was a firm believer that Llewelyn was Mysto’s mortal self. She had her spirit residing within her. Could it be he was guiding her? Would he not attempt to stop her if she attempted to escape for a day? She would return, of course. She knew her place, her duties…but could he really be giving her permission? Obediently, Llewelyn said her prayers. She then put up her silvery hood, before leaning down and pressing her lips to the marble feet of Mysto’s statue. She stood, resting her hand upon her heart and again looking upon the Goddess’ marble face. As they both finished, Llewelyn knelt at Ahriman’s feet, taking his hands, though bone, and kissing the tops as a sign of thanks and worship. She lowered her eyes and made her way out of the Temple. She thought deeply as she walked along the corridors of the Silver Halls. She sang a hymn that filled the palace with beautiful music, her voice reverberating against the stone once again. Llewelyn appeared to be a silver phantom, floating around as she thought. When would be the best time to escape? Where would it be? Where would she go? And then it struck her. The Temple. Above the statue of Mysto, there was an opening to allow Her elements to travel inward. To scale the statue of Mysto…how could she have such a thought? And yet, it seemed to be her only option. When? Tonight, during her evening prayer. She wished to explore, know her people. She would sell some jewels to stay in an inn, stay in town for the festival, and return home. Llewelyn’s song ended, and a smile spread across her lips.
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 11:23 am
((We, occupants of the silver hall, apparently now are posting in dark blue, blue and light blue. It's so perfect.))
Ahriman stayed in silence as he and the Countess stayed down by the altar, at the feet of their Goddess's statue. It would appear his questions concerning the matter at hand had been answered, for even no answer, was still one. Mysto's will was brought to the world through her Generals, and if he was not commanded to stop this, she did not wish it to be so. The Council of the Arcanisan elves were to bow before him, bow before her will. Disgraceful resistance would be put down severely. Mysto prevail.
Ahriman observed as Llewenlyn came close once they were done and brought her lips to his bare-bone fingers. He understood the situation as a sign of respect but held no feeling for it. He could only think of her as having been graceful in doing so.
Ahriman stayed behind for a few moments more after she was gone. He gazed up at the face of the statue, his own expression as lifeless as hers. “... My path is forged by your word alone. I will not disappoint you, Mistress.” He spoke and bowed deeply. “I must depart to carry out your will, in your land and to your people and against your enemies.” With these parting words, the Lord put on his silver mask and turned from the altar.
Upon arrival back inside, his masked face glanced at the servant-fairy before he continued walking down the hall. “Follow.” Ahriman commanded Mia. One of the only two trustworthy assistants within these walls when it came to his activities, without the twin fairies everything would run far less efficiently. That idea was the closest Ahriman would ever get to the sensation of being thankful.
“Has the festival committee arrived in accordance to my summons?” Ahriman asked Mia, who he now expected to be right behind him, within hearing distance. In preparation for the coming celebrations there were certain procedures he had to specifically follow, from the very early morning. Little changed year to year, but it had to be well run and pulled off without flaw – as such, dire planning was required. There would be him greeting the public after sun up, wearing the uniform of a military warmage, representing his early life. After a few hours, he would take to the streets on-board of one of the festival floats riding through the city, wearing the uniform but now in the colour red, representing his time at battle. They would go through the whole city and return to the Silver Hall, from whence he would emerge wearing his royal garments and golden mask. With a speech to the people of the city, and the many that came to visit it for this very festival, he would conclude his part of the day. The people's own celebrations would no doubt run into the late night.
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 12:28 pm
Llewelyn returned to her room, where in secret, she began to prepare for her departure. She fashioned a make-shift bag out of one of the silk sheets of her bed, and took a few of her gowns. From her head-dresses, she plucked a few emeralds, rubies, and sapphires to accommodate her through her short trip. She began to rip the left over sheets, creating a rope so she would be able to get through the opening in the Temple’s ceiling. It was now that Llewelyn considered the consequences—
If the High Council ever heard about this, what would happen? If they ever found out, it was likely she would never be able to serve on the Council again. And what would that be like? A life outside the ever imprisoning walls of the Silver Hall…and if she did come back without them finding out, she would just continue her life as normal with the beautiful memory of her trip. She smiled. Her heart told her to press on—no harm would come to her. And Mysto would watch her, protect her; Llewelyn would pray for such fortune.
She changed gown, into an older one that had no ceremonial value, and braided her long silver blue hair back, taking off the jewels and ribbons in her hair. She slipped off her jewels, accessories, and anything recognizable to the Council. Llewelyn swung the silver cloak to cover herself, tying it together at the nape of her neck before pulling the hood up so it covered her eyes to conceal herself. She then allowed her own private prayer to escape her,
“Mysto, by your grace, I take my leave. May you be with me on my journey. I shall return to your Temple.” She whispered.
Concealing her belongings beneath her cloak, her servants than guided her back to the Temple. Llewelyn felt the stone doors slide shut behind her. The air had gotten much colder since this morning. The looming shadow of the enormous statue lingered over her. Silently, the woman moved towards the large marble figure.
“Forgive me, your ladyship.” She whispered.
From her bag, she grabbed the sheet-rope. Creating a loop, she threw it over one of the statue’s arm, and pulled it taught. Llewelyn, bag in hand, began to scale the marble figure. She climbed up, nearly slipping several times, but she uttered no sound. Her legs and arms grew sore as she hoisted herself up, until she was able to stand atop the arm of Mysto. From there she untied the rope, collecting it and putting it back into her bag. She then balanced along the figure’s arm, to the shoulder, and finally climbing atop the head.
She looked down—the vast stone Temple floor was beneath her. If she fell from here, she would surley die. “Show no fear—Mysto be with me.”
She reached up her arms and grasped the rim of the opening. Llewelyn took a breath. She jumped, swinging her body up and around, landing atop the roof and overlooking the hole in which Mysto stood. She had done it.
Now, to get past the guards surrounding the outer wall.
Llewelyn strapped her bag on her back and came to the edge of the Silver Hall’s roof and looked over. Below, there was a large pile of snow in which she could fall in. It was concealed in an ally. From there, she could sneak past the guards and make her way into town.
The elvish woman took a few steps back and shut her eyes. Llewelyn lifted her skirts and began barreling forward—her feet hit the edge and she jumped.
SHWOOP!
Snow poofed up around her as the pile reacted to her landing in it. From there, she stood, brushing the excess off herself. Llewelyn moved to the opening of the ally. A few guards stood, but there were bustling elves among them. She slipped into the crowd.
She had done it. Llewelyn was out of the Silver Hall.
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 3:54 pm
Romhild nodded slightly in understanding when the dragon replied to her introduction, remaining respectfully silent as he continued to converse with the elf. The auburn-haired swordswoman said nothing in reply to the elf, either, though for entirely different reasons. She continued to glare at him for many moments, up until it became quite apparent that she was no longer significant to the current situation. Without so much as a word of goodbye, she turned to leave, figuring that she had better things to do for the sake of human kind than to waste her minutes away just standing around like a fool for a conversation she didn't honestly care for.
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Posted: Sun Mar 04, 2012 4:00 pm
"Farewell Iri. Like the wind, I must continue on my journey." He bowed slightly before heading off after Romhild. Once a fair distance from Iri he spoke. "So, Either you're a mercenary or a rebel. Which is it?" He stepped out in front of her, crossing his arms. He hoped it was the later, then her loyalties to his cause would be much more stable.
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