Fantasy A Divided Kingdom [Open]

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

Caspian hurtled over a log gracefully, landing hard but continuing his pursuit. By the gods this girl was fast! Ducking under a low hanging branch and skidding a bit as he rounded a curve, Caspian slowly began to gain ground on the young girl. He tried to call out, but nothing he said would slow her. Shouldering through a hedge-like structure, Caspian surged forward; the girl's small frame only a few yards ahead. Just as he felt as though he might catch up, and perhaps see where they were actually running too, the girl darted to the side, and a figure jumped directly in front of his path, sword drawn.

He only had seconds to react. Even if this woman, for it was a woman who had landed in front of him, not been pointing a blade at him, Caspian would have still done everything he could to dive out of the way. At this moment he was actually glad that the terrain had stopped him from going his full speed, and with a great heave of effort he turned his body slightly and skidded to a halt, nearly sliding off his feet. He stumbled back, ripping his sword out of its scabbard and drawing up a defensive position. As he recovered, he was rewarded for his thoughtless compassion by watching the young con artist take the coins and run off, her mother apparently nowhere near here.

He scolded himself on his stupidity, and could almost hear his advisor yelling his ear off at his carelessness. However, as Caspian focused more on his situation he saw that it was Arya who stood in his path, sword drawn with a smirk on her face that said just what he was thinking: Gotcha. And she had. She almost certainly could have killed him, and her playful, if not taunting, grin was proof of that. She stared at him with an almost proud look as she flicked her gaze to his sword-arm and back. Great.

He stood up straighter, seeing her tense slightly. He knew the stance well- a fighting stance that any warrior or knight would know. Did she want a fight? His mind began to race; what did he know about her? She had a notoriety, and he was sure that he had read of several heists and events she had been a large and important part of. His advisor had been very clear that she was a dangerous person and could cause a lot of trouble if he crossed her. In fact...she was probably on the list of people her advisor feared the most, making him all the more tense. Still, if she thought she had complete surprise on him, it might make her lower her guard. If she wanted a fight, he would give it to her; but just long enough to make her regret her poor choice.

"I'm sure I have no idea who you are." He growled, "But some would consider this behavior an attack on the crown!" He gave a small salute- a sign that he was about to attack. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to warn an opponent of an oncoming attack, but he had been taught the value of honor and was not about to give it up. With combat honorably engaged, he circled slightly and began to approach. As he drew near he twitched slightly, then launched into an attack. He feinted slightly at her right leg, then gave a great swing toward her left shoulder. This fight would be over quickly.

MarieK

 

[MarieK]

Interacts with: Inheritance
Location: Forest

Arya

A single brow arched at the insinuation that she had committed treason when really she had gone to such lengths to do the exact opposite. From his prospective, she supposed it could very well be misconstrued.

She had little time to hash out the dilemma before his salute warned her of the impending attack. Perhaps, if he hadn't drawn his sword on a lady, she would have thought him to be of a chivalrous breed. But then again, she wasn't quite what he would call a lady. The ladies he was used to ruffled skirts and batted lashes, whereas she preferred to ruffle feathers and bat swords.

Arya didn't move, didn't breathe, as he circled her. Every sense heightened at his increasing nearness, taunting the excitement thrumming in her adrenaline-soaked veins, but outwardly, she was poised and unphased.

His attack was swift, but instead of committed to the course he started with, his sword deviated from her right leg to her left shoulder. Instead of turning her blade up to counter his, she allowd it to go down, as if she had fallen for his trick, but her left hand came around simultaneously, catching his weapon with one of the few daggers the guards had overlooked.

She had kept it beneath her shirt tucked against the small over back with a cloth that she had wound around her person. In her hurry, she cut the delicate skin. Arya made a mental note to have him billed for a new shirt should the shirt stain.

Their blades clashed in midair, capturing the fleeting traces of sun against the silver.

Although she knew he probably detested the annoyance of a woman before him, she was having the most fun she had had in some time. But the charade needed to come to an end sooner than later lest one of them accidentally-or purposely- injured the other.

Swinging her sword up, she caught his between it and the dagger, but instead of angling it as if in attempt to disarm him, she tipped her chin back and brought the tip of his sword to her elongated neck. She dropped her weapons, letting them fall in the leaves at her feet.

There was no smirk this time when she met his gaze. Her eyes were narrowed and jaw, tensed.

"I'm not trying to attack the crown, I'm trying to save the kingdom." Arya half expected him to guffaw at her words, so she paused before continuing. "There are things about the Guard that aren't adding up and I need your help to figure it out."

There was the chance that he didn't know anything that could help her, but he had access to more of the kingdom's records than she possibly ever could, and most of all, he had the influence necessary to ask questions from the right people- people who'd laughed at her when she had tried.

"What will happen to the Guard when the kingdom splits and we're forced to fight against the ones we've vowed to protect," she asked, pleading. "We'll crumble and then the kingdom will be divided and we'll be vulnerable to foreign enemies. Your family has caused this rift and I only want to help stitch it back up before it festers and becomes infected beyond anything we can cure."

Her eyes searched his own, trying to decipher his thoughts and imploring him to see the reason behind her actions.​

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

The closer his blade got to hitting his mark, the more sure he was about to kill this woman in front of him. He hadn't expected it to fully land, he knew of her swiftness and expected her sword to catch his. What he had counted on was that his superior strength and larger weapon would send a nice shockwave through her arm as she blocked it and maybe send her tumbling to the ground. Instead, she sent a little shockwave of her own by revealing a hidden dagger and catching his sword. The rest happened before he could comprehend it. He saw his blade twirl a bit, he saw it pinched between her two blades, and suddenly it was at her neck, her weapons at her feet.

A less experienced warrior might have thought that she had given up because she knew it was a futile fight. A less experienced scholar might have thought she had given up because Caspian's reputation preceded him. But while Caspian was no great scholar (or even some grandmaster swordsman), he was wise enough to know that he had not won that fight. Every bit of that fight was controlled by Arya, from the moment their blades impacted to the situation they were in now. Perfect control, not a hair out of place. He was stunned.

"...Your family has caused this rift and I only want to help stitch it back up before it festers and becomes infected beyond anything we can cure."

Caspian was jolted out of his retrieve as she finished speaking, only vaguely aware of what was going on. As thoughts and words caught up with him, he recoiled back, not knowing how to feel.

"D-do you know how dangerous that was?!" He sputtered, uncharacteristically losing his cool, "Had I been a less experienced swordsman I would have sliced your head clean off! How often do you recklessly throw..." He trailed off. He noticed blood on the ground, coating the outer rim of one of the daggers. It wasn't his blood, as he hadn't been cut. That only left one person.

"You're hurt." He said dumbly, starting to process what had happened. He had attacked a lady in the woods. Not just a lady, a dangerous operative that clearly could have bested him in a fight...and he attacked without thinking! The mental berating from his advisor was so loud in his head he was almost surprised Arya couldn't hear it herself. Realizing he was staring, he shook his head and sheathed his weapon. How foolish. How rash. Is this what a King would be doing, attacking dangerous women (or any woman!) in the forest? If she wanted to she could have killed him and gone on her merry way.

"And...I owe you an apology." He consented, bowing. "I was foolish and rash to fight you. What do you need help with? I'm at your service."

MarieK

 

[Night Write]

Location: Fall Festival
Interactions: Arya ( MarieK ), Yvette ( FireMaiden ), and Prince Renald ‘Archie the Thief’ ( Office Worker Craig )
Mentions: Ivanoff ( americanCaeser )

ROAWN

“Are you ready to find some handsome farmers or pretty maidens to dance with?"

Roawn was thankful that he could feel his blush receding, and no one noticed until the combination of, ‘maidens to dance’ Arya’s faltering octave, her eyes darting to him, and then scanning his cheekbones. This was a noteworthy combination. A meaningful combination.

He knew Arya enough to be able to tell that she was forlorn, torn even? His mind drew back to their moment on the floor when he had yanked her on top of him. That had been a harmless accident. He remembered how she felt pressed against his chest; she was so light. Then that the look she had given him; it had been so fleeting before she jerked away. Currently, in the here and now, Arya’s face dipped. It was inevitable that Roawn started to piece together why she was avoiding him… He now shared what he sensed was a forlorn emotion.

He hoped he was wrong and came back to the present. Maybe he was thinking too much on it and making connections where there shouldn’t be any made. They were just friends. Right…? Definitely. He was too in his head and looking for hidden meanings where there was none… but then why couldn’t he shake this vague sadness that wouldn’t go away?

Arya looped her arm through Yvette’s and led her through the festival. “Let’s go find you some fun, Princess.” She stated, seemingly much to Yvette’s delight, her giggles attested. Roawn followed slightly behind them, falling into step with their pace.

He returned Yvette’s smile softly when she looked over at him, encouraging him to get swept into letting go during the celebration. But right now, Roawn couldn’t let go. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too much of a stick in the mud.

There was a commotion and Roawn looked over to see none other than Ivanoff at some kind of table, downing mead, two men yanking and putting all their weight onto one of his arms, a circle around them. He tried to catch Ivan’s eye to give him a modest wave. But a somewhat short man wearing a long dark cloak and a patch over his eye approached them… And by them, the questionable man approached Princess Yvette. Oh hell no. Roawn came closer to stand tightly to Yvette’s side, but not so close that his movements would be restricted. He may not have his sword right now, but he did have highly capable fists.

The sketchy man asked Yvette to dance. Roawn had half a mind of grabbing the man and forking him over to one of the guards and just depositing him there. Let them figure out what to do with one another… But instead, Arya took hold of the situation.

She seemed to spout something off quickly and before he knew it, Arya had taken his and Yvette’s hand and smooshed them together before literally disappearing. Instinctively, he took Yvette’s hand and looked down at her.

Well… now he couldn’t just grab the questionable man and take him someplace and leave Yvette… He couldn’t tell Yvette what to do… he’s mute…

… if he needed to pee there was no one there to cover for him. Would it be rude to just drag Yvette with him wherever? Yes. Yes, it would.

Roawn regarded Yvette with a sense of defeat, but firming his hold of her tiny hand. The kind of tiny that 5’4 women have. He looked up at the strange suspicions man, narrowing his eyes at him before leading Yvette to the group of dancers. They would be lost in the crowd ideally as he took her deep with him. Keeping her hand in his, moving slow enough so that Yvette could stay tight against him. It wouldn’t do to have her swept up and away. Once in the crowd, he turned to Yvette. He figured they wouldn’t be here long, just long enough to get the sketchy eyepatch man disinterested.

Only. Now what? He looked down at the Princess who looked humanized in her commoner clothing. It was still unmistakable that she had thick long hair, pale, well-tended to skin, and rich brown eyes. This girl was tiny. He thought Arya was small? He could pick Yvette up and cart her around like a backpack.

He was staring.

And he couldn’t speak to her.

He felt stuck, waiting for some kind of indication from the Princess.

 

[Heda]

{Location: Festival -> Forest }
{Interactions: -- }
{Mentions: Prince Caspian Inheritance , Arya MarieK , Prince Damian Night Write }

Muffled footfalls descended on the rooftops, the only sign someone was up there. Most wouldn't have dared the speed or leaps Nari took to keep up with her mark but up there she felt most comfortable. Occasionally, the Guardian would dip from view, rounding a corner or getting lost in a small group of common folk but the spy was certain of the general direction she was taking. Sure enough, the Guardian would pop back into view.

The last thing Nari expected was to be led into the woods surrounding the city proper. She half expected the Guardian to duck into a dark alley or one of the more run down and abandoned buildings on the outskirts. She had been prepared for that. Now the spy was forced to make a quick descent, without being noticed, and continue to follow on ground level. Here Nari felt less comfortable. It wouldn't be so bad if she could take to the tree branches and trail from above. That was too dangerous, too reckless. She needed to remain close.

Nari kept a healthy distance, the form of the Guardian barely within view. Where was she being led and what would she find when they arrived at their destination? The forest was quiet. Little wind to disturb the shaded canopy overhead, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.

Eventually they came to a stop, deep within the treeline and Nari found a wide trunk to duck behind, crouching low. Amber eyes watched the Guardian climb. Up, up, up. Until they settled on a branch and waited. Instinctively, the spy ran her fingers over the darts hooked to her left forearm. One of these would put any regular person into a sudden sleep but perhaps not a Guardian. Nari had never raised a weapon against them and hoped she never would. Perhaps it would take two or three...

There was a crashing sound. Nari's head whipped to the left at the sound of heavy footfalls, leaves crunching and twigs snapping. It sounded like a bear charging. The spy pressed her back to the trunk, eyes scanning the trees around her. A small child came running with none other than Prince Caspian himself not far behind. Brows rose, amber eyes widening and the corner of Nari's lips quivered, a smirk breaking under the cloth wrapped across her face.

Her instincts to follow had been right. Oh, Prince Damian was going to love this. A secret meeting between a Guardian and the Golden Prince. The scene unfolded before her. At first, it seemed the Guardian was lying in ambush but after a few blows, the weapons were dropped and conversation ensued. Nari dared not move closer and risk being discovered, though she could barely catch the words shared between the two. Her current position would have to be enough. They weren't careful about the pitch of their voices, at least. They probably weren't expecting to be watched.

 

[MarieK]

Interacts with: Inheritance and Heda (Unknowingly)
Location: Forest

Arya

Chin jutted and green eyes braving the length of the blade to hold Caspian's stare, Arya waited for the verdict, testing the shallow ice between them with the narrowing of her eyes and waiting to plunge into waters beneath it.

In truth, she had never expected him to harm her, but she feared his anger would tempt him to do just that. However, he appeared surprised by her actions and appalled by his own. Reeling back, he took his sword with him and she exhaled out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. With the absence of his weapon came the drop of her chin, but it maintained enough air beneath it that suggested a sense of rebellion yet resided within her. It wasn't toward him or anyone in particular, it was simply part of who she was- or what she had been molded into.

Her brow burrowed at his words. The idea that he would have been worried about her safety was astonishing and a bit terrifying. No one worried about her. She was a guardian, but nothing outside of the Guard. Her death would have been blinked at, but not mourned. Most would have felt fear knocking on death's door, but Arya hadn't stopped to consider the consequences. The kingdom needed help and it was her job to do anything to protect it. It was as simple as that.

There was no shock or pain in her expression as she traced the direction of his gaze to the dagger and the blood. If anything, she looked confused.

"It's-"

She was about to reassure him her injuries were nothing to worry about, when he offered up an apology.

Arya could hardly believe her ears. She had basically kidnapped him and threatened his life and he was apologizing to her.

The Prince bent at the waist, but she was quick to step forward and press a hand against his shoulder, propelling him back into an upright position with a strength that belied her small figure.

"Please promise me you'll never bow to me again," she said as she waved aside his apology, still trying to wrap her mind around what he had said. Caspian was willing to help her. Hope swelled within her chest.

Remembering herself, she removed her hand from him and swallowed. Taking a step back, she folded her arms across her chest and simply stared at him for a moment in complete disbelief. She shook her head.

"It is I who should apologize. I'm not very good at all of this, but I needed to speak to you alone and, while the plan was not great in hindsight, it was the only thing I could come up with in the moment."

She bit her lip, realizing that she was rambling instead of explaining.

"The Guard was not created with the dilemma that our kingdom is facing now, in mind. If we are forced to fight the same people we are bound to protect, I fear the magic will fail and the Guard with it. I don't have access to the information you do. If there are any books or records you know about-"

Arya shook her head once more, her expression anguished. What pieces did one choose to stack when some of those same pieces would be sacrificed in the inevitable fall of the stack?

Would he even believe her? And what would happen if he did?

But one needed to give trust in order to earn it. She took a breath, steeling herself.

"Your Royal Highness, I have reason to believe that the Guard has lied to the guardians and that the stone wasn't destroyed in the war as we've been led to believe." The air weighed heavily with the truth, but her chest no longer did. She had been carrying the information for weeks after stumbling upon a journel while in Arthur's office, from one of the elders from the tribe who had surrendered the stone. There was more than what she was willing to say at that moment, but she needed to know he could be trusted first.​

 

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Outside the Front Gates
Interaction:
Night Write (Rowan) Office Worker Craig (Renald)
Mentioned:
Inheritance (Caspian) MarieK (Ayra)
​

While the guardians shared their somewhat tense moment, Yvette's eyes once again began to dart around the festival. There were animals on display for both letting and sale, various stalls of local goods and foods. The music that filled the air was most certainly for dancing, and Yvette was more than ready to have some fun. The past month had been stressful for more reasons than one, and the break would be good for everyone. She hoped that Caspian and Renald would take some time to enjoy themselves and find some time to sneak away. And no sooner than the princess thought that, she spotted her older brother. A smile graced her features when she spotted Caspian, wanting to call out to him. But before she could decide if that was a good idea or not, someone spoke to her.

The princess turned, and was met by a man in a cloak and eye patch. He looked... familiar, but his appearance was obscured just enough that she couldn't exactly place him. But the most important part was he asked her to dance. Yvette smiled a little, glancing up to Rowan and Ayra, unsure on what to do. Would they let her? But it wasn't just her being asked to dance, it was Rowan too. But before she could say anything, Ayra took her hand and put it into Rowan's. On instinct, her hand closed, Yvette stepping a little closer to Rowan. "Sorry, I'm sure you'll find someone else to dance with," She told the strange man.

No sooner than she said that, Yvette was whisked away by Rowan. Well, not really whisked, but he seemed to know something she didn't and began to lead her through the crowd of people walking and then some dancers. She knew he was moving slower for her sake, which Yvette found oddly sweet. The guardians were always nice to her, even if she didn't know all of them as personally as she knew some. When they came to a stop in the middle of the crowd, Yvette readjusted the grip she had on his hand without letting go. Ayra had wandered off, somewhere, and she knew that Rowan had a job to do. So why make it harder on him?

When they had been standing there for a few long moments, Yvette looked up to him, only to see that he was staring at her. She looked away, her cheeks turning with just a hint of pink. She was wondering what he had planned when..."Oh! Right you're mute!" She spoke quietly. Yvette had... honestly forgotten. There were plenty of people who just didn't like to talk, so it was easy to forget that Rowan actually couldn't. After clearing her throat, she looked up at him. "There's a lot of things we can do while we're here. I'll number them!" She smiled, holding up her free hand. "So we can dance, find something to eat, go pet the animals, play some games, or just walk around and explore," Yvette told him. As she spoke, with each activity she suggested, Yvette would stick up a finger. Dancing was 1, something to eat was 2, so on and so forth. That way, Rowan could actually answer.

"I'd really like to dance, but I know it's your job to keep an eye on me, so if you don't want to there's lots of other options," Yvette smiled up at him. "You deserve to have some fun too."

 

[Night Write]

Location: Fall Festival: Middle of Dance Area
Interactions: Yvette ( FireMaiden )
Mentions: Arya ( MarieK )


ROAWN


Yvette broke their awkward silence. “Oh! Right you’re mute!” Roawn gave a slow nod. He’d think he’d get used to that being the first thing people said about him. But it was hard to first and foremost be regarded by your peculiarity. He fixed his expression into stoicism however, hoping that glimmer of his thoughts didn’t show through. He was a military man after all. Trained by a skillful knight. Though, he hadn’t been born into it.

He felt Yvette readjust her grip, so he relaxed his just enough so that she could slide her hand easier. Roawn had zero intentions of physically letting her go in a crowd. He was aware of how what seemed like one single body blocking the view turned out to actually be a very swift and disappearing abduction.

That wasn’t going to happen. They were going to be touching and close. He’d let her go when they left to a much thinner part of the crowd.

Yvette cleared her throat. Arya should’ve stayed. Roawn shouldn’t be here like this with the Princess. This was just awful. He lamented.

“There’s a lot of things we can do…” Yvette began numbering them off. It wasn’t lost on Roawn that this was supposed to be the Princess’ time and here it was, being spun to be about him. “…or just walk around and explore,” She finished, holding up each finger individually, seemingly to help their communication. He refrained from answering, choosing instead to look into Yvette’s face and eyes. He wanted to see for himself what she wanted to do. This was supposed to be her day and he was ruining it.

“I’d really like to dance…” A smile thrown his way. “…You deserve to have some fun, too.”

He disagreed. He wasn’t here for fun. And neither was it about him.

But at least now he knew what the Princess wanted, and he happened to know how to dance. Sort of. He only knew swing dancing. His formal dancing was paltry at best...

This was definitely not the place for formal dancing… So, Roawn took Yvette’s other hand, changing their grip with the hands that never lost contact. He was taking them into position. He wasn’t sure if Yvette knew swing, it was a pretty low form of dance practiced by peasants and serfs. But if she was up for it, he knew how to lead, control the spins, brace, and catch. All she’d have to do was follow the momentum he provided.


[Video: Starts at 0.54 ends at 4.00. Notable moves::: 0.58 1.19 1.38 1.49 2.36 2.41 2.50 3.00 3.41 ]

 

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Autumn Festival
Interaction:
Night Write (Rowan)
Mentioned:
N/A
​

Yvette had caught the slightly hurt look on Rowan's face. She hadn't meant anything by what she said, really the princess had forgotten and blurted that out before she could stop herself. Honestly, she was now worried she had hurt Rowan. Being different was hard, Yvette knew. She gently squeezed his hand, hoping that would make him feel a little better. Especially when he didn't answer. Yvette frowned a little, looking away from Rowan breifly. Maybe he was mad at her? She wouldn't blame him, Yvette had probably made him uncomfortable. She could apologize somehow, maybe bring home one of the tarts she could be making later with the head maid. That sounded like plane.

After a few seconds, Yvette looked back up at him with a smile. She was about to say something, most likely to ask what he wanted to do again when he took her other hand. For a few moments, her face blanked as she wondered what was going on before it clicked. Yvette couldn't help but giggle, smiling brightly. "We're going to dance?!" She asked excitedly, bouncing a little in place for a moment or two. Rowan wouldn't need to worry about her not knowing what to do. Her dance teacher when she was younger would always take breaks from the formal stuff to teach her other things. Swing was only taught to her once she was a bit older and toward the end of her lessons, but she knew what to do. Rowan had to lead, and she would follow of course.

The music that was playing was perfect, and they were definitely not going to be the only pair doing a lively dance. And Yvette was absolutely thrilled, she couldn't keep herself from smiling up at him. "Thank you Rowan! Oh this is gonna be so much fun!"

 

[Office Worker Craig]

Name: Prince Renald
Location: Autumn Festival
Interactions: n/a
Mentions: Night Write FireMaiden Inheritance Heda

Before the small girl could answer Archie's request, the tall girl went between them and put the bulky man's hand together with the small girl's hand, saying "They already have plans to dance with each other. and I have somewhere to be." before leaving them.

The bulky man then drags the small girl away as the girl encourages Archie to find another dance partner.

Archie waved them goodbye with a welcoming smile, but as soon as they were lost from his sight, he sighed and kicked the floor.

"Nice going little man," Jean said as she slapped the back of his head. "You let them get away, should have just knocked them out."

"It's fine." He reassured. "Besides, they looked poor anyway, probably won't worth the trouble robbing them.

"Yeah...but that big guy...I gotta admit I would have enjoyed sparring with him..."

Archie just rolled his eyes over Jean's lustful comments, she may be a brute but there was this charm that made Archie have such a good relationship with her. "Come on, let's get a drink."

...

Upon entering the Sunken Ship Tavern, noises filled Archie's ears. It was a place of drunkards, criminals, and lustful monsters to hang out and relax. Archie being a criminal himself, it was the perfect place for him to settle down and relax.

They reached the tavern bar, ordering themselves a drink. Archie ordered a fancy and light drink that doesn't hold much of a punch but does taste exquisite. Meanwhile, Jean ordered a strong drink that by simply smelling it made Archie feel drunk.

He listened closely to the people around him. Archie wasn't just a persona used to have a good time and commit crime, it was also a persona Renald uses to go undercover and spy on his citizens. Yes, Nari may be reliable as a spy, but she wasn't loyal solely to him. Who knows if one of his siblings bribed her to keep vital information from him. Of course, it was all just speculation but it was best to do spy work by himself and only resort to her when absolutely necessary.

"Caspian sure made a grand entrance..."

"What's with the armor, was Caspian trying to show how powerful he is or something?"

"Caspian's so handsome and dreamy, I bet he's really hung...."

"I would love to wipe that shit-eating grin from Caspian's face..."

"Caspian would make a great king, people already respect him and..."

"I feel that Caspian is the only prince that's actually taking initiative, with the kingdom under his rule, we will surely prosper..."

"Caspian sure is..."

"Does Caspian..."

"Caspian..."

Caspian, Caspian, Caspian. That's all they ever talk about since he little parade into the festival. Anytime he does something, it quickly because a great gossip and makes him more popular. Meanwhile, Renald may find a cure for diseases next week and yet they'll complain that he took so long. It's always been this way, always Caspian they talk about. Look how great his, look how skilled he is, look how handsome he is, look how infinitely better his than is stupid fucking brother that can't walk with passing out, he may as well ace died of childbirth because oh Caspian's such a fucking gift from God.

Renald took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He wasn't Renald at the moment, he was Archie, and Archie would have cared less about people talking about Caspian. Now...Archie drank a shot of his glass-

"Yeah, Caspian just immediately when into action when that little girl approached him for help." A patron sitting next to him said." He's so kind and brave, he didn't even hesitate for a second. He must be busy saving that little girl's mother because he hasn't returned yet. Oh, he would make a perfect-"

Renald grabbed Jean's bottle from her hand and smashed it over the talking patron, causing him pass out. All attention when towards Renald as the patron dropped to the floor.

"...oops, sorry about that. It was an accident-"

"BAR BRAWL!"

Upon Jean's declaration, the bar was quickly sent into chaos as everyone started grabbing each other and punching one another. It was havoc incarnated within the bar, as the violent rage everyone had was let out into a tavern blood bath. The only one who wasn't participating was Archie and the tavern owner who quickly grabbed the most expensive bottles and hid within the basement.

So...Caspian was away to play hero...

Renald stood from his stool and left the tavern before the guards arrive. If Caspian's appearance caused such a fuzz, perhaps he should try it also.

...

Renald returned to the festival, however not as Archie but as himself...sorta.

People were quick to notice and immediately eyes were on him, some even bowed, not as many as Caspian's of course. However, he encouraged people to not bow, reassuring them he was one of them and such he should be treated as such.

He went around mingling with the locals, continuing to encourage them to treat him as one of them. When he saw people who looked to not be satisfied with his presence, he approached them and discussed with them about politics. He didn't care if they agreed to his ideals or not, they weren't officials, he wanted to make sure he was seen as a person they can talk to and not just an unreachable royal who made decisions without acknowledging them. He would often make small talks with the talkative citizens, making jokes and discussing opinions regarding simple things like the books they may have read. Girls who showed interest in him he would always approach, no matter what they look like or how old. Often he may even invite them into little 'dates' which involve dancing, eating, or walking together. He wanted to make sure they felt cared for by him, complimenting them on their looks and buying them gifts. Of course, he made sure to show he didn't love them, otherwise it may cause a whole lot of drama.

During one of his 'dates', he saw people from the Sunken Ship Tavern being dragged out by guards, one of them being Jean. From the looks of it, Jean was getting arrested. I mean, I won't say you didn't deserve for calling me a pansy cry baby.

All these actions were thanks to...The Gentle Prince persona.

The Gentle Prince persona allowed him to be sociable and appear as caring and welcoming. It pushed him to socialize effectively, as he wasn't very talkative by himself. In a way, he was lying to his people. He wasn't this talkative attentive prince that goes out of his way to make conversation, he was quiet and worked better when far away from people. But when his competition was Caspian, who was worshipped like it was destined to be, he needed to play dirty. Really dirty.

"I fear Caspian might be in over his head, he means well but he isn't what I would say...competent."

"Caspian is my brother and I would never go against him...but I fear that his ideas for this kingdom may cause more harm than good."

"Oh, he is tiny down there. I mean, there's a reason he wears such a big flashy armor."

"All the pressure has been weighing heavily on Caspian, he may seem okay but I promise that he's hiding the pain. But don't worry, I'll always be here for him."

"The officials won't even listen to him, I mean if he can't handle them, I don't know if he'll be able to handle the whole kingdom."

"The death of our father has affected us all, it especially affected Caspian. I worry that his grief is preventing him from making rational choices."

"Yeah, Caspian is..."

"No, Caspian..."

"Caspian..."

 

[Night Write]

Location: Fall Festival
Interactions: Yvette ( FireMaiden )
Mentions: Arya ( MarieK ), Louqlyn ( TheRidingWitch ), advisor

ROAWN


The music was loud, the day had been long… at least from Roawn’s perspective… He had helped Arya train, was a guinea pig for Louqlyn, apparently saw an advisor, spent a few hours in the medic bay, found Yvette and Arya, and was now here.

At the festival, Yvette following along with the one dance he knew by heart. The crowd around them spread just enough to let Roawn swing and flip Yvette around. It was dangerous dancing, yes, but Roawn was strong and knew what he was doing. It also helped that Yvetter was short, small, and light. Pockets around them also danced similarly or in various ways that were adaptations. Afterall, most of the attendees were low born and the music was celebratory.

So, Roawn took Yvette’s hand and swung her, stepped with her, and guided her. It became self-evident that the Princess was either an extremely fast study or someone had taught her this unrefined form of dance. He wasn’t complaining, although he didn't know that royal families would bother with something considered beneath them.

Thankfully, the air started to cool down. Roawn was sweating. He had his informal leather gear on, but thankfully no tunic. If it hadn’t been for his over arching duty to ensure Yvette’s safety, he would’ve taken his leathers off and paid the inn to secure them. But alas, he was doomed. His cheeks and neck were flushed, less from the effort of throwing the light Yvette around, and more from the fact his leathers kept his body heat in.

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

As she pushed him from his bow, he gave her another lookover. At first, he had seen an assassin, or perhaps a warrior, leap from the trees. He had seen an adversary. He had seen Arya, Guardian, and apparent danger to his throne and his well being...according to his advisor. But as he looked at her now, all adrenaline and heat-of-the-moment left him, and he saw her a bit more clearly. In her eyes he saw fire, he saw power, he saw...fear? Hope? Such emotions did not match the description given to him by his advisor. He had learned she was a warrior, a fighter, and would be no end of trouble should you cross her; but such a description compared to the woman in front of him would have been like describing an ocean after seeing a pond. Her slightly awkward maneuvers, her own surprise at his actions, and her general mannerisms had shown Caspian that, while she could be extremely dangerous, she was human. And she was...scared.

Her news hit him like an ox. The gem wasn't destroyed? He was no expert, but his readings had led him to believe what all scholars had come to accept as truth: The gem was gone. It was in every book he had ever read, every history lesson he had ever received, every painting or song he had ever seen or heard. There were no second guesses or questions about this at all; it wasn't a theory, it was fact. No scientist, doctor, or scholar worth their salt would even suggest such a ridiculous theory...so why did he believe her? His initial reaction was to start laughing, assuming she was jesting, but in her eyes he saw a strange combination of hope and severity, and he knew her to be telling the truth.

"You...you're serious? You think that the Guard..." He paused, not knowing what to say. It was a shock, and his normally composed demeanor was unable to hide his surprise. "But...why? Why would they lie about this?" He asked, already feeling like he knew the answer. A gust of wind swirled around them, chilling the pleasant autumn air. Despite himself, Caspian shivered.

Did he trust her too quickly? Why would she lie about this? He would normally dismiss her as cracked, but he had dueled her in close quarters, even if only for a moment. As all warriors know, when two people fight in close quarters they see into each other's souls. Almost always, for at least a moment, they have a bond stronger than any bond on earth. When he looked into her eyes as their swords clashed, he saw nothing but calm, collected, and very controlled sanity.

She was not lying, or if she was she was the best liar he had ever seen. The gem wasn't destroyed...and the Guard was lying to them all.

MarieK Heda

Brom Beararm​

The roar of the tavern filled Brom's ears as he slammed down his sixth mug of ale and slamming the man's arm down on the table. Another free drink. There was an ongoing bet in the Cracked Glass, the local inn, that anyone who could beat Brom in an arm wrestling match while he slugged down two pitchers of ale would win free drinks for a month. So far no one had risen to the challenge. Brom had already beaten two other challenges tonight, and was starting to get a little more buzzed than he would have liked. Standing up with his fist in the air, Brom waved with a childlike smile only a nice buzz can create. To the dismay of his audience, he told them he had to leave, and strolled out of the inn.

The chill of the ending autumn would soon befall the night air, but with the ale warming him from within he didn't mind much. It wasn't that cold anyway. With a slight stumble he set fourth for the Harvest Festival. He had already been around it once, he was able to enjoy the good conversation and even better carnival food as he went around mingling and laughing. He saw two strongmen who challenged him to an arm wrestling match, but not wanting to show them up on stage (he didn't need to prove he was stronger than anyone, and there was no real glory in beating two men that were just trying to enjoy their show at the festival) he politely declined and laughed as they called threw friendly jeers for his cowardice. In reality they had only asked to appear strong in front of the crowd, and Brom was happy to let them keep up the show. There was a difference between beating some drunkards in a bar full of people who enjoyed such a thing and beating some good hearted fellows who were trying to make people happy.

The only time his smile had faded during his time at the festival was when the princes walked through...all of them. Caspian was the most show-boating, wearing his gold armor and playing the part of the future king. Brom had to admit-he looked like a King-but looking like a king and being a king were two very different things. Brom watched him put on his show, then left him to enjoy the rest of the festival. He didn't care about Caspian's pony show.

But as he went through the festival, he found another prince using his own tactics to win over the people, and he found he wasn't sure which he disliked more: Caspian's outright in-your-face attempt at being regal, or the way Prince Renald went around trying to sow seeds of discord. Both of them were obnoxious, but at least Caspian wore his attempts on his sleeve with some honor, not this back alley whispering contest. Didn't Renald know that he was just helping Caspian's cause? That was all he could talk about! Now all the people would think of Caspian when they talked about Renald! In his year in the Guard, he had gotten a decent view of three of the four members of royalty, and he still wasn't sure how much he liked any of them. The only one he had not learned much about was the princess, but he was sure he would meet her soon enough.

Brom trudged back into the festival, starting to get his buzz under control. Oh politics, why did they have to be so complex? Can't the people just decide who the best leader was? Who did the most for the country? Who was in it for power, and who was in it for glory? It was all propaganda, none of it helping. What mattered who was there to play the role of a King, and who was there to be a King.

 

[americanCaeser]

Interacts with: Inheritance (Brom Beararm)
Location: Harvest Festival

"There you are."

The voice behind Brom was clear and direct. Turning around, he would have seen the semi-familiar sight of the long coated, straw hat wearing form of Ivanoff. The elder guardian held an unopened bottle of ale in one hand while his other rested in his pocket. Since he had joined nearly a year ago he had never actually met the man, only glimpses the few times they were in the city together. This is probably their first conversation.

"I've been dragging my feet about meeting you face to face. Not sure if I simply didn't have the time, or if I wanted to live in ignorant bliss a little longer."

Ivanoff gently tossed the glass bottle to the side, which thud into the grass before rolling away. Sliv then reached up and took his hat off as he looked at Brom. "They say you came from a tribe descended from giants, and that you earned that fancy last name, 'Bear-Arm', from wrestling a beast of that name into the ground. Pretty strong, ain't ya?" Ivanoff threw the hat onto the ground as well, and used a hand to help crack his neck. "I don't even need to ask if that's true do I? I can tell just by looking at you you're one tough bastard so I wanted to let you know..."

Immediately, the atmosphere changed around between the two. He already felt like the elder guardian was sizing him up, but his gaze went completely predatory. What's more, the energy he was giving off was something different. Bloodlust? No, he wasn't out to destroy or kill Brom. Danger? No, his body wasn't feeling the fight or flight of some great disaster. Then it clicked. The energy Ivanoff was something only people who have fought men like Brom himself have felt, something arguably worse than the previous two feelings; the sheer overwhelming aura of an incredibly strong fighter.

Sliv held up his fists in a mock guard and a grin. "I wanna test that out for myself."

 

[MarieK]

Interacts with: Heda and Inheritance
Mentions: Night Write
Location: Forest

Arya

The unnerving sense that someone was watching her climbed up her spine and nestled between the vertebrae of her spine, refusing to budge even after an assessing glance around failed to uncover any other soul amongst the trees. Blame it on the magic or on instinct, Arya was inclined to heed the warning despite lacking the evidence to back it. Idly, the woman's eyes dropped to the weapons at her feet. She gathered the fallen sword and dagger, sheathing them and wincing when she returned the dagger to the binding beneath her shirt. Having forgotten the wound she had suffered earlier, she had managed to cut the tender skin again, albeit barely. Her bond to the Guard accelerated the healing process, but the skin was still sore to the touch. Now, thanks to her blunder, it was probably bleeding again.

Caspian was reeling with the information she had provided him. Understandably, he had questions. But instead of answering, Arya inclined her chin, met his gaze, and arched a dark brow. The look was clear.

"Why do you think?" it asked, as if the answer was clear and did not need an audible response.

The stone held immeasurable power that could never be duplicated or manufactured. Having witnessed the devastation one king had wrought on the land, the elders may not have trusted man to keep the peace and saw it necessary to keep the stone around in case they needed to stop another tyrant, should they need to. But that explanation gave them the benefit of the doubt. What it didn't exactly explain was why Guard was lying about the stone's existence to its members. And Arya feared the possibility that they didn't destroy the stone because they wanted to hoard the power for themselves.

The breeze tortured the leaves, pulling them out from their vibrant grave and swirling them in the air in a kaleidoscope of yellows and reds, denying them rest. At times, she felt like the leaves, ever being tossed and positioned by fate, helpless of the direction which she landed. Arya hadn't wanted to be preoccupied with matters of the kingdom and the Guard's betrayal that day. What she wanted was to return to the festival and dance her fears of Roawn away. Instead, she here. Trying to persuade a man who clearly harbored distrust toward her, that the very thing he depended on to protect him and his kingdom, was shrouded in mystery and deceit.

Arya's upturned lips balanced a sarcastic remark on their mischievous slant, but she pursed them, knowing that humor may not be received well at the moment. Instead, she tucked the hair misplaced by the gust of wind back behind her ears and looked pointedly behind him.

"You should return to the festival, Your Royal Highness," Arya said. Her gaze shifted back to him, green eyes meeting his with subdued determination and something else that refused to be known. "I'll find you within the next few days. Until then, I implore you to try to find any information on the Guard and its past."

She couldn't tell him her gut feeling of being watched, but she prayed he'd listen and choose to resume their conversation at a later date when they did not have to worry about wandering festival goers stumbling upon them.

Arya sidled the makeshift path he had made with his legs through the shrubbery when chasing Penelope, and waited for him to start back toward the festival before falling into step beside him.

"I'll escort you back to ensure that no other talented, breathtaking woman is tempted to entangle you within her web of cunningly spun trickery." Arya flashed him a smile so he'd know she was merely joking and attempting to lighten the mood.

And to throw off whoever, if anyone, was listening in on their conversation.

Arya maintained her smile, but if one ventured to scrutinize her, they'd notice the lightness of her steps as she muted her progress as much as possible in order to hear better, as well as the rigid breadth of her shoulders. Her conversation was relaxed, but her demeanor was as taut as a bow string.

"You're surrounded by enemies on all sides, Caspian," she said beneath her breath, just a fraction above the breeze. "But I'm not one of them. I just want peace for the kingdom and the least bloody path to finding it."​

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

He had to give it to her, she was good at chastising him without saying anything. She'd give his advisor a run for his money. But her look confirmed what he didn't want to believe, and his mind was sent racing with hundreds of possibilities. Could they find the gem? Would it help them, or the kingdom? Who else knew about this? His mind reeling, all thought of some pesky sibling rivalry left him. It didn't matter who took the throne if this secret was true, if that stone fell into the wrong hands all would be lost.

He nodded grimly, he understood. Her request for him to return to the festival made him raise an eyebrow, and with a small stretch he scanned around him. He saw nothing, but if she was worried he would trust her judgment for some reason. Why did he trust her so much already? Was it because she was a Guardian, or was there something else? Who knew. Either way he had a job to do, and he would get it done. Gritting his teeth he began to follow her back through the trail that he had made barreling through the woods. But as they began...was that a joke?

He gave her a double take as she cracked a small joke, a small smile blossoming over her face. Caspian noted that, when not getting ready to fight him, she had a rugged sort of beauty about her that he couldn't quite describe. He gave her a brilliant smile back.

"Ah yes! Poor Prince Caspian, always falling victim to these stunning women! Whatever would I do without you?" He felt the tension between the two ease a bit. Perhaps this wouldn't be as grim of a task as he-

"You're surrounded by enemies on all sides, Caspian..."

The tension returned, stronger than ever. He felt a small bead of sweat form under his hair. Black damn, the similarities between her and his advisor were extraordinary at this point. For a second he thought that this might have been a setup-his advisor testing him and getting ready to berate him.

"But I'm not one of them" It was uncanny how similar she was to him! The edge of her voice, the tenseness...He wondered if they knew each other. In an equally low whisper, he responded.

"Believe me, I'm well aware." His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes looking forward. "The Kingdom's well being is what I've always wanted, nothing will change that." There was an edge to his voice that even he couldn't understand. Enemies on all sides...

Perhaps, but his enemies chose to put themselves there; never had he engaged in a whisper campaign against any of his siblings. He would be the King because he was the best candidate. He would focus on the people, not his siblings. Unlike them, he was willing to put his bid for the crown on hold...for the glory of the kingdom.

MarieK Heda

Brom Beararm​

It took him a second to focus in on who he was seeing. The way the Elder Guardian looked with his hat and bottle Brom almost mistook him as some drunk commoner. But there was no mistaking the aura of power that always radiated off the Elder Guardian, and as he turned to face him he began to listen. He smirked gently as Slavinoff began to sing his praises, though as he continued Brom couldn't help but feel as though he was being made fun of. His smile vanished as he watched Slavinoff drop his hat and his bottle. Brom questioned this for a second (why waste perfectly good booze), then realized that the air had changed between the two of them.

The older man had transformed from a drunken commoner to something altogether different. There was a look in his eye that was a bit terrifying, something he had only seen once or twice. He knew of this man's power, obviously, and had been well aware that size wasn't everything. Brom towered over this man, though the aura of power was undoubtedly there. And then...

He wanted to fight? Here? At first Brom wanted to laugh, but as he looked as Slavinoff he realized he was very sane and very serious. If Bron had learned one thing over the course of his life, it was to never underestimate anyone. Even with his superior size, there was no telling what this man was capable of...that being said, a good brawl didn't happen every day, and Brom would never back down from a fight. With a grin he took a fighting stance, raising his own fists.

"Aye. If you want to find out where I got my name from, I'd be happy to show you."

He began to circle him, noting the expertise in Slavinoff's stance. This was no fight to the death, but he was sure the Elder Guardian was testing him. He was confident he could impress the man.

With a wild swing that would come from someone drinking, he launched a fist at the master's jaw. He knew well it wouldn't make contact, and after a few more clumsy swings (all of them missing their mark) he decided he was ready to fight. His jaw set, eyes hardened, and his seemingly barbaric fighting style switched up. He was still reliant on his strength, of course, but he now moved on the balls of his feet. He was lighter, quicker, sharper. He had observed a bit of the old master's fighting style, and with a hope that his clumsy behavior earlier would make Slavinoff write him off as some drunken fighter he aimed a powerful, controlled jab at the man's ribs.

If Brom was to win, he would win by playing to his advantages. His reach was longer, his muscles were bigger (or so he thought), and he was a giant compared to this man. He would avoid close combat as long as possible, and he had hoped his fake drunkness would disarm him just long enough to land a good hit. One good hit would be all he would need...hopefully.

americanCaeser

 

[MarieK]

Location: Forest/Festival
Interacts with: Inheritance

Arya

His sense of humor surprised her, but then most of their interaction had. Assuming he would have been upset with the misplaced joke, Arya hadn't expected the response he gave and her blunt stare told him as much.

The edge in his tone that carried the words that followed, smoothed the creases in his cheeks made by the brilliant smile he had flashed her. It was with a twinge of regret she watched it leave, but she was grateful he understood the magnitude of the current events. His brothers seemed to lack prospective. They wanted the kingdom to sway in their favor, but to what end? Blood was the only way to the throne for them, but their pride and ambition blinded them.

Curiosity chased the trajectory of her thoughts. It made her wonder what was Caspian's reason for wanting the throne?

"The Kingdom's well being is what I've always wanted, nothing will change that."

Nothing? Everyone had a breaking point. Like a stick, humans held the same propensity to snap beneath pressure. Once they snapped, there was no turning back and debris from their brokenness would fall on those around them- wounding those closest in proximity.

The royal family was no exception. Crowns never solved or alleviated disfunction in a family. At times, it was the very weight that snapped those it rested upon.

She expelled an impatient sigh. Arya detested her tendency to over-think things. Speculating and assuming did nothing to solve issues, it merely made her head hurt. She'd already decided to trust Caspian and there was no turning back now.

"You're not what I expected," admitted Arya, the honesty behind the words surprising even her. She sighed again. "Don't let me down, Prince."

The words came out different than intended. She had meant to say the kingdom, not her, but the statement had become jumbled somewhere between her mind and her tongue. But then, she was apart of the kingdom, however small and irrelevant she may be. Maybe the two were interchangeable?

Regardless, she kept her gaze fixated ahead and fell silent.

In the distance, she could hear the cheers from the festival. Someone must have won a tournament. The crunch of leaves and crashing through shrubbery diverted Arya's attention from the the celebratory shouts. She rested a hand on the hilt of her weapon and watched as the trees spat out a small figure- a very familiar, small figure.

"Penelope?" Arya was about to ask why the girl was back in the forest, but the girl's panicked expression was enough of an explanation. Something terrible had happened. Without pausing to give the girl a chance to explain, Arya bounded down the path as fast as the overgrowth and thorns would permit.

~

Leah

The festival had gathered a sizable crowd already, but when Leah had arrived countless more were flooding into the area. People were dancing, shopping, singing, and even sparring. For the first time in the last few months, the kingdom seemed to have forgotten that it was at odds with itself and a deceptive calm had fallen on the people. The amnesia was impermanent, but the fleeting peace was a welcoming sight to behold.

A shoulder bumped into her, making her wobble. The affects of the alcohol still tainted her mind, but she was sober enough to think and walk a straight line if left to her own devices.

She smothered the urge to scowl at the distracted man who'd rammed her with his shoulder in his haste to the archery tent, and kept walking. When she had first started for the festival, she had intended to find Corielle or Ivanoff to tell them what she'd heard and seen at the impromptu meeting in the town hall. However, after reflecting back on it, Damian had technically done nothing wrong. He was a political snake. But not a criminal.

Not knowing what else to do, she intended to seek out some mead to replace the bottle she'd lost, but her stomach was in knots. The air seemed thinner too, making her lungs constrict with the need to take in more air. Maybe, she was more drunk than she had thought.

That's when she noticed the haze and the people coughing. No one seemed to pick up on it at first, but they started to as the smoke increased.

She tugged at the neckline of her shirt, bringing the fabric up over her nose. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from. The forest maybe? One of the houses? Soon, it covered the entire area and panic settled in.

She wasn't sure what made her draw out the dagger from a hidden compartment in the heel of her boot, but a sense of foreboding made her veins hum.

In the smoke, she noticed a group of men. They were dressed like ordinary townsfolk, but some of them carried swords, while others grasped axes or maces. Leah had little if any time to think before she reacted. Shoving past the confused herd of people who threatened to trample any in their wake, she managed to catch a man's axe on the edge of her dagger before it could connect with the head of a passing soldier. The soldiers had been sent to patrol the festival to keep the peace, but none of them had actually anticipated violence that day.

Having been trained in the Guard, fighting came as second nature to Leah, but the lack of connection to the Guard made it so her movements were not as fluid and lacked the impact they'd once had, before. Still, she was successful in the endeavor to save the soldier and she even managed to send the axe guy back a few paces.

When he recovered, he aimed his glower and his weapon at her.

And so, Leah fought. She fought to save people as she once had and she fought like she wasn't forfeiting the one last good thing in her life.​

 

[americanCaeser]

Interacts with: Inheritance (Brom Beararm)
Location: Harvest Festival

For the first few swings, Sliv didn't even raise his guard. The elder man simply took steps back, leaned to one side or the other, even once bending his knees to let a haymaker fly recklessly close to his nose. The first swing he had thought the man was drunk, and while the wild swings after were very much clumsy he felt he knew where the kid (relative to Ivanoff's age) was going with this. If he was drunk he wouldn't have kept distance, he probably would've committed like an idiot. Another swing, and another backstep, and Ivanoff's prediction proved true. A jab suddenly shot out past his defense and struck him in the ribs, and though he hardly felt pain he could definetly feel the power behind it. It was good for a testing strike.

Sliv actually raised his guard for the next few strikes, avoiding a few and guarding with his forearms to deflect or stop strikes. The boy was gifted, both in body and in mind when it came to fighting. Knew his strengths and played to them, even tried a few tactics to get an edge against an unknown. Smart and Strong, which honestly impressed Sliv.

And dissapointed him. Brom was strong, sure, probably stronger than most of the guys Sliv would consider worthy. His punches hurt. And yet, Ivanoff knew in a life or death brawl this guy would probably go down the same. Maybe last longer than most, but it wouldn't be the thing he was yearning for. Oh well. It's not like this was a fight to win either.

While he was remaniscing, Ivanoff had begun to back up from Brom's onslaught and the big guy naturally pressed the attack (Though not his luck). The crowd that had formed around the two had to shuffle back as the two approached. Brom's got good sense, but lets see how good that skill goes. The taller man throws a punch but instead of blocking it, Sliv ducked under and stepped into his space. A quick right-jab to the nose ended with a wet crack and blood began pouring from the broken thing. But what Ivanoff was going for were the tears that immediately sprun up in Brom's eyes, a natural reaction that the older man took advantage of.

Before the bigger man knew it, Sliv had his arms wrapped around his waist and his legs kicked back. It seemed stupid, since it left Brom's hands free, but in fact Sliv had just seized the Beararm's center of gravity. Kick, punch, grab, slam... it didn't matter what he tried, Ivanoff would feel it coming. "What're ya going to do now, kid?"

Just then, all the hairs on Sliv's body stood up. His nose picked something up and for a split second Brom felt the powerful muscles of the smaller man tense for a split second.

 

[Heda]

{Location: Forest -> Festival }
{Interactions: -- }
{Mentions: Arya MarieK , Prince Caspian Inheritance }

There was little to distract Nari from spying on the two forms in the forest. Aside from the general sounds of the trees and the occasional call of a bird or animal, the wind blowing softly, she was able to pick up a decent chunk of what was shared between the two. Arya; the name of the Guardian. The spy tucked that particular piece of information away within her mind for safe keeping. She'd need to keep tabs on this one. A task for her little sparrows. The children who made up most of her network within the city, of all ages.

The next little gem of information had Nari's mind reeling. The very stone that created the Guardians hadn't been ... destroyed? Nonsense. The spy had only heard stories of the stone. The same stories everyone within the kingdom of Var knew. It was legendary but could not be a myth, not as some people believed. The very evidence of the stones' once existence and power standing before Nari now. She could not be certain of Arya's true intentions but the fact remained simple. She was setting seeds within the mind of Prince Caspian. For good or bad, Nari couldn't be certain. He seemed to believe the Guardian enough to agree to the task.

Nari shifted back, slinking behind the tree once again, staring at the patterns of the bark mere inches from her face. There was a small part of her urging the spy to reveal herself and ask the important questions. She could not, however, guarantee her own safety to stepping out of the shadows. Not many enjoyed being watched as she was watching them now.

Turning, spine pressed against the rough bark of the tree, Nari waited long after the pair left before moving for the city herself. Sounds of the festival were distant but were still in full swing. Nari paused on the outskirts of the city, considering. She could go back to the palace, seek out a certain bastard prince and give him the little information she'd discovered or she could go back to the festival and sniff out anything else worth discovering.

After a few moments, the latter idea won out and Nari strode forward, fingers finding the holds needed to hoist herself onto another rooftop. It wasn't necessary but it was an easier way to travel, along the rooftops. She could avoid the cluster of the streets.

As the spy drew closer to the festival proper, it quickly became clear something was wrong. Cheers and laughter turned into screams and fighting. Nari's pace quickened, amber eyes scanning the mayhem having broken out in the streets below. Smoke filled the space, making pinpointing the culprits difficult. Nari crouched, poised on the edge of a rooftop, leaning over, trying to discern something. Anything. After a few tense moments, her gaze landed on a figure that didn't fit the atmosphere of celebrating the harvest festival. Thick cloak and sword in hand, ready to bring death and chaos amongst the festival-goers.

Nari's sole duty was to work for and protect the royal family. She should turn away and leave this to the people sworn to protect the kingdom but she could not rightly turn away and let innocents die. She could not safely throw poisoned darts into the fray below. Too many bodies and too much smoke. The brass knuckles pulled from her belt and pushed over gloved fingers, a dagger finding home in her other fist, Nari leaned forward and dropped from the roof, descending on the unknown figure below.

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

"What happened?" He asked the girl, Penelope, in a firm but gentle voice. Through tears he got the story, and was faced with a dilemma. Should he run to the town now, or should he attend to this young girl. Well, if he had learned anything in the last twenty minutes or so, it was that this girl could take care of herself. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He commanded before bolting after Arya.

As he began to approach the festival, he saw smoke rising and heard the screams of women and children. Gritting his teeth he surged forward, dodging the horde of people trying to escape whatever horror was ahead. As he got to a place where people began to clear out he drew his weapon and scanned the area for hostiles. He was only vaguely aware of how he looked; the blaze of the fire making his armor and blade seem to glow, and the smoke wrapping him in a dark cloak. The shadow of darkness battling the golden light around him gave him a strange, yet mighty look that would burn into the minds of many who watched that day.

At last he caught view of the assailants. He didn't recognize any of them, but anyone who was willing to attack the Harvest Festival (and by extension the innocent) was worthy of nothing more than death. Giving his normal battle salute, Caspian charged at the attackers. He noted there were several others already taking up the defense, and seeing none of them in serious trouble (not yet anyway), went about fighting one.

The man saw Caspian charging, his salute had made sure of that, but as Caspian's weapon met with the man's he noticed two things. For one, the man clearly didn't expect the Prince to be as talented with a sword as he was, and the first part of the fight was simply the man reeling back as Caspian's superior swordsmanship drove him back towards one of the tents. The second thing Caspian noted was that even when the man recovered from his initial shock, it didn't seem like he was trying to fight him. The man ducked and weaved through his blows, but aside from raising his own weapon in self defense he never struck at Caspian. Caspian's first instinct was to assume that he was just that good, and that a common thug had no chance against him...

But that couldn't be the case. No common thug would have attacked the Harvest Festival, so close to the palace and with obvious news that the royal family would be there. But...if they knew the royal family would be there, was that why they were here? With a quick maneuver, Caspian pinned his enemy's weapon down and slammed his left hand into the man's jaw. The man crumpled and dropped, and Caspian smashed the hilt of his weapon on the man's head, knocking him out . His eyes darted around frantically -where were his brothers? He had not seen his sister out here, but he would keep an eye out. He charged another thug, though just as before it seemed the man did not want to harm Caspian. He couldn't imagine why, but the lack of his opponent's aggression gave him the opportunity to disarm and knock him out as well, all the while scanning for his family...

MarieK FireMaiden Heda

Brom Beararm​

The old man had not disappointed him with his skill, as fairly quickly into their fight his nose was broken and he was hurting in all sorts of ways. Not that this was new to him, he had fought enough people in his own village to be able to shoulder through any pain. What was giving him pause just now was the fact that somehow, with a strange move he had never seen, he was off balance and in a strange position against his foe. Perhaps the only reason the old man could do this was his enhanced strength, as nobody that small and agile would normally be able to lift him in such a manor. As he struggled in the air for a second, he heard the old man speak.

"What are you gonna do now, kid?"

This had become a little patronizing. As he was granted the opportunity to think for a moment, he figured that any normal attack would be predicted...so he supposed it was a good question. What was he gonna do now? Just as he was formulating some sort of plan, he felt the Elder tense up, and smelling smoke, he began to look around as well.

A burst of flame flew from one of the far off tents, followed by the screams of civilians. In a quick motion he shoved himself out of the Elder's grasp (their fight was over, there was something much more important to deal with) and turned to him.

"Let's continue this later. There are people to save." He grunted before turning and bolting off in the direction of the smoke. But even as he ran off, trying to direct his mind to the fight ahead, the Elder's question echoed in his head. What are you gonna do now, Kid?

americanCaeser

 

[Tattletale]

Seth​

Location: Festival ​

Mentions: Brom Beararm Inheritance Slavinoff Kryer americanCaeser Nari-Vishara Aloro Heda Arthur MarieK ​

Seth strolled down the crowded street, the scent of cheap booze, sweet food, and sweaty people rushing his nose under his helm. Patrol duty was something he didn't really need to do anymore, seniority had its perks, but he needed to clear his mind. As he walked, he contemplated grimly everything that had happened the last few weeks. The King was dead, the princes squabbled, divided, the Guard was growing increasingly erratic and...

He didn't know who to trust anymore. Had the monarch truly passed away from natural causes? Or had he failed his liege?

He hadn't had the heart to ask Lady Aloro about it. She had been nothing but loyal during to the royal family during his years of service, and yet... Seth could never reconcile with her methods even though he knew the necessity of her work. It mattered not: he needed to believe in his comrades. Maybe the spy would seek him if she had intel to offer, and it wasn't like he could find her if she didn't want to be found.

With a heavy sigh, the former mercenary gave a nod to a couple of guardsmen —Regular soldiers, not Royal Guard—, who saluted, and started to return to the Palace: he had left Arthur alone to deal with that dreadful little Royal Advisor, and his old friend would have his skin if Seth didn't at least show up a bit earlier from his patrol. It was only then that he realized commotion a bit further down the small avenue. People were gathering around something... or someone. It didn't take Seth long to find out the cause of the ruckus. He could clearly see Kryer's massive weapon towering above the townfolk.

Truly, that man! Brawling in the middle of the street, again? At least he had the sense not to use Kingdom Slayer, but a punch from him could still kill a normal person as easily as a fly. Seth cursed softly, striding purposefully to break up his fellow Guardsman and whoever he had baited into fighting. He couldn't actually defeat him, but he had a flask full of that dreadful ale Slavinoff seemed to enjoy so much. A little bargaining would probably do the trick.

Suddenly, a booming sound ripped through the air from a nearby tent, and he felt scorching flames licking the posts of the nearby stalls. Civilians started panicking, so he took over, his voice ringing clear and firm over the shouts.

"Evacuate the district! All able-bodied men and women gather buckets and sand!"

He turned to the guards he had acknowledged earlier.

"Soldier, cordon the street. I want a platoon here to help calm the townsfolk."

And he dashed towards the fire without a word, hoping no one had been hurt in the conflagration.

 

[MarieK]

Location: Festival
Interacts with: Inheritance
Mentions: FireMaiden

Arya

Her nostrils flared at the thinning supply of oxygen in the suffocatingly dense curtain of smoke that shuttered most of the chaos from view. The inhalation of smoke burned her throat and lungs making her long for fresh air and water, but such luxuries would have to wait.

Arya scrambled to the nearest bystanders, helping them hook up their team of horses to the cart that carried their means of livelihood. Many merchants had gathered at the festival to sell their crafts and baked goods, and they weren't about to leave anything behind if they could help it. But choosing things over life was utter madness and it soon became apparent that not everything could be salvaged.

Arya had only just hitched up the horses when she glanced up and saw the arrow barreling toward her. Its aim was true, directed at the center of her chest. Even if she had tried to dodge it, it probably would have been too late. At the last moment, it hit an invisible wall and fell harmlessly at her feet. She looked in the direction it had been shot from and saw the archer.

Before he could nock another arrow, a dagger flashed from her hand and hit him in the neck.

Wiping her hand on her leg, she turned back to encourage the wife and husband she'd been helping, to get going, but they had already taken their horses and fled the area.

She needed to locate the princess and Roawn.

Scanning the meadow where the dancing had taken place, she could make out forms in the smoke, but it was impossible to decipher who the forms belonged to. In her searching, her eyes locked on a man fighting of a group of men. She bit back a curse when she realized it was Caspian. He should have stayed in the forest where it was safe instead of risking his life and the future of the throne by joining in on what could very well be the beginning of civil war.

But even as Arya hurried to assist him, she could tell his opponent appeared reluctant to fight him. Maybe, he was afeared of retaliation should he be tried later for wounding the heir to the throne?

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off by a fist. Knuckles as hard as rock hit her mouth with a wet 'crunch'. The tip of a canine sliced her upper lip and the taste of blood filled her mouth. Her stomach roiled.

Arya could hardly blame the man for having landed the punch when she had been distracted and had failed to notice him step out of the smoke at her left.

Somehow, she managed to maintain her footing, but her knees wavered beneath her weight. He took the opportunity to seize her up by the back of the shirt, but as he did, she swung the hilt of her sword back, smashing his nose. His grasp on her shirt faltered and she was quick to follow up with a defensive maneuver that rendered him motionless in the mud.

Again, she wiped her throwing hand on her thigh.

Her face was probably a mess of blood and discoloration, but the bleeding had ceased and her jaw was no longer throbbing as it had been moments before. The magic worked at a faster rate at the height of battle.

Arya continued on with caution driving each step. The smoke had worsened considerably from when she'd first arrived back at the festival. Wherever the fire hailed from, it wasn't far from the clearing. If they did not get everyone out soon-

Another attacker emerged from the plume of smoke, but this time, she was ready. Metal clashed against metal, sending a shockwave up her arms. Within seconds, she had disarmed the man and he surrendered. The man couldn't have been much older than seventeen, by the looks of him. Arya could have very well killed him as she had with the archer. What if the archer had been that young?

Absently, she wiped her hand on her shirt.

"Do you see them?" she called out to Caspian, desperate to know if Roawn and Yvette were well.

It was unlikely Caspian had detected her question above the hell unfolding around them, so she didn't bother waiting for his response. Directing the boy onto his feet, she led him through the haze at the end of her weapon, searching for the princess and Roawn.
​

 

[FireMaiden]

Princess Yvette
Location:
Autumn Festival
Interaction:
Inheritance (Caspian) MarieK (Ayra)
Mentioned:
N/A
​

The way they danced together...Yvette couldn't keep herself from smiling. Swing wasn't something she was too use to, but Yvette quickly got the hang of it. Being spun around like she was weightless, it made her heart flutter. This was the most fun she had had in a while. After her father's death the battle for the throne began rather quickly. So this...this was a very nice way to forget about her problems for a little bit. After the dance was done, Yvette once again made some suggestions, but Rowan seemed adamant on her having control of what they did. So, Yvette led them around to her favorite spots. The sheep petting corral, the street stalls with fried dough covered in sugar, the archery lanes. The contest hadn't started yet, so for now it was just people showing off their skills for a few coins.

And Yvette obviously got in line. She didn't know what weapon Rowan had given up, but if it turned out to be a bow..maybe she would have a new sparring partner? That was an exciting thought. Yvette had to wait a few minutes for her turn, but she soon had a small quiver on her shoulder and a short bow in her hands. It was a pretty standard maple bow, not as nice as Minthe her personal bow, but it would do for now. Raising, it she notched an arrow and aimed down at the straw target. No sooner than she did however, Yvette heard screaming. Immediately dropping her bow down so she could look around. From where she was, Yvette couldn't see but it appeared that the guardian could.

A strong arm wrapped around Yvette's waist, hoisting her up without a word just as the crowd of terrified civilians went running from whatever chaos was out of the princess's sight. Yvette could smell smoke, and in just a matter of seconds, the flames. They engulfed homes and stalls, civilians ran for their lives. But not just from the flames. Yvette spotted a few unknown men attacking anyone they could get their hands on. Rowan seemed to notice at the same time, ducking into an alley with her to try and stay out of sight. But as he did, the man ran straight into a group of the mysterious attackers. Yvette was dropped, and Rowan drew his sword as she scrambled to her feet.

The man turned slightly, motioning for her to run, attention quickly returning to the group as he charged forward. Yvette didn't want to leave him behind, notching an arrow, she quickly drew and loosed it into the one closest to her. He turned as she notched another one, aiming at him again. This time, with a better sight to his head, she fired. The tip of the arrow buried itself into his eye as Rowan charged off, putting his body weight into the two he was battling with. Yvette followed, the man she shot attempting to tackle her but instead, landed rather unfortunately and drove the arrow further into his skull.

That brief victory lasted only moments, as did Rowan's upper hand. Another strong arm was sent right into her ribs as she rounded the corner Rowan had gone around. It was another one of the assailants, that blow knocking the wind out of Yvette. Who was then tossed back violently into a nearby wall. Her head hit the wall with a crack, her body spasming when it hit the ground as she desperately tried to gasp for air. The man who had thrown her began his approach, a side eyed glance to Rowan struggling to over power to is his companions.

The tide shifted before Yvette truly understood what was going on. The man that had thrown her was close, Rowan taking a blow so he break away form his fight and throw himself into the man getting too close to Yvette. One of the men Rowan had been fighting though scrambled, taking the opportunity to attack Rowan while his back was turned. The sword pierced his throat before Yvette could even utter a warning. The princess's eyes went wide, Rowan coughing blood but the man refused to go down. He threw his head back, braking the nose of the man who stabbed him as he once again signaled for Yvette to run.

That time, she listened. Scrambling away, her head throbbing, Yvette ran back into the streets full of flame an smoke. She would run blindly, scurrying through the crowd of panicking people. Rowan was...was...he had to be fine. He was a guardian, he could pull through right? On one hand she wanted to go back and help. On the other, she needed Ayra's help. That her goal now, find the other guardian. But she could hardly see anything thanks to the smoke, her eyes were already burning and she had only been running for a few moments. But those few moments would prove to be lucky as Yvette ran right into someone. Panicking momentarily, Yvette backed up only to see it was the other guardian. "Ayra! Oh my god, Rowan needs help, he-" the glint of something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

The familiar armor, a sword preparing to be brought down, Yvette quickly raised he bow with an arrow notched, another in her hand. She fired one, the arrow hitting the sword to knock it back, giving her enough time to notch and loose the second arrow aimed at where the unknown assailants torso should be. "Caspian behind you!"

 

[Inheritance]

Prince Caspian​

He only vaguely heard Yvette's call as he disarmed the man in front of him, who sprinted away. Had she only called out, he would have been two slow to turn around and fight the man charging. Fortunately for him, Yvette was a woman of action, and she knew better than to pointlessly call out. Caspian turned to see the marauder drop down, arrow protruding from his chest. After surveying the immediate area, Caspian kicked him aside and rushed over to Yvette and Arya to regroup and plan

"Have any of you located a leader?" Caspian asked in a calm, but firm voice. "I hardly see any rhyme to their reason! It just seems like a random..." He trailed off, noticing Yvette's obvious distress.

"What happened?" He asked with a growing horror. A dark thought resurfaced to his mind, one he was trying to push away during the heat of battle. Had someone been hurt?

He once again did a scan of the area, looking around half-desperately for a sibling of his. The only thing he really saw through the smoke and haze was a burly, giant of a man leaping through the smoke and crashing into a small cluster of attackers. Bold. He turned back towards the group, waiting for their responses. He wondered how many were dead, how many were hurt. How could he let this happen? He was away for too long and had grown far too careless...and now he was paying the price. He could only pray to whatever gods there were that his siblings were safe and sound, waiting for an answer as the screams of the innocent flooded the air...

FireMaiden MarieK

 

[Office Worker Craig]

Name: Prince Renald
Location: Autumn Festival
Interactions: Inheritance MarieK FireMaiden (or anyone nearby)

In a moment, the calm clarity of the festival was shattered as panic took the hold of his people. Civilians ran screaming for help, buildings nearby were set ablaze, and smoke filled the air.

Renald couldn't do anything, his voice silenced by the chaos that ensued. Even if his voice was heard, would they listen? He wasn't the beacon of safety that the guardians and even Caspian were seen as, he was just a weak prince who couldn't even carry a blade.

"Caspian behind you!" his dear sister shouted. Renald was quick into action and ran towards where his sister's cry came from. From a far distance, he could see Caspian's mighty armor. He tried to push his way to reach his family but the crowd won't budge.

"Caspian!" he cried out. "Yvette!, I'm over here! I'm over-"

A pain-filled shriek was all Renald could let out as a sharp pain pierced the side of his stomach. He turned his head to see a man with a blade piercing his torso. Further pain erupted as the attacker pulled to blade from the wound, making Renald wince scream in pain as he dropped to the floor. The man looked down at him with determined eyes, gripping his blade covered with the prince's blood.

Renald tried to grab his knife from his coat but the attacker was quick and stabbed all the way through his hand, making Renald scream in pain once more.

"Someone! Anyone! Please help me!"

(Sorry for the poor quality, didn't have time to polish it.)

 

[Tattletale]

Seth​

Location: Festival ​

Mentions: Prince Renald Office Worker Craig ​

The flames were more intense than he had anticipated. He could feel the soot getting inside his visor as the air got harder to breathe, while he ushered a panicked couple out of a blazing tent. Cursing, he stomped on a burning log and kicked dirt over it, trying to smother it. A few nearby buildings were starting to catch on fire, engulfed in the hungry inferno. People were streaming out of the district, hopefully not too singed.

How was it spreading so fast?

He felt the blow before he saw it. A hooded figure burst from a lateral alley, wielding two handaxes. On instinct, Seth took half a step to the side, dodging by a split hair. They were fast, and kept pressing their advantage, trying to keep Seth from unsheathing his side sword. Not fast enough. He stepped harshly on their feet, making his attacker yelp, and took the opening: his gauntleted hand snapped up, gripping theirs and squeezing. He felt bones crunching, and as his opponent cringed in pain Seth drew his blade and stabbed them cleanly through the neck.

The figure crumpled to the ground, inert, hood falling backward. Seth looked at them —at her, she was a woman— and winced. Not a woman, a child. She couldn't be older than 16, what does this—

"Someone! Anyone! Please help me!"

A desperate yell soared through the sweltering heat, scrambling his thoughts. He knew that voice! Dashing madly up the street, he found the source of the scream. It was as he had feared. Prince Renald lay on the ground, one hand clutching his torso while the other was pinned by a sword to the ground. A sword wielded by a man with death in his eyes.

No. Not again. Not while he drew breath.

Snarling, Seth charged from behind, unslinging his short spear from his back, poised to strike. The man, intent as it was on the Prince, didn't see it coming. Seth's spear pierced his back and emerged from his chest, drawing a gurgling sound from the would-be assassin. With a brusque gesture, the former mercenary dislodged the corpse from his weapon and kneeled next to his wounded ward, doffing his helm.

"Your Highness! We must bring you to safety. Can you walk, sire?"

Dark eyes filled with worry, he started examining Prince Renald's injuries. Seth ripped part of his tabard and began bandaging the wounds. He was no physician, but with luck, he hoped he'd live. He had to hope he would.