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Fantasy The Kingsword Will Stand (OPEN)
- Thread starter viloxii
- Start date
viloxii
Vis Per Mare
((OOC: I am sorry for the shortness! But I felt like it'd be best lol))
Caffeinated Joy
When the going gets tough, the tough get coffee
Vail looked at the staff in his hands and smiled slowly, arching an eyebrow at Myara as he gave the shutter staff in his hands a few testing spins to guage it's weight and speed. A part of him had been aware of her hurrying out of the Tavern while he practiced, but he'd put her out his mind as not a threat. She was dangerous, true, but she wasn't a threat to him, so he'd continued. He tried to do some drills every day - he'd learned several over the years to cover different forms of combat with different weapons. it was a common practice among the royal family and their military to learn in this way. It allowed for speciatlization in a few and competence in many, so no elf fighter would be caught unable to at least hold thier own. Take the staff. He was good with one, but, it wasn't a specialty. His specialty was in dual weilding, and in sword combat.
Myara slid one foot back and prepared herself to spar, the look on her face clearly saying, "Well?"
She'd probably seen him pacing around like a caged animal and knew, possibly even better than him, he needed to safely vent, and decided to help him in the best way she knew how. Briefly, he wondered if Aenwyn could fix whatever had broken inside his head, then rolled his shoulders, and settled his booted feet in the soggy grass, one behind the other, and lifted the staff to give it a final spin. His smile widened, showing his teeth, "Well." He said, and suddenly swung it at her legs in a quick move.
Myara's lip quirked slightly and she defitly leaped over his pole, swinging her own at his head. He grunted softly and blocked it, conjuring a speed of movement shocking even him. He didn't take any time to pause to congratulate himself; that was the best way to earn himself a concussion. He knew full well how strong Myara was. He kept his parry moving, swinging her pole away from him to bring his own into her shin with a solid clang of wood against metal. She stepped back, grunting more in surprise than any pain, and jabbed her staff at his hip, flicking it up when he moved to block to strike a tap at his shoulder.
"Oh, you can do better. I've been hit harder by toddlers." He teased, circling around her. "I'm sure you've wanted to hit me more than once. Now's your chance!"
She circled him in response, twitching her eyebrows upward as if to say, "The hell you say?"
They traded a few more blows, neither of them landing any clear hits. The sounds of their staves striking together echoed loudly, and they found a rhythm of movement looking just as much like a dance as it did a good, heavy sparring session. In pole fighting, you moved forward and side to side. Never back, which put you at a disadvantage - both of them fought hard to force the other into a distadvantage, and neither of them could quite succeed. Their feet churned up the muddy grass beneath them, making their footing treacherous. Myara swung at him and he leapt to one side, his foot sliding. As he fought to stay upright, her staff clipped his shoulder, almost sending him down, and definitely bruising. Miraculously, he kept his balance and, with a victorious laugh, he turned to one side and, with a snap of his wrist, swung his staff around, sweeping Myara's feet out from under her. She went down with a grunt and a splash of mud, but not without hooking her feet around his legs and pulling him down too.
He landed in the mud beside her, his staff tumbling from his fingers with a wet splat. Vail looked up at the sky again, not for answers this time, but just to have a moment to catch his breath. He heard a strange noise come from Myara beside him and he turned his head to see her laughing. Mud streaked through her white hair and across her face....and she was laughing. At him? With him? At herself? All of the above? Who cared? He grinned and reached out to give her shoulder a teasing shove, his own laughter joining hers.
After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked at her seriously. "My name is not Vail Fairfax, it turns out. I am Vail Altaine." He said softly. "I am the True Sovereign."
Myara slid one foot back and prepared herself to spar, the look on her face clearly saying, "Well?"
She'd probably seen him pacing around like a caged animal and knew, possibly even better than him, he needed to safely vent, and decided to help him in the best way she knew how. Briefly, he wondered if Aenwyn could fix whatever had broken inside his head, then rolled his shoulders, and settled his booted feet in the soggy grass, one behind the other, and lifted the staff to give it a final spin. His smile widened, showing his teeth, "Well." He said, and suddenly swung it at her legs in a quick move.
Myara's lip quirked slightly and she defitly leaped over his pole, swinging her own at his head. He grunted softly and blocked it, conjuring a speed of movement shocking even him. He didn't take any time to pause to congratulate himself; that was the best way to earn himself a concussion. He knew full well how strong Myara was. He kept his parry moving, swinging her pole away from him to bring his own into her shin with a solid clang of wood against metal. She stepped back, grunting more in surprise than any pain, and jabbed her staff at his hip, flicking it up when he moved to block to strike a tap at his shoulder.
"Oh, you can do better. I've been hit harder by toddlers." He teased, circling around her. "I'm sure you've wanted to hit me more than once. Now's your chance!"
She circled him in response, twitching her eyebrows upward as if to say, "The hell you say?"
They traded a few more blows, neither of them landing any clear hits. The sounds of their staves striking together echoed loudly, and they found a rhythm of movement looking just as much like a dance as it did a good, heavy sparring session. In pole fighting, you moved forward and side to side. Never back, which put you at a disadvantage - both of them fought hard to force the other into a distadvantage, and neither of them could quite succeed. Their feet churned up the muddy grass beneath them, making their footing treacherous. Myara swung at him and he leapt to one side, his foot sliding. As he fought to stay upright, her staff clipped his shoulder, almost sending him down, and definitely bruising. Miraculously, he kept his balance and, with a victorious laugh, he turned to one side and, with a snap of his wrist, swung his staff around, sweeping Myara's feet out from under her. She went down with a grunt and a splash of mud, but not without hooking her feet around his legs and pulling him down too.
He landed in the mud beside her, his staff tumbling from his fingers with a wet splat. Vail looked up at the sky again, not for answers this time, but just to have a moment to catch his breath. He heard a strange noise come from Myara beside him and he turned his head to see her laughing. Mud streaked through her white hair and across her face....and she was laughing. At him? With him? At herself? All of the above? Who cared? He grinned and reached out to give her shoulder a teasing shove, his own laughter joining hers.
After a moment, he took a deep breath and looked at her seriously. "My name is not Vail Fairfax, it turns out. I am Vail Altaine." He said softly. "I am the True Sovereign."
((OOC: I know Marnie is there watching. She'd very likely hear that quiet confession with her freaky elven hearing.))
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Ayama
Enthusiast
There was no denying the reality of elven grace and speed, and sparring with Vail all this time had definitely sharpened her reflexes.
She dodged his first swipe with ease and immediately countered with a blow of her own, which he easily blocked. They started circling each other as they struck and parried, falling into a natural rhythm.
Myara kept her center of balance purposefully low to the ground, lest a blow and the muddy ground make her trip. The corner of her lip twitched upwards as he slid, her staff immediately punishing him for the lapse but, too relaxed to pay attention, she paid for it with another swipe, this one sending her plummeting to earth.
As she dropped, she made sure to take him down with her, and they both hit the ground hard and ended up splattered with fresh mud.
The sight of the elf with his clean tunic, long hair, and pale skin covered in dirt was so comical that she burst out laughing, Vail turning to her in surprise before shoving her and joining in.
Myara had to admit, even though she wasn't much for games or people, growing up in poverty and then the army hadn't made for much of a childhood, and it was nice for once to act silly and laugh with a friend.
After a long moment, they fell silent, and Vail took a deep breath as if preparing to reveal some incredible truth. He looked her in the eyes as he revealed the name of his birth, his voice soft with reverence, and Myara rolled her own.
"Think you might've saved that little girl from last night some trouble by reading that before now?" she said drily, nodding at the cloak she knew enfolded the elf's father's precious journal. "She practically gave herself a seizure to convince you of it."
She dodged his first swipe with ease and immediately countered with a blow of her own, which he easily blocked. They started circling each other as they struck and parried, falling into a natural rhythm.
Myara kept her center of balance purposefully low to the ground, lest a blow and the muddy ground make her trip. The corner of her lip twitched upwards as he slid, her staff immediately punishing him for the lapse but, too relaxed to pay attention, she paid for it with another swipe, this one sending her plummeting to earth.
As she dropped, she made sure to take him down with her, and they both hit the ground hard and ended up splattered with fresh mud.
The sight of the elf with his clean tunic, long hair, and pale skin covered in dirt was so comical that she burst out laughing, Vail turning to her in surprise before shoving her and joining in.
Myara had to admit, even though she wasn't much for games or people, growing up in poverty and then the army hadn't made for much of a childhood, and it was nice for once to act silly and laugh with a friend.
After a long moment, they fell silent, and Vail took a deep breath as if preparing to reveal some incredible truth. He looked her in the eyes as he revealed the name of his birth, his voice soft with reverence, and Myara rolled her own.
"Think you might've saved that little girl from last night some trouble by reading that before now?" she said drily, nodding at the cloak she knew enfolded the elf's father's precious journal. "She practically gave herself a seizure to convince you of it."
Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
Aenwyn stepped back to dodge as the door opened, the weepy water elf dashing into the room. Neither she nor Nimue was acknowledged, she merely sprinted to the window, nearing running into the glass with her haste. Then she left once more without a word, though she did have the wherewithal to avoid the healer on her way out. “At least she wasn’t crying.”
Ignoring whatever crisis the girl was having, she returned her attention to her patient, placing a glowing hand on her forehead, “If you feel up to it. You didn’t have any seizures last night, but the source is still there.” While it was important to stay in bed to prevent further injury, it was equally important not to when well enough. “I doubt it’s anything exciting. She probably just has some more weeping left over from last night.”
Still, loading her pack onto her shoulders, she glanced around the room. What a waste. No other spent the night here. Even though there was space for all of them and the bear in there. Shaking her head, she led the way through the still-open door, heading downstairs. She spotted their benefactor immediately but first stopped at the bar to order “Breakfast for two.” After handing over her own coins, she turned to Nimue once more, “Sit down, don’t waste energy you don’t have.”
Ignoring whatever crisis the girl was having, she returned her attention to her patient, placing a glowing hand on her forehead, “If you feel up to it. You didn’t have any seizures last night, but the source is still there.” While it was important to stay in bed to prevent further injury, it was equally important not to when well enough. “I doubt it’s anything exciting. She probably just has some more weeping left over from last night.”
Still, loading her pack onto her shoulders, she glanced around the room. What a waste. No other spent the night here. Even though there was space for all of them and the bear in there. Shaking her head, she led the way through the still-open door, heading downstairs. She spotted their benefactor immediately but first stopped at the bar to order “Breakfast for two.” After handing over her own coins, she turned to Nimue once more, “Sit down, don’t waste energy you don’t have.”
Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
He woke slowly, a warm weight on him. Like a full-body hug. There was fur in his mouth, but as weirdly long as it was, it was normal enough that he just tried to spit it out half asleep. As his sense returned, he recognized it as a warm body, but it didn’t feel like Barrow. And the last time he slept with Luna he burned up even with his magic circulating water through his blood.
He opened his eyes to his sister’s voice, dark brown hair partially concealing his view. Automatically, he rose to reach his sister, banging his head against the one resting near his shoulder. Holding his nose with a curse, he remembered the night before. Julian Valerius and Aevar fucking Istedir. Where was the latter? He’d watched him while keeping his old friend entertained. While he trusted Antigone’s threat to hold Julian’s tongue, he had no assurances with Istedir. Keeping him under watch was the best tactic. It was only after he'd seen him head up to a room that he'd relaxed into the old friendship completely.
Though maybe he should have slowed down on the drinking, for all the excuse kept the former heir in sight. He wasn’t sure which hurt more his head or his nose. Swiping underneath it to check for blood, he shoved at Julian while Antigone continued her threat. He started to shake underneath his friend, holding in his laughter to not disrupt her fun.
He opened his eyes to his sister’s voice, dark brown hair partially concealing his view. Automatically, he rose to reach his sister, banging his head against the one resting near his shoulder. Holding his nose with a curse, he remembered the night before. Julian Valerius and Aevar fucking Istedir. Where was the latter? He’d watched him while keeping his old friend entertained. While he trusted Antigone’s threat to hold Julian’s tongue, he had no assurances with Istedir. Keeping him under watch was the best tactic. It was only after he'd seen him head up to a room that he'd relaxed into the old friendship completely.
Though maybe he should have slowed down on the drinking, for all the excuse kept the former heir in sight. He wasn’t sure which hurt more his head or his nose. Swiping underneath it to check for blood, he shoved at Julian while Antigone continued her threat. He started to shake underneath his friend, holding in his laughter to not disrupt her fun.
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Ayama
Enthusiast
Julian heard the familiar shlick of two sharp blades sliding against each other, and instantly recoiled as he saw the instrument in Antigone's hands. Her smile and cheerful demeanor were somehow even more terrifying than the sight of the druid standing over him holding a pair of horse shears, and Julian felt himself shiver.
"Now Im- Antigone- I can explain-" he began as he held up his hands and tried to back away, but came up against the bulk of his friend, still sprawled out beneath him, just as Agathon woke, tried to get up, and banged his head against Julian's shoulder.
He heard the druid curse and tried to get himself untangled from the situation but, just as he was attempting to create some distance, he felt a sharp tug on the end of his hair.
Suddenly horrified that Antigone was somehow already acting on her threat, despite being clearly still several feet away from him, he turned his head to find out what had ahold of him, when his eyes widened in horror as he saw that the ends of his hair were currently in Agathon's mouth.
"Eaurgh!"
He gave a shriek that was somewhere between a banshee and a raven and yanked the precious strands out of his friend's open maw, scrambling to his feet even as both druids laughed at him.
"Water- I need water!" he called, desperately looking around as if expecting some to magically materialize.
"Now Im- Antigone- I can explain-" he began as he held up his hands and tried to back away, but came up against the bulk of his friend, still sprawled out beneath him, just as Agathon woke, tried to get up, and banged his head against Julian's shoulder.
He heard the druid curse and tried to get himself untangled from the situation but, just as he was attempting to create some distance, he felt a sharp tug on the end of his hair.
Suddenly horrified that Antigone was somehow already acting on her threat, despite being clearly still several feet away from him, he turned his head to find out what had ahold of him, when his eyes widened in horror as he saw that the ends of his hair were currently in Agathon's mouth.
"Eaurgh!"
He gave a shriek that was somewhere between a banshee and a raven and yanked the precious strands out of his friend's open maw, scrambling to his feet even as both druids laughed at him.
"Water- I need water!" he called, desperately looking around as if expecting some to magically materialize.
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viloxii
Vis Per Mare
Caffeinated Joy
When the going gets tough, the tough get coffee
The Female Druid - Antigone
Location: Stables
With: Julian, Agathon & animals
Mood: Amused
The sound of Aggie's struggle to hold back his laughter just about did her in. When Julian looked at her with an expression of unadulterated horror at the hoof nippers in her hand, her grin widened, and she snapped them shut again.
Barlow paced behind her, his agitation at Julian's intrusion into his space last night palpable. Sour smell and no balance. Clumsy long hair man takes up too much room for such a scrawny pup. The wolf yawned, showing off his teeth.
"Not now, Barrow." She whispered.
At that moment, Julian released a shrill, high-pitched shriek and leaped to his feet, screaming for water and casting about for it desperately. She blinked at him once, then twice, and finally doubled over in sputtering laughter.
"Blessed Earth, Aggie, get him all the water you can!"
Location: Stables
With: Julian, Agathon & animals
Mood: Amused
The sound of Aggie's struggle to hold back his laughter just about did her in. When Julian looked at her with an expression of unadulterated horror at the hoof nippers in her hand, her grin widened, and she snapped them shut again.
Barlow paced behind her, his agitation at Julian's intrusion into his space last night palpable. Sour smell and no balance. Clumsy long hair man takes up too much room for such a scrawny pup. The wolf yawned, showing off his teeth.
"Not now, Barrow." She whispered.
At that moment, Julian released a shrill, high-pitched shriek and leaped to his feet, screaming for water and casting about for it desperately. She blinked at him once, then twice, and finally doubled over in sputtering laughter.
"Blessed Earth, Aggie, get him all the water you can!"
Caffeinated Joy
When the going gets tough, the tough get coffee
The True Sovereign - Vail Fairfax Altaine
Location - Yard behind the tavern
With - Mayara & Marnie
Mood - Oddly calm
Vail sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, falling uncharacteristically silent for a moment as he mulled over Myara's words. She was right, of course. He could have saved Nimue a lot of pain if he'd read his father's journal ages ago, but...he just couldn't, and he knew she didn't understand why.
He turned his head to look at Myara and studied her for a moment, as if trying to make a decision, before speaking, "You're right, of course. If I could have convinced myself to open his journal, I would have known all of this months ago. it's not that simple for me, though, and I know it's hard for you to understand why." He paused. "I don't know if I can explain."
He fell silent again as Marnie approached them from behind and rested her hands on his shoulders. He reached up to cover one of her hands with his own and sighed softly. "I didn't read much before I had to stop. It's hard to read, especially since i haven't really mourned him yet. There was never time."
Location - Yard behind the tavern
With - Mayara & Marnie
Mood - Oddly calm
Vail sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, falling uncharacteristically silent for a moment as he mulled over Myara's words. She was right, of course. He could have saved Nimue a lot of pain if he'd read his father's journal ages ago, but...he just couldn't, and he knew she didn't understand why.
He turned his head to look at Myara and studied her for a moment, as if trying to make a decision, before speaking, "You're right, of course. If I could have convinced myself to open his journal, I would have known all of this months ago. it's not that simple for me, though, and I know it's hard for you to understand why." He paused. "I don't know if I can explain."
He fell silent again as Marnie approached them from behind and rested her hands on his shoulders. He reached up to cover one of her hands with his own and sighed softly. "I didn't read much before I had to stop. It's hard to read, especially since i haven't really mourned him yet. There was never time."
Ayama
Enthusiast
After a while, they had chuckled themselves into silence, and Vail had gone pensive again. When he looked at her as if trying to decide something, she frowned. What the heck is that look? she wondered.
As Vail awkwardly told her that he essentially didn't know if he could tell her, Myara rolled her eyes.
You don't owe me an explanation, Vail, she thought. But you might wanna get one ready for Nimue when she asks.
At that moment Marnie, who'd been watching the fight from the doorway, walked over to them. She placed her hands on Vail's shoulders and stared at him as if trying trying both to understand and memorize every detail of his face.
As he extrapolated on his father, Myara gave a single, understanding nod. Most of the elf's emotions were still puzzling to her, but she didn't need to understand to be supportive. Well, up to a point.
Myara eyed the two elves' once again intertwined hands and thought Well, that's my cue to leave as she straightened up from the muddy ground using the staff, before they melt into puddles again.
When she walked back into the mostly empty tavern, she immediately noticed her three... comrades (the word felt odd to even think) eating at a table together.
She passed them without a word and headed upstairs to the room no one but Nimue and Aenwyn seemed to have spent the night in. Peeling off her heavy, mud-spattered armor, she used the wash basin to make herself mildly more presentable, then headed back downstairs.
"Coffee, gruel," she grunted at the barkeep on her way to the table, seating herself between Aenwyn and the Prince. She narrowed her eyes at the prophet as her food was set before her and got straight to the point.
"I assume you have some notion of what we do next- I need whatever information you have so I can do my job." Heir or no Heir, prophecy or no prophecy, her duty hadn't changed: follow Vail wherever he might go and whatever he might choose to do, and make sure he didn't die while doing it.
As Vail awkwardly told her that he essentially didn't know if he could tell her, Myara rolled her eyes.
You don't owe me an explanation, Vail, she thought. But you might wanna get one ready for Nimue when she asks.
At that moment Marnie, who'd been watching the fight from the doorway, walked over to them. She placed her hands on Vail's shoulders and stared at him as if trying trying both to understand and memorize every detail of his face.
As he extrapolated on his father, Myara gave a single, understanding nod. Most of the elf's emotions were still puzzling to her, but she didn't need to understand to be supportive. Well, up to a point.
Myara eyed the two elves' once again intertwined hands and thought Well, that's my cue to leave as she straightened up from the muddy ground using the staff, before they melt into puddles again.
When she walked back into the mostly empty tavern, she immediately noticed her three... comrades (the word felt odd to even think) eating at a table together.
She passed them without a word and headed upstairs to the room no one but Nimue and Aenwyn seemed to have spent the night in. Peeling off her heavy, mud-spattered armor, she used the wash basin to make herself mildly more presentable, then headed back downstairs.
"Coffee, gruel," she grunted at the barkeep on her way to the table, seating herself between Aenwyn and the Prince. She narrowed her eyes at the prophet as her food was set before her and got straight to the point.
"I assume you have some notion of what we do next- I need whatever information you have so I can do my job." Heir or no Heir, prophecy or no prophecy, her duty hadn't changed: follow Vail wherever he might go and whatever he might choose to do, and make sure he didn't die while doing it.
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Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
Like an earthquake of laughter, Agathon couldn’t control his body. He’d curled into the hay, tremors going throughout him as he tried to convince air to enter his lungs. He rolled over at his sister's voice, still half curled, and smirked at her command. If he wasn’t here, he was sure she’d have dumped Julian into the trough. Raising a hand, he shot a stream of water at the wailing boy, not wanting to hurt him with the pressure. Just, fulfilling a desperate request.
Somehow Julian seemed more dramatic than he remembered. If pressed, he wouldn’t have thought that possible. He remembered being small and watching the older boy in awe of his flailing, his willingness to just say and do whatever he felt. God, he was a weird kid back then.Just as useless now--
Shaking the thought out of his head, he stood and stretched. Ignoring his friend, he took a moment to greet his sister. Wrapping his arms around her a small knot of tension eased, knowing she was safe. He locked eyes with Luna, then Clover “Thanks.” For keeping her safe. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, even if he needed the information Julian provided him. And his friend was the safest way to get it.
Looking down at Barrow, he frowned, realizing how much the wolf did not enjoy his companion for the night. Kneeling level with him, he ran a hand over his flank, “Thanks for letting us stay.” He knew if he was truly against them, he’d have dragged them to another stall, or just leave them in the middle of the walkway.
Somehow Julian seemed more dramatic than he remembered. If pressed, he wouldn’t have thought that possible. He remembered being small and watching the older boy in awe of his flailing, his willingness to just say and do whatever he felt. God, he was a weird kid back then.
Shaking the thought out of his head, he stood and stretched. Ignoring his friend, he took a moment to greet his sister. Wrapping his arms around her a small knot of tension eased, knowing she was safe. He locked eyes with Luna, then Clover “Thanks.” For keeping her safe. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, even if he needed the information Julian provided him. And his friend was the safest way to get it.
Looking down at Barrow, he frowned, realizing how much the wolf did not enjoy his companion for the night. Kneeling level with him, he ran a hand over his flank, “Thanks for letting us stay.” He knew if he was truly against them, he’d have dragged them to another stall, or just leave them in the middle of the walkway.
Ayama
Enthusiast
Even in the midst of his horror at the current state of his hair and the threat that still hung over it in the form of the shears gripped in Antigone's grasp, Julian couldn't help but feel a marvelous warmth blossom in his chest at the sound of his two childhood friends' laughter.
It was as if the three of them were somehow right back there, before everything had come to light and gone to shit, and it made Julian at once happy and sad, in a nostalgic kind of way.
His reminiscing was cut short as his erstwhile friend shot a jet of water straight at his face, knocking him backwards onto the hard ground.
He parted a curtain of sopping wet hair to see the druids greeting each other and their animals, and felt left out again.
The rogue pushed himself to his feet and harrumphed pointedly, glaring at his former friends.
"I see you're both quite amused at my expense," he declared in his best spoiled brat voice, "and, while I thank you for the assistance, I must now go dry my clothes before I catch my death so, if you'll excuse me."
And with that he stalked past them with as much dignity as he could muster, dripping water onto the ground.
He made for the tavern's main room, where he dried himself by the fire as best he could before ordering breakfast and joining Aevar and the others at the table.
As he sat himself down among his new companions, he glanced around and asked "I don't suppose any of you are in possession of a comb?" without much hope that any of them would respond.
It was as if the three of them were somehow right back there, before everything had come to light and gone to shit, and it made Julian at once happy and sad, in a nostalgic kind of way.
His reminiscing was cut short as his erstwhile friend shot a jet of water straight at his face, knocking him backwards onto the hard ground.
He parted a curtain of sopping wet hair to see the druids greeting each other and their animals, and felt left out again.
The rogue pushed himself to his feet and harrumphed pointedly, glaring at his former friends.
"I see you're both quite amused at my expense," he declared in his best spoiled brat voice, "and, while I thank you for the assistance, I must now go dry my clothes before I catch my death so, if you'll excuse me."
And with that he stalked past them with as much dignity as he could muster, dripping water onto the ground.
He made for the tavern's main room, where he dried himself by the fire as best he could before ordering breakfast and joining Aevar and the others at the table.
As he sat himself down among his new companions, he glanced around and asked "I don't suppose any of you are in possession of a comb?" without much hope that any of them would respond.
Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
As soon as the food was put in front of her, Aenwyn began to eat. She ignored Mr. Tinca-Knight. He’d survived this long, he could eat without prompting. Not trusting the same of her patient, she glared at the slip of a girl, then back down to her plate, willing her to eat without having to say anything. Not that it’d stop her, but it would stop her quest to stuff her face with these surprisingly good eggs.
She noticed the knight from last night come in, covered in mud. She was probably whacking Mr. Talkative with a stick of some form, in what Aenwyn had heard claimed as training. But she knew better; there was too much enjoyment from at least one of the participants to count. At least Myara was equal to the elf. Aenwyn hated it when a bunch of beginners had to come to her for healing after some ‘training.’
She gave the knight a nod when she sat down, surprised to hear her speak immediately. Pointing a fork at her patient, she interrupted with, “Eat and talk.” Nimue was frail enough to have missed meals before. Aenwyn wondered if she lost time often with her fits. And for how long? She'd be willing to go on this quest just to study the mysteries surrounding the girl.
Returning her attention to Myara, she admitted she was surprised to hear she and her charge were likely to come, even without speaking to Nimue. What did they find in that journal that changed their minds? And how did this prophetess add the information? (Because surely Mr. Talkative would already know what was in the journal.) “What was new in the journal to convince you so strongly?”
Before she could get an answer, the rogue from the night before joined. Yay, another one. Maybe it was fate. "Are you wet?" She spoke in horror, knowing the answer, but why? He smelt of the stables. How much had he drunk last night for them to toss him in there with the bear and wolf let alone the druids? Well, he survived, that's what mattered. "Don't you get sick too."
She noticed the knight from last night come in, covered in mud. She was probably whacking Mr. Talkative with a stick of some form, in what Aenwyn had heard claimed as training. But she knew better; there was too much enjoyment from at least one of the participants to count. At least Myara was equal to the elf. Aenwyn hated it when a bunch of beginners had to come to her for healing after some ‘training.’
She gave the knight a nod when she sat down, surprised to hear her speak immediately. Pointing a fork at her patient, she interrupted with, “Eat and talk.” Nimue was frail enough to have missed meals before. Aenwyn wondered if she lost time often with her fits. And for how long? She'd be willing to go on this quest just to study the mysteries surrounding the girl.
Returning her attention to Myara, she admitted she was surprised to hear she and her charge were likely to come, even without speaking to Nimue. What did they find in that journal that changed their minds? And how did this prophetess add the information? (Because surely Mr. Talkative would already know what was in the journal.) “What was new in the journal to convince you so strongly?”
Before she could get an answer, the rogue from the night before joined. Yay, another one. Maybe it was fate. "Are you wet?" She spoke in horror, knowing the answer, but why? He smelt of the stables. How much had he drunk last night for them to toss him in there with the bear and wolf let alone the druids? Well, he survived, that's what mattered. "Don't you get sick too."
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Caffeinated Joy
When the going gets tough, the tough get coffee
The True Sovereign - Vail Fairfax Altaine
Location: Yard behind the tavern, his room, then at the table with others
With: first Marnie, then aevar, Julian, Myara, Nimue and Aenwyn
Vail watched Myara push herself up off the muddy ground with the staff and stride inside without a backwards glance. He was grateful to her for stepping in and giving him the fight he needed, and the following laughter. He could count the times on one hand he'd seen her smile over the past few months, and even fewer times he'd heard her laugh. It was a pity. Life shouldn't always be so serious.
He sat quitely for a moment, then sighed and gave Marnie's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and standing up. Their sparring had churned the tavern's back yard into a muddy mess, and considering the weather they'd had over the past few weeks, it would only get worse. He looked down at his mud splattered clothing and laughed softly, shaking his head. It was a good thing he had more than one spare set of clothes, or he'd have to change into his still damp clothing from yesterday.
"I need to get cleaned up, Marnie." He said gently, smiling down at her. "This his is a big shock to you. It is to me too, believe me, especially since we've only just found each other again. it doesn't seem real, does it? I will do my best to explain what I can, but," he gestured to his mud splattered hair and clothes with an sweeping gesture and an arched brow, "let me deal with this first, then I'll meet you inside with everyone else. They'll all want to know this too."
He strode over to where he'd stabbed Kingmaker into the ground and pulled it out, pausing briefly as he, once again, felt a brief surge of something like glee vibrate through the hilt, then crossed the yard to where his cloak and his father's journal sat and stooped to pick them up. Giving Marnie a final smile, he went inside, trying to not drip mud everywhere. Vail spotted his companions at a table (Julian was pouting while fussing with his hair) and nodded a greeting at them as he hurried up the stairs and down the hall toward his room.
An old human woman with a face amazingly full of wrinkles and an armful of linens passed him, and stopped, her eyes wide. "Are ye hurt milord?"
Vail smiled and shook his head. "No, but my apologies for the state of your back yard. My friend and I did some sparring. Um...do you think I might get some water to wash my clothes, please?"
"Oh, I kin do that fer ye, milord. 'T'is no trouble since I'm doin' the linens anyway, an' is cheaper than askin' fer buckets o' water. I'll do it fer a single copper, and if the rest o' yer party needs washin' I'll do at no extra charge." She bobbed a quick curtsey and smiled up at him, incredibly deepening the creases on her face.
"That's very kind and generous of you." Vail nodded. "All right. Thank you very much." he pointed to his door. "Give me a moment."
He entered his room and, after closing the door, crossed to his bag and pulled out his last set of clothing, a green wool shirt and black linen breeches, then quickly changed into them. He pulled the door open and handed the muddy bundle to the old laundress, along with a couple of copper coins. "Thank you, and please, accept the extra I offer. I don't imagine any of my group will have easy to clean clothing, considering the muddy mess outside. There are nine of us, after all."
"Oh, milord, you are a kind man indeed. Thank ye." The laundress bobbed another quick curtsey and hurried off.
Vail went back into his room and used the basin of water there to clean the mud out of his hair. He gently squeezed the excess water out and ran his fingers through it to get the worst of the tangles out before using his comb on it a section at a time. When he was done, he used the rags of the blue shirt his mother made him to brush the now dried mud from his boots, then pulled them on, wiggling his toes. His glanced flickered over to his armour, gleaming in the corner after he spent a good while cleaning it last night, and sighed softly. It was the armour the King of Kalais wore. How was it possible it fit him perfectly? He could understand being of a similar build to his father and grandfather, but exactly? He approached it and laid his palm on the breastplate. There. Faintly. Magic. How did he not feel it before? He couldn't do magic, as far as he knew, but he'd always been very sensitive to it. If there was any in his armour, how did it stay hidden from him? There was so much he did understand, or know.
He took a breath and released it in a quick burst of air. Maybe Marnie could help him figure it out. In the meantime, he owed everyone downstairs some kind of explanation. All the lessons in politics, combat, and everything else his father taught him suddenly made a lot more sense. He turned and spotted his comb, thinking of Julian petulantly trying to fix his, he crossed the room to grab it before picking up his father's journal and heading downstairs.
Vail sat down at the table were the bulk of his companions sat, wordlessly placing his comb on the table in front of Julian with a nod. He caught the eye of a server and gestured to Aenywn's plate, indicating he wanted the same, then turned to everyone.
"Good morning, everyone. First of all, Nimue, I owe you an apology for not listening to you. Whether you were right or wrong, I could have treated you with better grace and manners." Vail lifted the journal. "This is my father's jounal. I've had it since fleeing Selone, but haven't read it, for valid reasons. I read some this morning and it confirms what you claimed last night." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I am the True Sovereign. Oh, and the laundress here has agreed to do our laundering for us, an offer she may come to regret."
Location: Yard behind the tavern, his room, then at the table with others
With: first Marnie, then aevar, Julian, Myara, Nimue and Aenwyn
Vail watched Myara push herself up off the muddy ground with the staff and stride inside without a backwards glance. He was grateful to her for stepping in and giving him the fight he needed, and the following laughter. He could count the times on one hand he'd seen her smile over the past few months, and even fewer times he'd heard her laugh. It was a pity. Life shouldn't always be so serious.
He sat quitely for a moment, then sighed and gave Marnie's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and standing up. Their sparring had churned the tavern's back yard into a muddy mess, and considering the weather they'd had over the past few weeks, it would only get worse. He looked down at his mud splattered clothing and laughed softly, shaking his head. It was a good thing he had more than one spare set of clothes, or he'd have to change into his still damp clothing from yesterday.
"I need to get cleaned up, Marnie." He said gently, smiling down at her. "This his is a big shock to you. It is to me too, believe me, especially since we've only just found each other again. it doesn't seem real, does it? I will do my best to explain what I can, but," he gestured to his mud splattered hair and clothes with an sweeping gesture and an arched brow, "let me deal with this first, then I'll meet you inside with everyone else. They'll all want to know this too."
He strode over to where he'd stabbed Kingmaker into the ground and pulled it out, pausing briefly as he, once again, felt a brief surge of something like glee vibrate through the hilt, then crossed the yard to where his cloak and his father's journal sat and stooped to pick them up. Giving Marnie a final smile, he went inside, trying to not drip mud everywhere. Vail spotted his companions at a table (Julian was pouting while fussing with his hair) and nodded a greeting at them as he hurried up the stairs and down the hall toward his room.
An old human woman with a face amazingly full of wrinkles and an armful of linens passed him, and stopped, her eyes wide. "Are ye hurt milord?"
Vail smiled and shook his head. "No, but my apologies for the state of your back yard. My friend and I did some sparring. Um...do you think I might get some water to wash my clothes, please?"
"Oh, I kin do that fer ye, milord. 'T'is no trouble since I'm doin' the linens anyway, an' is cheaper than askin' fer buckets o' water. I'll do it fer a single copper, and if the rest o' yer party needs washin' I'll do at no extra charge." She bobbed a quick curtsey and smiled up at him, incredibly deepening the creases on her face.
"That's very kind and generous of you." Vail nodded. "All right. Thank you very much." he pointed to his door. "Give me a moment."
He entered his room and, after closing the door, crossed to his bag and pulled out his last set of clothing, a green wool shirt and black linen breeches, then quickly changed into them. He pulled the door open and handed the muddy bundle to the old laundress, along with a couple of copper coins. "Thank you, and please, accept the extra I offer. I don't imagine any of my group will have easy to clean clothing, considering the muddy mess outside. There are nine of us, after all."
"Oh, milord, you are a kind man indeed. Thank ye." The laundress bobbed another quick curtsey and hurried off.
Vail went back into his room and used the basin of water there to clean the mud out of his hair. He gently squeezed the excess water out and ran his fingers through it to get the worst of the tangles out before using his comb on it a section at a time. When he was done, he used the rags of the blue shirt his mother made him to brush the now dried mud from his boots, then pulled them on, wiggling his toes. His glanced flickered over to his armour, gleaming in the corner after he spent a good while cleaning it last night, and sighed softly. It was the armour the King of Kalais wore. How was it possible it fit him perfectly? He could understand being of a similar build to his father and grandfather, but exactly? He approached it and laid his palm on the breastplate. There. Faintly. Magic. How did he not feel it before? He couldn't do magic, as far as he knew, but he'd always been very sensitive to it. If there was any in his armour, how did it stay hidden from him? There was so much he did understand, or know.
He took a breath and released it in a quick burst of air. Maybe Marnie could help him figure it out. In the meantime, he owed everyone downstairs some kind of explanation. All the lessons in politics, combat, and everything else his father taught him suddenly made a lot more sense. He turned and spotted his comb, thinking of Julian petulantly trying to fix his, he crossed the room to grab it before picking up his father's journal and heading downstairs.
Vail sat down at the table were the bulk of his companions sat, wordlessly placing his comb on the table in front of Julian with a nod. He caught the eye of a server and gestured to Aenywn's plate, indicating he wanted the same, then turned to everyone.
"Good morning, everyone. First of all, Nimue, I owe you an apology for not listening to you. Whether you were right or wrong, I could have treated you with better grace and manners." Vail lifted the journal. "This is my father's jounal. I've had it since fleeing Selone, but haven't read it, for valid reasons. I read some this morning and it confirms what you claimed last night." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I am the True Sovereign. Oh, and the laundress here has agreed to do our laundering for us, an offer she may come to regret."
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DeepBlue
New Member
Marnie’s eyes swept up and down at Vail, finally taking in his mud caked head and overalls. The sight stirred a distant childhood memory, and gave her a chuckle. “You still haven’t outgrown from mud fights,” she remarked, and gave him a light shove, “Fine, have a change. I’ll wait for you with others.”
The last sentence felt strange to Marnie. She spoke so calmly, that she didn’t believe herself. A part of her didn’t think she will see Vail again. Of course he would. Vail would only be going upstairs in the tavern for a change of clothes. They’re still the same building. Yet, the last farewell she had with him had been just as ordinary - ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’. That tomorrow never came. How could she be certain that something wouldn’t happen in these moments?
Reluctantly, she watched him disappear up the stairs. With Vail gone, she became acutely aware of other patrons. She could feel their quick glances, and hear the familiar derogatory whispers.
‘Should count your coin before she leaves,’ said an old man to the bartender.
Marnie pulled up her hood, and sank into an empty seat at the table. “Are you feeling better?” she asked Nimue. Now staring at the young woman, in a new light. She had only read of stories of those who could see the future. Her master had a low opinion of them, that they were mere quacks. However, Nimue had proved to be correct, that Vail is the True Sovereign. Whether she could see the future or not, Nimue already had shown she has the ability to see a truth that has been hidden for decades.
The last sentence felt strange to Marnie. She spoke so calmly, that she didn’t believe herself. A part of her didn’t think she will see Vail again. Of course he would. Vail would only be going upstairs in the tavern for a change of clothes. They’re still the same building. Yet, the last farewell she had with him had been just as ordinary - ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’. That tomorrow never came. How could she be certain that something wouldn’t happen in these moments?
Reluctantly, she watched him disappear up the stairs. With Vail gone, she became acutely aware of other patrons. She could feel their quick glances, and hear the familiar derogatory whispers.
‘Should count your coin before she leaves,’ said an old man to the bartender.
Marnie pulled up her hood, and sank into an empty seat at the table. “Are you feeling better?” she asked Nimue. Now staring at the young woman, in a new light. She had only read of stories of those who could see the future. Her master had a low opinion of them, that they were mere quacks. However, Nimue had proved to be correct, that Vail is the True Sovereign. Whether she could see the future or not, Nimue already had shown she has the ability to see a truth that has been hidden for decades.
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Caffeinated Joy
When the going gets tough, the tough get coffee
The Female Druid - Antigone
Location: Stables, then the table with everyone
Mood: So amused, her gut aches
The sight of Agathon's jet of water hitting Julian in the dead centre of his face and knocking him ass over teakettle brought a fresh wave of helpless laughter bubbling forth. She dropped the hoof nippers and hunched over, wiping at the tears streaming from her eyes. She felt her brother's arms, and returned his hug, grateful he had decided to follow her the day they ran away.
"Aggie, that was a work of art. Thank you." Antigone wiped her eyes and leaned back. "The only good thing our parents ever did was have us."
Julian's peevish voice cut in, "I see you're both quite amused at my expense, and, while I thank you for the assistance, I must now go dry my clothes before I catch my death so, if you'll excuse me."
Antigone bit her lip as Julian strode past with every last scrap of dignitiy he could muster, water dripping from his hair, his eyelashes, his nose and his chin. "Oh, come on, Julian. You know it's funny. Admit it!" She called after his retreating back, "If it had been anyone but you, you'd be howling."
She shook her head as he left the stables without a backwards glance. "Is it just me, or did that man turn into a princess?" She asked Agathon, chuckling, and swept her long, ragged looking braid over her shoulder. Her fingers quickly undid the crimson plaits, smoothing down the strands of flyaway hair as she went, and then redid it. "Ah, well. We should head in and find out what everyone's doing next, don't you think? I could eat breakfast, cooked by someone else for once. Eggs and sausage with bread and tea."
She looked at Barrow and Luna, "You two stay put. I'm sorry you can't come in." She reached down to give them both a rub along their jowls, then clapped Aggie's shoulder and went into the tavern, easily spotting everyone sitting around the table.
She stopped a servant and order breakfast for herself and Aggie, then sat down, listening to Vail softly confirm he was the True Sovereign. She looked at Nimue, her slight frame swallowed by the too-big-for-her clothing she wore, then around at everyone else at the table for their reactions.
Location: Stables, then the table with everyone
Mood: So amused, her gut aches
The sight of Agathon's jet of water hitting Julian in the dead centre of his face and knocking him ass over teakettle brought a fresh wave of helpless laughter bubbling forth. She dropped the hoof nippers and hunched over, wiping at the tears streaming from her eyes. She felt her brother's arms, and returned his hug, grateful he had decided to follow her the day they ran away.
"Aggie, that was a work of art. Thank you." Antigone wiped her eyes and leaned back. "The only good thing our parents ever did was have us."
Julian's peevish voice cut in, "I see you're both quite amused at my expense, and, while I thank you for the assistance, I must now go dry my clothes before I catch my death so, if you'll excuse me."
Antigone bit her lip as Julian strode past with every last scrap of dignitiy he could muster, water dripping from his hair, his eyelashes, his nose and his chin. "Oh, come on, Julian. You know it's funny. Admit it!" She called after his retreating back, "If it had been anyone but you, you'd be howling."
She shook her head as he left the stables without a backwards glance. "Is it just me, or did that man turn into a princess?" She asked Agathon, chuckling, and swept her long, ragged looking braid over her shoulder. Her fingers quickly undid the crimson plaits, smoothing down the strands of flyaway hair as she went, and then redid it. "Ah, well. We should head in and find out what everyone's doing next, don't you think? I could eat breakfast, cooked by someone else for once. Eggs and sausage with bread and tea."
She looked at Barrow and Luna, "You two stay put. I'm sorry you can't come in." She reached down to give them both a rub along their jowls, then clapped Aggie's shoulder and went into the tavern, easily spotting everyone sitting around the table.
She stopped a servant and order breakfast for herself and Aggie, then sat down, listening to Vail softly confirm he was the True Sovereign. She looked at Nimue, her slight frame swallowed by the too-big-for-her clothing she wore, then around at everyone else at the table for their reactions.
Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
Hearing his sister laugh—so much that he had to support her—lit a fire of warmth that seemed to reflect in her face. Even as Julian attempted to fizzle the joy with his pouting, Agathon couldn’t regret it. As Antigone commented on his princessly demeanor, in a soft voice, he added, “It’s not like it was mud.” Maybe he’d be more worried if he didn’t know that he could call every drop of water back to him, even now if he tried. He’d made that water, he’d remain connected to it for ages if he focused. Mere minutes and meters were nothing.
He waited patiently for her to finish her braid. Filling the time by relating what he’d learned about Aever and their parents: the update he could remember from Julian last night. “He seems to be more interested in revenge than getting back into her graces, so we shouldn’t have to worry there.”
Tugging on the braid twice to make sure it was secure, he forced a grin, remembering that warmth from before. He didn’t want to leave the security the stables brought, but he knew his sister was made for important things and refused to hold her back. He followed her into the cheerfully lit tavern, nodding his thanks to the servant before sitting down beside Antigone. He was unsurprised to hear Vail confirm his identity—he never doubted his sister, nor her connection to Mother Earth. The druids in the forest spoke of it being the strongest they’d ever seen. “So we’re together then?” For it was that simple to him. If this was the duty that was to be done, he'd support his sister every step of the way. With an absentminded flick of his fingers, he called the water he’d drenched Julian in back, letting it freeze into a bracelet around his own wrist until he could pour it out again.
He waited patiently for her to finish her braid. Filling the time by relating what he’d learned about Aever and their parents: the update he could remember from Julian last night. “He seems to be more interested in revenge than getting back into her graces, so we shouldn’t have to worry there.”
Tugging on the braid twice to make sure it was secure, he forced a grin, remembering that warmth from before. He didn’t want to leave the security the stables brought, but he knew his sister was made for important things and refused to hold her back. He followed her into the cheerfully lit tavern, nodding his thanks to the servant before sitting down beside Antigone. He was unsurprised to hear Vail confirm his identity—he never doubted his sister, nor her connection to Mother Earth. The druids in the forest spoke of it being the strongest they’d ever seen. “So we’re together then?” For it was that simple to him. If this was the duty that was to be done, he'd support his sister every step of the way. With an absentminded flick of his fingers, he called the water he’d drenched Julian in back, letting it freeze into a bracelet around his own wrist until he could pour it out again.
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Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
Valid reasons he refuses to share with us. Aenwyn rolled her eyes. Maybe he just hated his father and had enough angst to keep the journal with him. Whatever daddy issues aside, he was the true sovereign. He wasn’t entirely convincing, but the elf still remembered the power behind the druid. She may not be devout, but she would be a fool to ignore Mother Earth.
Still he was convincing enough to get the laundress to work for him (though perhaps coin was involved.) Traveling from town to town like she did, it was a rare enough opportunity that she’d take it. Also, “She’d likely know if we can get warmer clothes for you, Chickadee.” She gave a nod to the druids, her gaze sharpening as she watched the male draw the water from Mr. Pretty Boy’s face. He must have been the culprit. Surely the rogue wasn’t drunk enough to try anything with his sister (he wasn’t dead after all), but perhaps the druids still weren’t pleased to be greeted this morning with his pretty face. It was a wonder they didn’t hear squealing.
“I want to keep an eye on you, Nimue.” Dear little gods, I hope that was her name. “I’ve never removed a curse: a true one is rare, but I can mitigate its symptoms until we find a cure.” It would be an impressive feat. One that was worth following the idiots who would surely need to. All she wanted was to become the best healer possible. She’d assumed curses were out of her purview, but now that she’d come upon one it was a challenge she looked forward to. “Besides, I’ll keep the idiotic of you alive.”
Still he was convincing enough to get the laundress to work for him (though perhaps coin was involved.) Traveling from town to town like she did, it was a rare enough opportunity that she’d take it. Also, “She’d likely know if we can get warmer clothes for you, Chickadee.” She gave a nod to the druids, her gaze sharpening as she watched the male draw the water from Mr. Pretty Boy’s face. He must have been the culprit. Surely the rogue wasn’t drunk enough to try anything with his sister (he wasn’t dead after all), but perhaps the druids still weren’t pleased to be greeted this morning with his pretty face. It was a wonder they didn’t hear squealing.
“I want to keep an eye on you, Nimue.” Dear little gods, I hope that was her name. “I’ve never removed a curse: a true one is rare, but I can mitigate its symptoms until we find a cure.” It would be an impressive feat. One that was worth following the idiots who would surely need to. All she wanted was to become the best healer possible. She’d assumed curses were out of her purview, but now that she’d come upon one it was a challenge she looked forward to. “Besides, I’ll keep the idiotic of you alive.”
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Midnight Paragon
Savior of Dusk
The Bard - Kash
Kash laughed as he sprinted towards the large red and white tent. Today was a very special day; the day his father had brought him home. The small elf boy couldn't recall a proper birthday, but that didn't stop Aelon from wanting to celebrate something like it with him. He threw open the tent flaps to see his father and the rest of the carnies gathered around a huge table. There was a large cake sat upon it, candles blazing atop it, and his father reached down to scoop him up-
*SLAM*
Kash sat upward from his seat at the tavern bar with a start, the lavender hood from his cloak falling backward and revealing a head of golden hair. His tired eyes blinked several times before they settled on the bartender in front of him, who had slammed his hand on the countertop and roused him from his slumber.
He had been staying at this tavern the last couple of days, just trying to figure out where to go from here. While he was mainly just staying in his room, he came down late last night for a drink...and must have forgot to go back upstairs. He stifled a yawn as he addressed the annoyed looking man in front of him.
"Er, my apologies, good sir. I suppose I must've nodded off without realizing." He told him earnestly, adjusting his cloak somewhat as he did so. The barkeep merely grunted at the explanation, taking a rag and wiping up the small pool of drool the elf had left upon the counter.
"No problem. You ain't the first. Seemed pretty distraught; thought it be best to leave ya be." The barkeep told him curtly before continuing. "But you did ask for something in the morning before you blacked out. Even paid me in advance for it. Just came out of the oven, too."
Kash appeared surprised at the news; he certainly didn't remember asking for anything. "Is that so?" He asked. "Dare I ask what it might be?"
The barkeep smirked as he turned and went through a door to the side, coming back just as quickly...but in his hands was a silver platter, and on that platter sat the biggest sweet roll Kash had ever seen. It was easily four times the size of your average sweet roll and absolutely covered in a creamy glaze. He sat it down in front of Kash, whose eyes were as large as saucers, and chuckled at his expression. "Enjoy." He snickered, moving back into the kitchen.
Kash simply sat there for another minute, eyes wide and mouth open, as he tried to process what it was he was seeing. He then thrust his hands together and bowed his head in prayer. "May my future bride forgive me for saying so, but...this may very well be the happiest day of my life."
He then sat up straight and giddily grabbed a hold of his surprise breakfast...but that was where he made a grave mistake. See, the bar keep neglected to inform that his sweet was hot.
Very hot.
So much so, that when Kash put his hands on it to bring it to his lips, the heat of the sweet immediately made itself known, and in retaliation, Kash let out a pained screech and threw his hands upward, quickly blowing on them for a second before he asked himself; where was his sweet?
He looked up to spy his large sweet roll spinning comically in the air, and the instincts within Kash took over. The elf quickly jumped out of his seat, leaped upon a nearby table and bounded into the air. Time seemed to slow as his hands reached out to grasp his sweet, doughy princess and-
That's when he heard it. That name.
The True Sovereign.
Kash seemed to be suspended in midair as he turned his head to the side to see a group of people all sitting together, and that at the tables head was an elvish looking man, the one he had heard the name from!
Gravity then remembered that it was supposed to be working today, and then Kash, as well as his roll, both fell roughly and loudly to the ground. He was down there for a good five seconds before he sprang upward, unaware that his sweet roll now adorned his head like a lavish crown, and quickly approached the elvish man.
"D-Did you say True Sovereign? Y-You said that, didn't you!?" He exclaimed, his eyes as wide as they were a few minutes ago. As quick as a flash, he dug around inside his cloak and produced a piece of parchment. Upon it was an ornate looking seal, with elvish branches and a sword down its middle. Kash held it to the mans eyesight and pointed at it. "Please, do you know what this seal is? I'd be eternally grateful for any information you might have, sir! I-I can even pay for it! Please! Please say you know it!" He begged, the glaze of the sweet roll oozing down the side of his head without notice.
Kash laughed as he sprinted towards the large red and white tent. Today was a very special day; the day his father had brought him home. The small elf boy couldn't recall a proper birthday, but that didn't stop Aelon from wanting to celebrate something like it with him. He threw open the tent flaps to see his father and the rest of the carnies gathered around a huge table. There was a large cake sat upon it, candles blazing atop it, and his father reached down to scoop him up-
*SLAM*
Kash sat upward from his seat at the tavern bar with a start, the lavender hood from his cloak falling backward and revealing a head of golden hair. His tired eyes blinked several times before they settled on the bartender in front of him, who had slammed his hand on the countertop and roused him from his slumber.
He had been staying at this tavern the last couple of days, just trying to figure out where to go from here. While he was mainly just staying in his room, he came down late last night for a drink...and must have forgot to go back upstairs. He stifled a yawn as he addressed the annoyed looking man in front of him.
"Er, my apologies, good sir. I suppose I must've nodded off without realizing." He told him earnestly, adjusting his cloak somewhat as he did so. The barkeep merely grunted at the explanation, taking a rag and wiping up the small pool of drool the elf had left upon the counter.
"No problem. You ain't the first. Seemed pretty distraught; thought it be best to leave ya be." The barkeep told him curtly before continuing. "But you did ask for something in the morning before you blacked out. Even paid me in advance for it. Just came out of the oven, too."
Kash appeared surprised at the news; he certainly didn't remember asking for anything. "Is that so?" He asked. "Dare I ask what it might be?"
The barkeep smirked as he turned and went through a door to the side, coming back just as quickly...but in his hands was a silver platter, and on that platter sat the biggest sweet roll Kash had ever seen. It was easily four times the size of your average sweet roll and absolutely covered in a creamy glaze. He sat it down in front of Kash, whose eyes were as large as saucers, and chuckled at his expression. "Enjoy." He snickered, moving back into the kitchen.
Kash simply sat there for another minute, eyes wide and mouth open, as he tried to process what it was he was seeing. He then thrust his hands together and bowed his head in prayer. "May my future bride forgive me for saying so, but...this may very well be the happiest day of my life."
He then sat up straight and giddily grabbed a hold of his surprise breakfast...but that was where he made a grave mistake. See, the bar keep neglected to inform that his sweet was hot.
Very hot.
So much so, that when Kash put his hands on it to bring it to his lips, the heat of the sweet immediately made itself known, and in retaliation, Kash let out a pained screech and threw his hands upward, quickly blowing on them for a second before he asked himself; where was his sweet?
He looked up to spy his large sweet roll spinning comically in the air, and the instincts within Kash took over. The elf quickly jumped out of his seat, leaped upon a nearby table and bounded into the air. Time seemed to slow as his hands reached out to grasp his sweet, doughy princess and-
That's when he heard it. That name.
The True Sovereign.
Kash seemed to be suspended in midair as he turned his head to the side to see a group of people all sitting together, and that at the tables head was an elvish looking man, the one he had heard the name from!
Gravity then remembered that it was supposed to be working today, and then Kash, as well as his roll, both fell roughly and loudly to the ground. He was down there for a good five seconds before he sprang upward, unaware that his sweet roll now adorned his head like a lavish crown, and quickly approached the elvish man.
"D-Did you say True Sovereign? Y-You said that, didn't you!?" He exclaimed, his eyes as wide as they were a few minutes ago. As quick as a flash, he dug around inside his cloak and produced a piece of parchment. Upon it was an ornate looking seal, with elvish branches and a sword down its middle. Kash held it to the mans eyesight and pointed at it. "Please, do you know what this seal is? I'd be eternally grateful for any information you might have, sir! I-I can even pay for it! Please! Please say you know it!" He begged, the glaze of the sweet roll oozing down the side of his head without notice.
Ayama
Enthusiast
The Prince, the Prophet and the Healer were eating in taciturn silence to rival the Sellsword's own when the long-haired Thief from the previous night stomped into the tavern from the stables, looking irate.
He stalked over to the fire to dry himself before joining them and requesting a comb. With his long locks dripping water steadily onto the floor, he looked like a drowned rat, and Myara snorted into her coffee at the rogue's petulant tone, having no doubt that the druids must be responsible for his current miserable state.
When Aenwyn warned the thief not to get sick, the mercenary chuckled softly, knowing the healer would do her job even as she grumbled about people's stupidity. She nodded at Vail as he passed them, the corners of her lips twitching upwards again as he rejoined the group and wordlessly dropped his comb on the table before the thief.
She studied her companion as he spoke- he seemed to be doing much better, and the knot of worry she'd had at the pit of her stomach since the day before loosened.
When he leaned in conspiratorially to confirm Nimue's pronouncement, Myara rolled her eyes at the theatricality. The bit about the laundry elicited another smile though- Vail's ability to be charming around old ladies had its benefits; her clothes could do with a wash.
In short order, they were joined by Marnie and the druids, and their merry little band was complete. Julian had just finished brushing the tangles out of his bedraggled hair when Agathon drew all the water back to himself, leaving the rogue's mane with a degree of bounce and shine that simply should not be allowed.
As Aenwyn declared that she would remain by Nimue's side, Myara turned to her with interest. The healer's clinical enthusiasm for the nature of the prophet's ailment was apparent, though when she added as an afterthought that she would keep the rest of the idiots alive, the sellsword chuckled once more.
Good luck with that, she thought as she rolled her eyes with significance in Aenwyn's direction, I've had my hands full with just Vail, and I doubt there are enough of us to keep the rogue out of trouble no matter what we do.
At that moment, a youthful-looking elf with eyes remarkable enough to rival her own made a rather spectacular entrance by fairly falling at their feet and then springing back up as if propelled by some unseen force.
He made a beeline straight for Vail, his overly-large and sweet-smelling roll dripping a sugary glaze down the side of his head and into his bright blond hair, brandishing a piece of paper stamped with an ornate seal into her employer's face, demanding information.
In one fluid motion, the sellsword had stood up and knocked back her chair, materializing at the elf's side.
She was barely taller than he was, but strong enough to lift him bodily by the scruff of his well-made shirt a couple inches off the ground. Her longsword being currently upstairs with her armor, she slid a dagger out from under her tunic and held it to the elf's throat, crimson eyes boring into his mismatched ones.
"Who do you work for?" the mercenary menacingly intoned. Now that they knew Vail was the Heir of Kalais, there would no doubt be many people out to harm or otherwise take advantage of him, and her vigilance and suspicion had increased tenfold- she wasn't about to believe anyone approaching him on the basis of knowing his title could be trusted, no matter how innocent they might seem.
He stalked over to the fire to dry himself before joining them and requesting a comb. With his long locks dripping water steadily onto the floor, he looked like a drowned rat, and Myara snorted into her coffee at the rogue's petulant tone, having no doubt that the druids must be responsible for his current miserable state.
When Aenwyn warned the thief not to get sick, the mercenary chuckled softly, knowing the healer would do her job even as she grumbled about people's stupidity. She nodded at Vail as he passed them, the corners of her lips twitching upwards again as he rejoined the group and wordlessly dropped his comb on the table before the thief.
She studied her companion as he spoke- he seemed to be doing much better, and the knot of worry she'd had at the pit of her stomach since the day before loosened.
When he leaned in conspiratorially to confirm Nimue's pronouncement, Myara rolled her eyes at the theatricality. The bit about the laundry elicited another smile though- Vail's ability to be charming around old ladies had its benefits; her clothes could do with a wash.
In short order, they were joined by Marnie and the druids, and their merry little band was complete. Julian had just finished brushing the tangles out of his bedraggled hair when Agathon drew all the water back to himself, leaving the rogue's mane with a degree of bounce and shine that simply should not be allowed.
As Aenwyn declared that she would remain by Nimue's side, Myara turned to her with interest. The healer's clinical enthusiasm for the nature of the prophet's ailment was apparent, though when she added as an afterthought that she would keep the rest of the idiots alive, the sellsword chuckled once more.
Good luck with that, she thought as she rolled her eyes with significance in Aenwyn's direction, I've had my hands full with just Vail, and I doubt there are enough of us to keep the rogue out of trouble no matter what we do.
At that moment, a youthful-looking elf with eyes remarkable enough to rival her own made a rather spectacular entrance by fairly falling at their feet and then springing back up as if propelled by some unseen force.
He made a beeline straight for Vail, his overly-large and sweet-smelling roll dripping a sugary glaze down the side of his head and into his bright blond hair, brandishing a piece of paper stamped with an ornate seal into her employer's face, demanding information.
In one fluid motion, the sellsword had stood up and knocked back her chair, materializing at the elf's side.
She was barely taller than he was, but strong enough to lift him bodily by the scruff of his well-made shirt a couple inches off the ground. Her longsword being currently upstairs with her armor, she slid a dagger out from under her tunic and held it to the elf's throat, crimson eyes boring into his mismatched ones.
"Who do you work for?" the mercenary menacingly intoned. Now that they knew Vail was the Heir of Kalais, there would no doubt be many people out to harm or otherwise take advantage of him, and her vigilance and suspicion had increased tenfold- she wasn't about to believe anyone approaching him on the basis of knowing his title could be trusted, no matter how innocent they might seem.
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Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
His mind had begun to wander, but it did return when everyone started talking one after another. By the time he had finished sponging up the last of his soup with the last of his bread, an elf had appeared, apparently having over heard Vail speaking about being the True Sovereign. They couldn't be having none of that now.
"How about you run along, little boy." He said simply, dusting the crumbs off his hands and nonchalantly resting a hand on his axe. "It ain't polite to eavesdrop." And it seemed the so far silent swordswoman was also on the same page as him. Though she had been much more direct than him. This whole thing would bring attention to themselves. To much attention, if anyone would care to ask his opinion. Better to simply shoo the man away with a discreetly hidden threat than to hold a knife to his throat and demanding who he worked for. They had only just learned Vail was the True Sovereign, he doubted anyone else did as well.
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Caffeinated Joy
When the going gets tough, the tough get coffee
]The True Sovereign - Vail Fairfax Altaine
Location: Tavern
With: everyone
Mood: wishing he could sit and eat a meal without someone causing a scene
Vail took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked around the table at everyone, gauging their reactions, ranging from self satisfied smiles, annoyed eye rolls and everything in between. All the mysteries and unanswered questions about the endless lessons on things he'd never need to know as a villager of Selone were starting to make sense. He would never need them as a villager of Selone, but as a the King of Kalais? He placed a hand on the journal, tracing a finger over the elvish words inscribed on the tattered leather cover. Not for the first time, he wished his father was here, or someone who knew him and could answer the hundreds of questions he had running through his head. He felt a small bubble of grief well up in his chest and resolutely shoved it down. Later. Not now.
Taking a fortifying breath, he looked up again and opened his mouth to try offering a better explanation about everything he'd read, when young blond elf crashed the ground near their table and sprang to his feet, dripping pastry and icing from his hair. Vail reflexively stood and stepped to one side, his hand sliding to the pommel of Kingmaker at the same time the young elf bounced back upright and thrust a parchment at him, speaking rather loudly about him being the True Sovereign and begging him to identify the seal there. He held up a placating hand and placed the index finger of his other hand up to his lips in a shushing gesture. Bloody elven hearing. Now there's a something I didn't expect to ever think. "Now, let's not go about screaming this to the heav-"
Then Myara was blocking him, as best as she could. He looked down at the top of her head and sighed heavily as she hauled the stranger off his feet and held a knife to his throat, then sighed again when Aevar, albeit a lot more subtly, threatened him as well. "Oh, by the spirits of my ancestors, Myara, put him down. Can we not make a scene, and hope no one was paying enough attention to overhear this fellow's outburst? I hardly think anyone has had time to send out assassins yet, since I didn't even know until just this morning."He held up a placating hand, "I appreciate your concern, my friend. Truly." He smiled. "This is not one of those situations where it is best to stab first and ask questions later."
Location: Tavern
With: everyone
Mood: wishing he could sit and eat a meal without someone causing a scene
Vail took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked around the table at everyone, gauging their reactions, ranging from self satisfied smiles, annoyed eye rolls and everything in between. All the mysteries and unanswered questions about the endless lessons on things he'd never need to know as a villager of Selone were starting to make sense. He would never need them as a villager of Selone, but as a the King of Kalais? He placed a hand on the journal, tracing a finger over the elvish words inscribed on the tattered leather cover. Not for the first time, he wished his father was here, or someone who knew him and could answer the hundreds of questions he had running through his head. He felt a small bubble of grief well up in his chest and resolutely shoved it down. Later. Not now.
Taking a fortifying breath, he looked up again and opened his mouth to try offering a better explanation about everything he'd read, when young blond elf crashed the ground near their table and sprang to his feet, dripping pastry and icing from his hair. Vail reflexively stood and stepped to one side, his hand sliding to the pommel of Kingmaker at the same time the young elf bounced back upright and thrust a parchment at him, speaking rather loudly about him being the True Sovereign and begging him to identify the seal there. He held up a placating hand and placed the index finger of his other hand up to his lips in a shushing gesture. Bloody elven hearing. Now there's a something I didn't expect to ever think. "Now, let's not go about screaming this to the heav-"
Then Myara was blocking him, as best as she could. He looked down at the top of her head and sighed heavily as she hauled the stranger off his feet and held a knife to his throat, then sighed again when Aevar, albeit a lot more subtly, threatened him as well. "Oh, by the spirits of my ancestors, Myara, put him down. Can we not make a scene, and hope no one was paying enough attention to overhear this fellow's outburst? I hardly think anyone has had time to send out assassins yet, since I didn't even know until just this morning."He held up a placating hand, "I appreciate your concern, my friend. Truly." He smiled. "This is not one of those situations where it is best to stab first and ask questions later."
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Lost Echo
🏳️🌈
“For Gaia’s sake, what is wrong with you people?!” Aenwyn burst out, dismayed at the reactions. Her focus never strayed from the blade against the newcomer’s neck. Even as something thick and white dripped down onto it. (Wha?) She believed that Myara was skilled enough not to jump at the noise, but just in case, green began to gather at her fingertips in preparation. That would be a wound she’d be hard-pressed to heal fully in time. Sure, she would save his life, but his voice? Possibly how well he breathed? Each second that passed would lower the chance of those. The woman, who’d seemed so sensible the night before, would not be used to relying on her skill to heal: the threat was real.
The idiot had heard the great secret, but excluding idiots, almost everyone believed the true sovereign to be a myth. A fantasy that it didn’t pay to focus on when real life’s sufferings were renewed each day. They were all aware this world was what we all were stuck with. Aenwyn might have believed Mother Earth, but the principle was still the same. And this overreaction would make it very difficult to convince him they were talking about a play or some bullshit. Let alone the rest of the room. Let the meatheads deal with that problem. They caused it.
Hers was still that blade. “It’s never best” She included air quotes to show how ridiculous this was. “to stab first. Put. The. Knife. Down.” At least everything this ‘true sovereign suggested was to calm this situation. There were obviously worse options to be had. The longer the blade stayed out, the more concerned the healer grew. Sure, the guy covered in dead animals threatened him, but at least that was with words. “Talking. That’s what you do first. Doesn’t require much of anything.” Except vocal cords, which this guy might still be losing. "I get you don't do it much," No one who was that expressive with their eyebrows talked much. "but how about you let Mr. Talkative have a go?"
The idiot had heard the great secret, but excluding idiots, almost everyone believed the true sovereign to be a myth. A fantasy that it didn’t pay to focus on when real life’s sufferings were renewed each day. They were all aware this world was what we all were stuck with. Aenwyn might have believed Mother Earth, but the principle was still the same. And this overreaction would make it very difficult to convince him they were talking about a play or some bullshit. Let alone the rest of the room. Let the meatheads deal with that problem. They caused it.
Hers was still that blade. “It’s never best” She included air quotes to show how ridiculous this was. “to stab first. Put. The. Knife. Down.” At least everything this ‘true sovereign suggested was to calm this situation. There were obviously worse options to be had. The longer the blade stayed out, the more concerned the healer grew. Sure, the guy covered in dead animals threatened him, but at least that was with words. “Talking. That’s what you do first. Doesn’t require much of anything.” Except vocal cords, which this guy might still be losing. "I get you don't do it much," No one who was that expressive with their eyebrows talked much. "but how about you let Mr. Talkative have a go?"
Ayama
Enthusiast
When Aenwyn asked him if he was wet, Julian glared at her with undisguised annoyance. She admonished him not to get sick but, despite his complaint to the druids, the rogue was actually far more concerned with the state of his head than whether or not he would end up catching something because of it.
He watched the mountain elf pass their table and nod at them before heading upstairs and wondered, watching that long dark mane disappearing around the corner, if the elf might be his only hope.
He came back down looking as fresh as his grim companion and, much to Julian's delight, placed a comb on the table in front of him with another nod. The thief immediately set to work untangling his hair, even as the elf admitted to being the True Sovereign.
He automatically glanced over at Aevar, though his friend's stony expression remained unchanged- it took a lot to elicit much of a reaction from him these days; he'd probably get along well with Vail's grim-faced bodyguard.
Julian let out a sigh of relief when the question of laundry was brought up- if they were all about to go traipsing through the woods, he at least needed to start this journey with a fresh set of clothes.
By then, Marnie had rejoined the group, and Julian watched Antigone and Agathon striding over to the table. He harrumphed and looked pointedly away from them, a confusing mess of emotions bubbling up inside him as his frustration with being the butt of their jokes battled with his desire to make Antigone smile and laugh, even if it was at his expense.
He noticed her braid had been readjusted as well and, resisting the urge to stare with difficulty, he focused on his task instead. He had basically gotten his mane to an acceptable degree of orderliness when Agathon took the seat next to him and called back the water.
The thief put a disbelieving hand to his hair, noticing the astonishing softness.
"Can... can you do that anytime?" he asked his now-once-again friend. He'd used basically everything he could think of to make his hair as shiny as possible in the past, but one thing he'd never considered was druid magic.
At that moment, their cozy little group was interrupted by the arrival of a blond-haired elf who demanded to know if Vail had any information about some seal. Julian found it incredibly suspicious that this guy would just be showing up asking about that- a sentiment apparently shared by Vail's bodyguard, who materialized at the elf's side, pulling him up by the scruff of his neck and holding a knife to his throat.
Julian was less horrified by this (he'd had his share of knives held against his own throat, and had done the same to others on many occasions) than he was by the sight of the sweet bun dripping glaze onto the unfortunate elf's hair. If he doesn't wash that out immediately it will end up completely matted! he thought in horror.
When Vail pleaded with his companions not to make a scene, Julian though that it was a little late for that- even without the white-haired woman's response, the blond elf's ridiculous entrance had already drawn the eyes of the tavern's (admittedly few) customers their way.
As Aenwyn pleaded with the sellsword to release the elf, Julian thought their priority might be to have this conversation away from prying eyes and ears.
"How about we all grab our food and head upstairs to continue this, um, talk?" he suggested. "We can eat our breakfast and get our clothes laundered as we figure out what to do next without any more, um, interruptions."
He watched the mountain elf pass their table and nod at them before heading upstairs and wondered, watching that long dark mane disappearing around the corner, if the elf might be his only hope.
He came back down looking as fresh as his grim companion and, much to Julian's delight, placed a comb on the table in front of him with another nod. The thief immediately set to work untangling his hair, even as the elf admitted to being the True Sovereign.
He automatically glanced over at Aevar, though his friend's stony expression remained unchanged- it took a lot to elicit much of a reaction from him these days; he'd probably get along well with Vail's grim-faced bodyguard.
Julian let out a sigh of relief when the question of laundry was brought up- if they were all about to go traipsing through the woods, he at least needed to start this journey with a fresh set of clothes.
By then, Marnie had rejoined the group, and Julian watched Antigone and Agathon striding over to the table. He harrumphed and looked pointedly away from them, a confusing mess of emotions bubbling up inside him as his frustration with being the butt of their jokes battled with his desire to make Antigone smile and laugh, even if it was at his expense.
He noticed her braid had been readjusted as well and, resisting the urge to stare with difficulty, he focused on his task instead. He had basically gotten his mane to an acceptable degree of orderliness when Agathon took the seat next to him and called back the water.
The thief put a disbelieving hand to his hair, noticing the astonishing softness.
"Can... can you do that anytime?" he asked his now-once-again friend. He'd used basically everything he could think of to make his hair as shiny as possible in the past, but one thing he'd never considered was druid magic.
At that moment, their cozy little group was interrupted by the arrival of a blond-haired elf who demanded to know if Vail had any information about some seal. Julian found it incredibly suspicious that this guy would just be showing up asking about that- a sentiment apparently shared by Vail's bodyguard, who materialized at the elf's side, pulling him up by the scruff of his neck and holding a knife to his throat.
Julian was less horrified by this (he'd had his share of knives held against his own throat, and had done the same to others on many occasions) than he was by the sight of the sweet bun dripping glaze onto the unfortunate elf's hair. If he doesn't wash that out immediately it will end up completely matted! he thought in horror.
When Vail pleaded with his companions not to make a scene, Julian though that it was a little late for that- even without the white-haired woman's response, the blond elf's ridiculous entrance had already drawn the eyes of the tavern's (admittedly few) customers their way.
As Aenwyn pleaded with the sellsword to release the elf, Julian thought their priority might be to have this conversation away from prying eyes and ears.
"How about we all grab our food and head upstairs to continue this, um, talk?" he suggested. "We can eat our breakfast and get our clothes laundered as we figure out what to do next without any more, um, interruptions."
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