Best of luck to the contestants and happy new mayoring!
Best of luck to the contestants and happy new mayoring!
NOTE Admittedly, I have not spent alot of time in the Thearyn discord but I do keep up on my reading there. I wrote this piece about a grand count in the Duchy as part of a series, I hope you enjoy it.
Sir Mordred awoke with a cough. Reaching for the blood stained towel next to the bedding he looked at the dwindling fire. Once hot and full of determination it now sputtered and crackled, expending its last attempts to remain in this world.
Sitting up he poured himself some water. The winter was in his lungs now, heavy. Once he caught his breath he threw more wood on the fire. Gingerly he sat in his reading chair next to the hearth. His body cursing him from a long life in the military. He felt every broken bone and every scar these days, it was if they had never healed but merely took a hiatus. The old wounds had returned now and they hurt almost as much as when they were fresh. Staring into the fire he thought of his sister, long since dead. He was alone now in this world, the rest of his family having turned their backs on him. What few friends he had acquired throughout his life were either dead or too old to travel, as was he. If it weren't for the elders in the nearby village, he too would have perished by now. The elders remembered him and his deeds in life, the lives he had saved, and the battles he had fought to keep them safe. Every few weeks someone came out to his modest house bringing food and sometimes wine. Now that the snow has fallen he may not see anyone for a month or more. It was very likely that he would never see anyone ever again, he will die alone.
His sister Ariel had been lost 50 years past. She had left on a Hunting Expedition never to return. The search party had found her bow and signs of a bloody struggle. The Trackers found what little remained of Ariel in a Dire Wolves’ den. Sir Mordred ordered the entire pack destroyed, but yet it did nothing to quell his grief. He wished he had told her how much she had meant to him, how she had been his best friend. He cried sitting there alone by the growing fire wishing he had told her so while she was still alive.
His brother Jonas has taken up the mantle of Lord of Langrisser County. Jonas was no warrior, nor young himself, so the protection of their Homeland fell to Jonas's eldest son, Baal. Sir Mordred had trained the lad in combat since he was able to stand. An able warrior and competent strategist, Baal would not allow Langrisser County or the Duchy of Thearyn to fall to their enemies. Unfortunately that list of enemies grew every year that Baal was in command.
He had not spoken to his brother or his brother’s son in over 10 years. They were angry with him as Mordred would not yield his sword to the younger Langrisser. A family heirloom, The Relic Sylphkrieg had been wielded by a Langrisser for untold generations. Sir Mordred had hidden it deep within the family vault right under their noses in Zephyr City. Baal Langrisser had been furious, ransacking the entirety of Mordrid's keep in search of the sword. Screaming about his birthright, Baal had beaten the Elder Langrisser to near death. Mordred had never given up the location of where he had hidden the sword, and never would. Turned out from his home in the Keep, cut off from the family treasury, Mordred now lived in this modest hunting shack on Sylph mountain.
The sword had been handed down to him by his own father on his deathbed. He had sworn an oath to his father that day, not knowing the ramifications it would have. The oath was to keep the sword from falling into the hands of their enemies. Unfortunately this included Baal and by extension, Mordred's own brother Jonas.
Staring into the fire, Sir Mordred remembered back to when he was just a boy. His sister Ariel was but a babe in arms, still suckling at his mother's breast, when the Deranged King of Xeilias visited their Manor. He was there to give his father praise for the expertise of their militia in service to the Kingdom. Mordred could remember the palpable anxiety of the house staff as they prepared for the King’s visit, everything needed to be perfect. As a boy Mordred didn't really understand why, as a man he learned too well the ruthlessness of the Deranged King.
On his deathbed, Sir Mordred’s father had confided in him a terrible secret. During that visit the Deranged King threatened the lives of all the Langrissers. Drunk on a hearty Thearyn Red, the Deranged King desired to lay with Sir Mordred's mother. If his father refused, the King would have them all executed. With a sword to his throat Sir Mordred’s father refused, it was only by the hand of his mother gently moving the blade from his father's throat and placing a kiss upon his mouth that their bloodline lived on. Nine months later Jonas was born.
Early on in the training of his nephew he could see traces of the Deranged King. Quick to anger, Baal showed no remorse when he injured his sparring partners. Often mistaking kindness for weakness, Baal bullied his peers and showed no empathy for his own people. Sir Mordred never told Jonas the truth about their mother and what she endured for her family's survival, as was his father’s wish.
Without an heir of his own, when Sir Mordred dies, so does the Langrisser lineage. Sir Mordred felt a terrible despair at the loss of the bloodline. He felt deep sadness for what his mother had endured in VAIN, because of him. Sir Mordred had never been married. Married instead to his duty as Count, never realizing that he had forsaken his truest duty until it was too late.
He had known love, once. The oldest Winterlynn girl, Violet, was just a few years younger than he. The two families were long time allies and as such Mordred enjoyed her company at many a festival or Gala. When they were small they would often disappear from the festivities and go exploring in the wood. She was athletic and a bit boyish, always climbing trees and catching toads. She had deep amber hair that she always kept in a thick braid behind her. One cool autumn day, sitting by the brook on her father’s lands, she undid the braid and the tangle of wild red hair fell about her face. All the breath left Mordrid and at that moment he fell in love with her. He was just fourteen at the time but even now, some 80 years later, he still smiled at the memory.
But, like always, the memory moved on to the next and the smile faded. To show fealty to the Deranged King, Lord Winterlynn had promised her hand to the King’s son. Every noble family in the Empire had turned out for the wedding. The Langrissers had a special invitation as honored guests for their contributions to the Thearyn war effort. They were granted a room in the castle alongside their Duke rather than a hovel within the city proper like many aristocrats. Late on the eve of the wedding Mordred heard a tapping at the window under which he slept. It was Violet on his balcony! They climbed down and hid within the hayloft of a barn. She was distraught and Mordred comforted her best he could. She cried about how unfair it was and how she truly loved HIM. Eventually, they both succumbed to their pent up desire for one another and lay together in the fresh cut hay. Mordred never told her that he loved her. He insisted that she forget him or they both would lose their lives. Thinking back on it now, he wished he had been killed for love then, instead of watching his body fail him in this shack, alone. The one woman he had ever loved and Mordred had not told her so. He wept openly then, no longer the Commander or the Count, but just a man. Unashamed of his feelings, understanding now as a wise old man, that LOVE is the only reason for living. Love for his country and people had kept him as their protector all those years but now he realized that he had been living only half a life. He could not change the past, but he could make amends with himself. He struggled to kneel in front of the fire and prayed for forgiveness. He apologized to the gods for not having allowed himself to love openly. He admitted that he had kept it inside and had not truly shared his love with the people who deserved it the most. He asked forgiveness from his father, his sister, Violet, and especially himself. He truly regretted not telling them all, even Jonas, that he loved them. He missed them all so very much. Not because he was lonely, but because once the moment has passed it can never be relived. He should have taken every moment available to appreciate life and the people he loved. Accepting this and the fate given to him by the gods, Sir Mordred found peace within his heart.
His creaky old knees complained as he stood, the fire was now fully reinvigorated and Mordred lay back in his bed. As the cold night wore on the fire illuminated less and less of the room. Like so many nights, he dreamt of the many battles he had fought and his calling out of his Family’s Mantra before battle. Like the dwindling light of the fire, Sir Mordred Langrisser passed on.
His soul was lifted up and he could see himself lying in the bed. Rising up on the Wind he could now see the roof of his house and the lights of the village in the valley at the base of his mountain. He was aware of two spirits that had joined him, the Sylphs of the mountain were indeed real! They summoned a breeze and the three of them blew across Langrisser County. He could see Thearyn in its entirety, the mountain range to the north leading down to the plains and finally to Zephyr City. The wind carried his soul far across the land, somehow he knew where he was being lead. Soon the capital of Alesia was upon the horizon. The sylphs swirled about Sir Mordred's soul, the winds carrying it down towards the castle in the center of the huge city. There he saw his one true love for the last time. He knew he was seeing into the past as she looked just as he remembered her. With her long auburn hair, green eyes, and pale skin she was radiant. Mordred was filled with love and was glad she was happy. She was sitting in the green grass laughing at a child playing nearby. The soul of Sir Mordred finally understood why they had brought him here. He recognized the child, she was the mirror image of his sister Ariel at that age! The child was his! Joy filled his soul as he understood that Violet knew the child was not Xeilian. Just as the Deranged King had tainted the Langrisser bloodline long ago, Mordred had tainted his. The gods are just, how poetic! The Sylphs lifted him him up then and delivered him to the Akashic Records. There he would await the time another Langrisser is born and his soul may again rejoin the world.
As the horse continues its slow pace into the borders, an armed contingent rides past the sole rider. The sole rider, a shield hung over his back, a long sword on his side, is carrying news of the battle, riding slowly, baring good news. As he reaches the gate of the Great City of Thearyn, a single guard aims a halberd at his chest, stopping the rider.
"State your name." The guard demands, the coat of arms on his tunic showing one. The Duchy, the County, and lastly, the City of Thearyn, all upon his chest, emblazened with a small shield of the kingdom, the Great Kingdom of Alesia, on his upper right corner. The rider, wearing nothing but chain mail, and a simple bag simple nods, before uttering a single phrase.
"I am Azazel, demonic son of Aestra Zamako, and I come word with the victory of the Alesian forces against Vorniar at the battle of the Mountiantop." The single rider states, as the guard lowers his halberd, a smile playing on his face.
"Ride in, Azazel. Bring forth the news to the world." The guard states, as Azazel gallops off from a stand still, his horse ready at any moment for the sudden speed needed. As Azazel rides past the opened shops, a sudden cry is heard from the gate, as it is passed around the city, heard from the poorest slums to the richest mansions.
"Alesia is safe! Vornair has been beaten back!" Is heard throughout the streets, as all shoot up and start to cheer, staring at the galloping rider, his chain mail glinting in the light, his shield bouncing the light all around him. As Azazel reaches the gate of the castle, without a word, the gate opens, and Azazel enters the mighty castle walls.
Azazel is led directly to the throne room of the Duke, and upon the thrones are the Duke, Varuian Maulvorn, and his Duchess. Azazel without word, kneels before the Duke, his sword placed point down, his head on the hilt.
"Your Grace, I come baring news. I was sent by the King, King Phyllian with a message. We have won this battle, and shall be going on the offensive. He has come to request more troops, to push back Vornair, while we wait for the rest of the coalition to arrive." Azazel rattles off, not even stopping to breath.
"I will get on with that later. Good warrior, tell me if my son is alright." Varuian asks, his voice nearly cracking with the worry he feels in his heart.
"Your Grace, you need not worry for the safety of your son. I was placed under his command in battle, and he is currently the only commander unharmed or not ill." Azazel says, a small smile on his face.
"Perfect. Now can you tell me how many troops are requested." Varuian asks.
"As many as you can muster. And you are also requested, Your Grace. Now, if you will excuse me, I must return."
"Return to where?" The Duchess asks, her voice soft like butter.
"To the war, Your Grace. I love me a good battle." And with that, Azazel leaves the throne room, sheathing his blade, and mounting back onto his horse, riding towards the army, and ready to kill more.
Good entries so far.
It was a cold night, a few light can be seen from afar, and some horses can be heard running on the road, it was Andrew Zamako, known as the son of Aestra Zamako a mayor, and the leader of the Golden Phoenix, the strongest merencery group in the area, Andrew was wearing plated armor and a masterwork bastard sword, his steed was white as snow, and there was a banned behind him, it was a blue background and a golden phoenix, it was the banner of the Golden Phoenix.
He went to a village near his fathers city, he got a request from them, but he was not told what it was, so he went there to speak to the village mayor. as Andrew got into the village the mayor awaited him with some of his family, Andrew got of his steed to speak to the man, as he came closer he would see 10 men armed with swords, it seems this is a ambush my Andrew's rivals or political enemies, he got his sword out and his men got their swords out to. Andrew: "You won't live long fools, do you know who i am, i am Andrew Zamako, son of Aestra Zamako and leader of the Golden Phoenix Company." As he said that his enemies begun to laugh Enemy leader: "We know, that is why we are attacking you, your father will pay pretty penny for your ransom"
As Andrew heared that he got ready for an attack, he had 7 men with him against 10 of them, luckly the enemies were inexperienced and his men were veterans equpied with best armor and weapons in the city, when the enemies begun to charge the wounded Andrews leg, but before he got killed he chopped the head of his attacker, soon enough all of them died, the mayor was still here, Andrew then said Andrew: "You have betreyed my trust, and for that you and your family shall die, and this village will be under the control of Zamako's" he said as he chopped the mans head of, killed his children and sold his wife to a brothel, he would then place the banned of his family where the last banned was placed, the skull of the last mayor is now hanging around his waist, this is the fate of anyone who tries to kill Andrew.
As he rode back to the city to tell his father the news he met a small child begging for money in the middle of the night, alone, he took the child into the company to be trained, or for something more sinister, who knows...
When he entered the city he seen his brother Azazel "Demon" Zamako, after he had a drink and told he what happened they went their sperate ways, Andrew went to report to his father what happened and who knows what his brother did. He came to his father and told him. Andrew: "Father, a small village mayor tried to attack me, so i killed him and took the village for us, i sold his wife and his children won't return because i killed them" Astrea smiled and told him to leave.
Andrew would then get a new request, but this time from his fater, he was told of a small bandit group that lived near the road, he took around 20 men with him and went to find the bandits that are causing all the commotion for the merchants bringing in goods.
After a few good hours of searching one of his men reproted to him that they found the camp, and seen around 23 men, but there might be more or less, Andrew hoped there was less because it will take less time to kill them if there is less of them.
He and his men then sorrounded the camp and started to burn it to get all of them out, or to maybe kill some sleeping ones, Andrew would then run in with his men, but he did not think there would archers around, and he got 3 of his men killed, but right after that the archers got killed by his men.
Andrew then started to fight the bandits with his men, he got a few wounds but killed 2 bandits all alone, at the end of the battle he lost 9 men but they killed most of the bandits, some have succeded in running away, but they wont be able to do much now that Andrew massacred them
After that he collected the money and payed some money to the family of the dead ones, he would then go to rest in his mansion, he hoped his day would go better tommorw.
(Sorry if i spelled something wrong, my english is not the best)
Mayor Ravenforge awoke as the red sky of dawn shown through his window. He kissed his sleeping wife gently as to not wake her. He arose dressed himself he briefly looks at the scar across his chest from his fight with the pirate lord everyone calls Captain Kidd before putting on his loose linen shirt and trousers. He walks outside and is greeted by his two wolves Aurum and Argentum. He briefly petted them both as he looked out across his town of Hideaway before continuing on his path to the pub on the harbor. Aurum and Argentum follow close behind on the watch for any attack against their master. Mayor Ravenforge commanded his wolves to return home
The barkeep already busy serving other customers. The smell of fresh food filled the small pub. “Good morning Mayor Ravensforge! Will you be having your usual?” asked the barkeep already moving before even receiving an answer. Preparing eggs, fish, glowtato hash brown.
Wes smiled and took his usual set near the window to look out over the calm water as the sun began to peer over the horizon.“Yes please Raulyn and I’ve told you many times you can just call me Wes” The sun began to peer through the masts of the ships.
Raulyn set the plate down “Here you are Mayor Rave….. Wes. Your usual.” Raulyn awkwardly stood next to the table before finally sitting across from Wes. “So, tell me what should i expect from this new year now that you’ve been named the new Chancellor of Production & Treasury of Vesenia.”
Wes took a bit of his meal savoring it before finally answering “You know I can’t discuss that with you, but I see a profitable year if all goes well.” Wes finished his meal and leaned back in his chair “Well I best be off. I'm going sailing this morning and maybe do some fishing while we are out there” Wes slides a few gold pieces to Raulyn. “Thank you.”
Wes leaves and heads down towards the end of the harbor to his boat called “Knot Shore”, a small Cog with a crew of about 10 men. His crew readying the ship for her voyage out this day. “Cap’n on deck!” the first mate, Mr. “One legged” Smitty called out as the crew came to attention. “Back to work gentleman.” Mayor Ravenforge called out. “Mr. Smitty when will be ready to cast away?” Asked Mayor Ravensforge as he looked out towards the see. He spotted a few ships from the Vesnia’s navy academy. One ship even bared the kraken flag, the symbol that Count Ray the Kraken-Slayer was on board. “Shortly sir. 10 minutes at the latest.” Mr. Smitty replied as he stood beside Mayor Ravenforge.
Shortly after “Knot Shore” set sail towards towards the depths away from the lagoon of Hideaway. Mayor Ravenforge prayed a quick prayer to the Virtorian Gods as the crew of “Knot Shore” headed off to their daily activities with their Mayor on board as the finally rose into the sky.
For the purposes of this story, I have turned my eye away from sheer impossibility of trans-server travels. Here is my vision of how my (aimed for) character, Raevald Triggmestr, set his foot on the land of Duchy of Thearyn.
|Raevald Triggmestr, Merchant of Geliedhor Log about Arcavine Cruise|
How long I have lived this life, only Gods know. For an excruciatingly long time, in my own city of Geliedhor I lived, trained and prepared myself and my ship, my strong “Arcavine” for this voyage.
Since I was a little boy, I spend much time in my father's trading post, located very close to the famous port and shipyard of our city. Every new day when I was observing trade ships sailing to and from the harbor, I learned something new, every day was exciting.
I have heard many stories brought by sailors to our city, stories of faraway lands, of their riches and fame. One of those stories was a story about legendary riders from Duchy of Thearyn, about their fearlessness, skill, and devotion to the art of combat. But, also about their deep code of honor.
Those stories were so... pure, so perfect, that it seems like a dream. If there was one thing I loved more than the sea and ships, it was horses, their magnificent forms, loyalty to their human friends but also the fact that you can rely on these beautiful and brave mounts.
I swore to myself then, if I live up to adulthood, I will sail to Thearyn to see those wonderful creatures and their riders with my own eyes.
Many years had passed, now I am a merchant on my own, respected and recognized. My father's legacy flourishes under our family skillful administration, and with it, my family is also well-stocked and widely respected. Now, after all those years, I still haven't forgotten about my old oath. I have left my trading post, muster my crew and loaded my hull with supplies for a long journey... but also with some wares, like our famous Geliedhorian steel. I hope that if Gods allow me to see the land of Thearyn, I will be able to buy supplies for a journey back and maybe buy some of their wares. Today, we set sails and cast off our harbor, our families, our friends, and relatives have said goodbye to us.
Today I was woken up at sunrise, by my first officer and right hand, Angorath. He told me that we have company. A Thearynian merchant ship has met us in open sea, and their captain sends his compliments by raising a well-known, universal maritime flag gala on his tallest mast. Later I met with him, and it seems their language is very close to our own. It brings me hope because if there will be fewer troubles with communication, there is a chance of connection. For a merchant like me, every connection can be made a profitable one, And if there is a profit, that is a good thing. The captain of their ship confirmed to me existence of those steeds and riders. He told me, that his cruise mission was to explore oceans and make contacts in name of the Count of Estrallia, a coastal county in Duchy of Thearyn. For a goodbye gift, I gave him a masterful sword made of Geliedhorian steel, he in exchange gave me an Thearynian shield. We also exchanged maritime maps.
Today our watch from the "eye" reported that land is in sight. If the map is good, and I was not mistaken, we are sailing straight to Estrallia. Gods, make my hand firm and my brain wise when I set our course then, after meeting with Therenian ship... I am getting nervous. So close to my childhood fantasy, so close to fulfilling that oath... And also so close to meeting a new culture, new trade opportunities and, more importantly, so close to exploring land barely known in Geliedhor...
We are doing cabotage cruise along the coast, at present, we are surrounded by ships of various types, from small fishing boats to two large war four-mast vessels in the Estrallian Count's colors. On my deck, arm in arm with me is a local navigator. I am nervous...
Day 74, evening.
I have set my foot on the soil of their capital city, Luccini. My wares and myself were welcomed very warmly. People here are very logical and trade-oriented. By accident, I have met His Grace the Duke of Thearyn, Varulan Maulvorn. He's very charismatic and also very wise. We have written a trade agreement between the County of Estrallia and Trade City of Geliedhor.
No one knows what tomorrow brings.
We hope for the best.
EDIT: I wrote it in Word, and the page ate my enters, so I reentered those enters to enter my text.
NOTE: This story was written by a member of my community. I am posting this here with his permission.
Jax Mourningstar was born in the early morning hours in the city of Rothmar. His frail mother lost the battle of life struggling to bring the boy into this world. The boy's father, a member of the county military, was anything but a willing father. The man left his son on the steps of the Rothmar Orphanage with only a note explaining the boy would have a better life without his influence, and an excuse as to why he, himself, would not make a good father.
As things tend to go in an orphanage the young boy was underfed, unloved, and learned quickly that trust got people hurt. Jax found freedom at the age of seven when he decided to take destiny into his hands by escaping the hell which was the orphanage. The horrors of the orphanage had taught him the skills necessary to survive the harsh streets of the county capital. He was forced to steal food from merchant carts to stay alive.
One day, after stealing a loaf of bread and a small ham, Jax found himself over looking a small battlefield. He settled down in the grass and began to partake of his stolen meal. He watched as the armored knights on their magnificent mounts charged into a band of cut throats and robbers. For the most part the robbers were wearing only leathers, some in chainmail. They had apparently been running from the knights for some time, and only now, with the sea blocking escape did they turn to fight. Jax finished his meal, watching as a cut throats loaded and released his weapon. The arrow flew across the battlefield, impaling one of the knights. The projectile found its mark, killing the knight with a direct hit to the man’s eye. Jax viewed the scene in horror. He can see the arrow find its way through the back of the man’s head.
The knight falls from his mount and lies still. As the young boy watched, the cut throat sprung forward and lept onto the now riderless horse. He broke toward Jax at full speed. One knight stopped to look at his fallen companion. He seemed to take offense at the man's death and chased after the bandit. Jax moved to the top of a nearby rock as the outlaw reached the small summit. The cutthroat turned on his mount brought up his bow and prepared a barbed arrow. The tip of the arrow dripped with some sort of liquid. Jax turned seeing the armored knight wasn't wearing a helmet. The man would be a sitting duck. Springing to action, without thought of his own safety, Jax threw himself at the mounted would be killer. He pushed the man from his horse as they both tumbled to the grass, breaking the bow in the process. The boy was small, underfed, and not trained to fight. He was quickly overpowered. The knight would arrive in time to see Jax thrown aside. The noble’s mace made contact with the cutthroat's skull, killing him in a spray of thick maroon oose. Jax crawled back as the knight surveyed the scene. It took him only a moment to make the decision that the boy had saved his life, and after examining the barbed arrow he found it had been covered in a fast acting poison.
The knight, who Jax later learned was one of the famed Swords of Justice, took jax as his squire, which was unheard of. A Sword of the order didn't take just any boy off the street and make him an initiate of the order. Jax was the smallest, poorest, and youngest member of the order. It lead to jealousy among the other squires. It would seem the life he knew in the orphanage was heaven in comparison to the life he now faced within the Order. Jax was forced to fight, every day, in training and in the barracks. It was clear the other boys hated him. They ensured Jax knew he was not one of them nor worthy of the honor the knight had bestowed upon him. Six or seven years passed, each filled with grueling fights, learning, and more than a few broken bones.
Eventually Jax would move from an initiate to a full fledged brother within the order. It was during this time when the young man would first see the Lady Stelaphina, eldest daughter and heir of James Onlinger, Count of Hulsteria. She was the most beautiful being he'd ever seen. Long dark hair fell down her back in waves, her hazel eyes, almost green like summer grass, held his gaze a moment then released him. She was the very definition of an angel.
She was attending a feast which was being held after a tournament sponsored by her father. Jax had participated in the event. He'd been victorious in the melee. He placed fifth in the archery contest and won the joust. Over all he had won the contest for his age group; a result of his training under the Sword of Justice no doubt. When the tournament finished the winners dressed in their finest clothes and sat in the Count’s Dining hall. It was not something Jax enjoyed. He sat there looking more uncomfortable as time passed. Just before he had too much, the young Stelaphina would come out with her siblings and take her place at the Count's table. She was regal, resplendent in a light blue dress. She wore a thin circlet upon her brow marking her as the heir. When the toasts were done and the dancing began Jax was given the chance to dance with the young Lady.
His hand shook as he took hers and led her to the dance floor. Her cheeks took a rosy hue as they both realized the eyes of those in attendance were upon them. Keeping a respectful distance between them, he was still able to note she smelled like a spring morning; her hands warm in his as they performed the dance. It seemed like time slowed as the dance continued. Jax was lost in that moment. Such would begin Jax's drive to become worthy of the young woman's hand.
Jax would spend the next several years fighting and learning; growing as a man and a warrior. Every time he won a tournament he'd look forward to the feast after if only to catch a glimpse of the future countess. It would be nearly another seven years before jax would be made a Knight of the order. The promotion would come following the death of Jax's mentor and father figure, Zargabranth, the Sword of Justice died in his sleep. The old Sword had left a will naming Jax his successor. That along with an impeccable record saw the votes quickly pile in Jax's favor. Jax took his role as Sword of Justice very seriously. He spent much of his time enforcing the laws of the Virtori Church. He wasn't the perfect believer but neither was he some heretical savage that denounced the religion. He attended services regularly and tithed appropriately. He remained humble and followed the seven virtues as much as he was able.
After becoming the Sword of Justice, it was then Count Onlinger approached him about marrying Lady Sofia, his youngest daughter. Ser Jax respectfully declined the offer, stating his heart had been Lady Stelaphina’s since their first dance many years prior. James was not pleased with the knight’s refusal. Sofia was considered even more beautiful than Stelaphina, but he could not deny understanding the man’s desire to follow his heart. The Count explained that such a union would not benefit House Onlinger, also any union arranged for his heir would need to be approved by Duke Maulvorn, as lord of the lands.
Jax’s heart was set on Stelaphina. He advised the Count he would travel to Thearyn, the capital of the duchy, and speak with the duke. Jax was no stranger to House Maulvorn, as a Sword of the Order he swore fealty to the duke. He made the journey. His heart pound within his chest as he approached the duke’s receiving room. The guards led him to the duke seated upon his gilded throne. His voice echoed and vibrated as he pleaded for the duke to approve the union between he and Stelaphia. The duke listened as the young man spoke of soulmates and eternal love. He held back the smile fighting to take over his lips, remembering the innocence of young love. In the end the pious duke was moved by the young knight’s words and gave his blessing to the union.
Jax heart was light as he hurried back to Rothmar. His life images filled his mind as he rode. He remembered back upon his days in the orphanage and the cruelty at the hands of others. The struggle to gain the respect of the other members of his Order. Mostly, his mind danced over the image of Stelaphina, her beauty and poise accompanied him over the distance.
He had started life as a parentless child, discarded by those who were supposed to love him, and now he would marry Lady Stelaphina who would one day be Countess Stelaphina and High Lady of Rothmar. The young boy no one wanted would soon be lord of the County which had once rejected him. As he rode, a single resolution filled his mind, he would see Hulsteria prosper, thus would the Duchy of Thearyn and the Kingdom of Alesia. He would see these names upon the lips of all who called Luna home.
Really like just sitting in here reading all of these. Good luck to everyone participating!
@Maulvorn Thank you for all the events you have been pulling together, people like you make this a better place.
Posted By JohnnyViscerate at 6:46 PM - Wed Jan 02 2019
@Maulvorn Thank you for all the events you have been pulling together, people like you make this a better place.
NOTE: I have gotten a few PMs about the story so I thought I'd post the next chapter for everyone.
Today was her naming day. Her grandfather King Phyllain was throwing an immense festival to celebrate it. All throughout the Capital of Alesia flowers were strung, musicians tuned up their instruments and bakers laid out their treats. In the Grand Arena, the Gladiators were just arriving for the day’s sport. She stood upon her balcony in the morning sun and breathed in deep, she felt like a woman reborn. She had awoken at midnight, without breath. Panic stricken she had rolled out of bed and onto the floor coming down hard on all fours. When she was able to draw in a breath her mouth opened wide filling her lungs to capacity. Her eyes rolled white and her head snapped backwards before she exhaled with a cough. Panting, sweat dripping from her brow, she smiled a sideways smile that was uncharacteristic for the demure 14 year old girl who had laid her head upon the pillow mere hours before.
Standing now upon the balcony she looked at her hands and flexed them into fists several times. She felt stronger after her midnight run through the wood. Immediately following her “seizure” she had donned her boots and ran and ran and ran as if she had been a prisoner her entire life. Looking above her at the balcony doorway she lept up to grab a hold of the stone arch and pulled herself up to stand upon it. Turning, she laughed aloud and reached for the next closest window ledge and then the roofline. In a matter of seconds she was running along the crest of the roof like a squirrel, never having parkour’d in her life. A would-be princess has no business doing such things!
She felt amazing and jumped down 10 feet to a balcony below. Entering the dining area her grandfather looked up from his meal.
“Hello dear I hadn’t seen you come in, Happy Naming Day, I hope you slept well?”
“I feel wonderful Grandfather.” She said, leaning in to give him a kiss upon the cheek before sitting next to him. Her Grandfather doted upon her as she was his only grandchild. Her Uncle was always off on the war front, too busy to bother with marriage. Her own parents had passed on so it was just her and the King in the Palace.
The servants plated her a meal. Looking at her clothes the King gruffed, “Going riding are you? Please don’t be late for your own ceremony, you know I don’t like to wait.”
“I won’t Grandfather.” The King was a decent Mann, a just-ruler, but he certainly liked to keep to a schedule and today that schedule was full.
On her way to the stables she grabbed a hunting bow and quiver. Her mother had taught her to shoot but never to hunt as that was not proper for a Princess. She and her mother had both been very good Archers and the King frequently shamed his own menn by having them compete against the women of his house. He loved to brag about their talents and claimed them as a Xeilian trait. Donning a cloak, she left without an escort. Something the King would be angry over, she made haste and once out of the city gates rode full gallop into the wood.
Standing tall in the stirrups she loosed arrow after arrow at the trees and signposts along the road. Not hitting her mark as often as she liked she went back and collected the arrows for another run; this time hitting many more as well as three squirrels! Eventually she knew it was time to head to the celebration. As she came out of the woods she donned the hood and trotted in through the city gates. The road was crowded from all the citizenry coming in for the festival. Seeing a poor child and his mother begging alongside the road, she leaned down to give them the squirrels she had kilt. When she did some of her red hair spilled out from under her hood. When the child saw the hair he looked into her eyes, his smile went wide. He whispered “Happy Naming Day!” and with a wink and a smile she rode off to the castle.
Once back in her room she looked at herself in the looking glass. She looked just like her Mum with Amber red waves of hair and green eyes. Her body too was becoming like a woman’s and often she turned the heads of the stable boys. She wished her mother was here, especially today with how different she felt. Her mother had been an amazing woman, having raised her alone after the death of her father. Beautiful and fierce she never had backed down from a challenge, or challenger. Her strength and defiance toward the King had only been explained two years ago just before her mother’s death.
On her deathbed her mother had shared her most intimate secret and made the child swear to never speak of it to anyone lest her own daughter when the time comes;
“We are children of the Wind my love. Your grandmother, the Queen, once loved a man before her hand was given to the King. I am the child of that mann, and you are his granddaughter.”
Her mother had passed away that same day, the knowledge she left her daughter tormented her day and night. Everyone attributed her despondence to the death of her Mum. In reality it was the secret that kept her awake at night, pouring over old maps. The secret of her true name …Langrisser.
She had met the Langrissers but once when she was very young. All she remembered was an old man named Jonas who, when meeting her mother, had dropped his glass. For a moment he looked as if he had seen a ghost, his eyes darting from mother to daughter before he regained himself and bowed in reverence. Her grandfather had dismissed him as an old fool.
The Naming ceremony was Grand! Jugglers and performers, actors and actresses, and the FOOD! The food was divine. The Gladiators never failed to impress as did the Trison Matadors. She was showered with gifts from all across Alesia. Some were thoughtful, others grandiose in an effort to impress the King. The Horse Lord of Thearyn, Duke Maulvorn, presented her with the most beautiful foal she had ever seen! Pure white like a fresh snow she immediately named it Crystal, promising her grandfather that she would train her every day. But her favorite gift of the day was a headband adorned with the ears of a Foxcelot, it was adorable and kind of fierce! She wore them the entirety of the day.
Just before the Grand Feast the ceremony was held for her to choose her new name. Although she liked her birth name she now strongly felt that it was her time to become the woman she was meant to be. When, in front of the crowd of people, the King asked her to choose a name, she did. Kayile.
When next he asked “What is it my Granddaughter? What is it that you want most in this world as a gift from me?”
Without hesitation she spoke just two words: “Zephyr County”
“So be it!” The King exclaimed, and the crowd roared in applause. A sly sideways smile crossed her face as she hugged the King.
all of these stories are great! i enjoy reading them alot! We have alot of creativity! Well done guys keep it going!
Kynlo Tha'una had always loved his industrial village with its fine, faithful forge. It was a place where he felt confident and at home.
He was an admirable, charming, whiskey drinker with brunette hair and dark eyes. His friends saw him as an amusing, hard worker and a faithful friend with a strong heart. Once, he had even brought a shivering fox back from the brink of death before helping it regain its strength to return to the wild. That's the sort of man he was.
Kynlo walked over to the window and reflected on his noisy surroundings. The hail pounded like horses running over the shattered bones of a warriors enemies.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Varuian Maulvorn. Varuian was the Dutchy of Thearyn and a splendid knight with a fantastic sense of fashion who always had an air of nobility around him.
Kynlo gulped. He was not prepared for Varuian, not when there was work to be done to prepare for The Longest Night.
As Kynlo stepped outside and Varuian came closer, he could see the uptight glint in his eye.
To Kynlos relief, Variuan walked straight past him, directly to a mysterious woman dressed all in black with her face hidden by a veil.
Varuian gazed at her with the affection of a thousand butterflies. He said, in hushed tones, "Do you have the answers that I require?."
Kynlo looked back, puzzled at this strange interaction between his dutchy and an unknown lady. He walked slightly towards them so he could hear better. "Varuian, this is for the good of Alésia, and the Kingdom" The mysterious woman replied to Varuian. She continued but her voice became too quiet for Kynlo to make out.
Varuian and the lady looked at each other and their feelings could be felt, almost bleeding through the atmosphere, like two loving dogs smiling at their owner, with classical music playing in the background and stars shooting through the sky, to the beat of their hearts.
Varuian turned suddenly and his eyes met Kynlos. He walked closer, stopped in front of him and said, "You speak nothing of this meeting, for it never happened." Kynlo simply nodded, for he had great regard for his Dutchy.
Looking back to where the woman was stood, Varuian was now looking at the flickering shadow of the forge, cast against the stone wall of a building.
Varuian smiled to himself, turned back to the road from which he came, and walked up the path. He hadn't got more than a few yards before he stopped, turning around to look back at Kynlo. "Remember, Blacksmith, your Dutchy and your Kingdom require you say nothing of this encounter." Kynlo understood that speaking about this event to anybody could put the citizens of his county, dutchy and kingdom in potential danger, he nodded and replied, "Yes, Sir. Of course."
Turning back to the road, Varuian continued on his journey out of town.
Was this the last Kynlo would hear of this? Somehow, it is unlikely, for those who find themselves involved in affairs that do not concern them usually do not find themselves easily removed.
No trees were harmed during the creation of this message. Millions of electrons, however, were terribly inconvenienced
"Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try!" - Dr. Seuss
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