The Queen's Madness (Open)


Amunet was able to retrieve a room last minute. There had been so much going on which irritated her. Don't mind her when she is like that. The woman woke up from a mixture of ailments. The normal scorching pain of needing to feed aroused her from sleep. A groan emitted from her lips as she heard some noises a few rooms down. Scrunching her eyes as she pulled the cover more over her head as she listened more. There was someone crying. Amunet curled up in a fetal position trying to ignore that feeling. The woman didn't like it at all. The tugging of crying she heard tried to make her feel that itself. Biting her lower lip as per habit and drew a small incision on her lower lip causing a small droplet or two of blood to escape. The momentary pain brought her back to her senses. Focusing on not wanting to see what that was about. It isn't any of her business to know. The dull ache of needing to feed became the first thought in mind. Amunet waited for a few seconds to pass as she settled her own mind.


Calm now she moved languidly as she tried to push aside the cover. Moving up into a sitting position as she then stood heading to the wash basin to rinse her face. The thing about her is that she doesn't have bad breath which is always a plus for a being like her. Reaching for a cloth to dab her face dry as she gazed at her reflection in the looking glass. Her hair was a mess from sleep. Feigning a sigh she set the cloth down to reach for her brush and attacked at her hair.


-Sometime later.-


Amunet would stay for the night once more so she left her things within the room and locked it. She fixed her hair and changed clothing, and then fixed about her room. Everything was in place the way she liked it. Today her hair was all down falling to the small of her back. A simple gown of light blue was chosen with black filigree on the hem or arm sleeves. Same flats, and the dress was pretty similar to the one of last night. Tonight she would have to listen because this is the only place within miles around. Hopefully someone would come in that she can take a little from just to hold over until she moved on to another village. A hand raised to tuck away some auburn strands as she made her way down the hall to head towards the inn. She would be out of place. Maybe sit by the fire and see if they have books. She can play the part of quiet reader very well.


Amunet didn't know anyone around or this place. She just needed to recuperate for a little until she felt the need to move on. She never stayed long in one place to be known. The further she was distracted from the sounds upstairs the better she wouldn't have to see what that commotion was about. The hearing was sometimes a nuisance to her. Oh well she is used to it being of what she is. It is just depending on the emotion that is really raw that tries to draw her in. Amunet didn't want to be close to anyone.
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Ciara sighed as she clutched at a soaking leather bag, slamming it down on a table within the tavern. Her lover was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't care, she only wanted the presence of one man; Gareth. The woman would smirk at the bag and take a quick seat in a nearby chair, which creaked at the past abuse that was carrying drunkards with beer guts. Mesmerized, Ciara fondled her golden mask in her hands, awaiting the arrival of her hired aid.


@Beowulf


(Sorry, I'm using a tablet and can't type as much as I'd like to)
 



  • Joyce returned to the tavern the following morning; her search for information yielded little results. She yawned as she opened the front door, "Bloody waste of time.", she grumbled as she rubbed her weary eyes. She wondered slowly through the tavern towards her bedroom, when she heard someone sobbing.


    Joyce quickly drew her famitsu as she realized the sobs belonged to Emmony. She carefully drew back an arrow as she silently crossed the tavern. She approaches the room in which she hears the sobs coming from, and upon seeing a glint, she releases the arrow.


    Joyce's arrow strikes the vase, shattering it, as she enters the room with both daggers drawn. She let's a sigh of relief, as she sheaths her daggers, and embraces Emmony, "You had me worried that someone was being rough with you love.", she wipes Emmony's eyes gently with a handkerchief.


 
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The Obsidian Executioner

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The wood chair groaned as the massive figure on top leaned forward to turn the thin, crumpled page in front of him. The words upon the page were little more then incomprehensible scribbles and the information they contained was near worthless The report he had gotten from the two 'soldiers' he had dispatched to the... repulsive tavern in the city was... lacking, to say the least. They had given the barest of attention to the men that had entered, when they had entered or when they left, but, of course, they had devoted large spaces to the women present such as this 'Emmony'. The only useful thing he had gleaned from the very... interesting section was that she, along with her brother whose name they had not bothered to list, was the owner.


Asavar moved his hand from the desk to tap against his plated leg, the soft 'clank' echoing through the dim stone room where he had been all night as his actions yesterday had set him back on his already great workload. A small stack of papers lay at the top, work he had already completed which included a list of guards that normally attended the... Tavern given orders to report what they see back as well as orders to send out the three platoons and the orders for the border lords to support them... while a much, much larger stack lay on the other side, work he had yet to finish. With his Queen... sick, Asavar had taken over much of her former duties... and the duties of her advisers that she had dismissed. In the list to be done lay financial reports from the various cities and farms that lay scattered around the kingdom, various request of permits, village charters, even more request that were meant for the Queen but, instead, redirected to him. On the ground, tucked into multiple neat piles, various letters and missives from the nobles of the land, the vast quantity of them filled with minor grievances or posturing covering up request, barely worth his time and so they lay forgotten.


Picking up the pile of paper, Asavar rose to stand, the morning sun spilling through the window announcing that he had to make good on his other duties, such as leading the small patrol, and while he would never admit such, a small part of him was relieved to get away from the growing tower of bureaucracy. The second the chair let lose a whine, an old man, immacutely dressed, appeared at the door, "Sir?" He said, his voice prompt, prim and reserved.


"Doran," Asavar said, his head tilting slightly in greeting as he handed the old man the stack of papers, "See these delivered."


With an impeccable bow, the older man took the papers and turned on his heel to see his own work done, probably the only one who kept hours as late as Asavar, himself. With.. his.. duties taken care of, he headed out the door and towards the great castle gate to await the... recruits.




Asavar stood before the door, his arms crossed as he waited for the Queen's Guard Recruits that Joran would be sending to go on patrol with him, to show they were worth the effort Joran was putting in them, something Asavar doubted immensely.


 

[border][/border][border][/border][border][/border][border]Aurora Norok

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A very strange woman would wander upon a city. This woman would look much like a gypsy, but in actuality was not. She was as pale as the moonlight and wore dark contrasting clothes that made her stand out. Her clothes looked to be mage like in their appearance, as they were robe-ish like. The colors kept the same scheme of purple, black, gold, and silver. The woman was rather short, only standing at 5'4" and in her hand was a carved wooden staff that was a foot or more taller than her with an orb of aquamarine on the top, encased in more wood to make sure it did not fall out.


The woman would tap her staff along the stone path off the city as her feet felt the vibrations of many people. Some walked fast, others slow, some were heavier and some where light. It was all strange, but by the feel of the ground she could tell something was wrong. The woman who came came upon this town was known as Aurora, or to anyone who knew her personally, Aura. Everyone else would soon call her Lady Aurora/Aura, in respect of course. Aura's hood was cast down over her bandaged eyes and her long white/blonde hair up in a tight bun so it could not be seen; her feet bare.


Aura would walk along the street, careful and cautious to make sure she didn't step on anything sharp. From what she could hear, some 'tough' guardsmen were supposed to patrol the city and one was supposedly an executioner? Very strange indeed. Aura had not met with one of those in quite the amount of years, she was eager to met with this person. The smell in the air was strange as various scents mixed themselves together, making it hard to tell what was what. Aura continued on, wondering what the name of this man or woman was. From the hushed whispers she heard as she passed by huge crowds, the word was that this person was quite fearful due to his size.


Ah. So it is a male and is huge? Are we talking plump and fat or tall and muscular? She wondered. If the man was fat..then what made him scary? Fat people were normally jolly and welcoming..surely he was too? Regardless, Aura would know what his big deal was when she felt his vibrations. If he was fat..well then she would certainly know. The more the rumors spread around this city about the man and the patrol, the more Aura ached to learn his name. What was it and why were people afraid to say it?


With a scoff, Aura would begin to make her way toward the castle. I shall find out the name of this executioner. He seems like the fellow who I could talk into protecting me while I am here.[/border]​

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Kinder Lamb's eyes shot open at the loud sound, well loud to her sound of something smashing. She wasn't quite sure just where she was the last thing she could remember attacking two guards to get past them and then heading to some sort of tavern to try and find a room. Looking around rapidly and the smell in the air beeing mostly ale she guessed she found the tavern but getting a room much have been more difficult either that or she just made it there and then she passed out which after three days of traveling wouldn't surprise her in the least. Still it could have been worse if anyone who knew how much a Ban was worth found her well that wouldn't have been fun.


Kinder looked around again and smile at least the people who owned the Tavern were nice enough to let her stay even if it wasn't a room it was better than sleeping outside. "I tried to wake you, you know." Kinder's eyes flickered around the room before she noticed who it was or more clearly what it was. "I'm sure you did like you alway do and let me guess." Kinder paused for a second before she looked at her little partner in crime. "It didn't work." The two say together as a small chuckle came from the both of them. This was about the only time the two ever got along.


"So what's the plan for today?" Wolf asked causing a shrug to come from Kinder she just simply planned to make some money and move on but with where she was right now it would most likely be much harder so she was going to stick around for a while. "Great so no plan again." Wolf said as he sighed causing Kinder to smirk. "Hey! its worked so far." Kinder said after all they were still alive.
 
Emmony cried out and jerked at the feel of someone's hands on her. It took a moment to recognize Joyce, but the moment she did she turned into the woman, seeking comfort. The sobs were slowing thankfully, leaving her almost silent in the other woman's arms, her body still shaking so hard she felt it might fall apart. Images from that vision kept flashing through her mind, making it hard to calm her racing heart, to breathe normally. That scream, oh gods that scream, it coated her bones, poisoned her, and she didn't know how to make it stop.


Finally, finally, she managed to calm enough that she could speak, though her voice trembled and the words were hard. "O-only thing being r-rough with me is m-my mind," she tried to reassure her, one hand coming up to touch her head. She absently noticed that her head scarf was missing, knocked away at some point during her agony. Quickly followed by the question of whether or not Joyce had seen her eyes yet. Though she kept them covered, plenty of people still had. The woman had to have her eyes bare to See.


Well, to see voluntarily. She'd been having more and more involuntary visions lately, that seem not to care where she is or what she's doing when they strike. And there was that never ending feel that something 'interesting' was coming. Though with this newest vision, she couldn't help but to think that it would be interesting in the worst way.


@Vantruss
 

Eliwood Grado





Eliwood brought his white horse to a slow trot as he reached the inn. This horse was his family's pride, elegant, stalwart and beautiful, given the name, Lance. He parked Lance at the nearby stables and paid the caretaker a few copper lions to tend to Lance.


Securing his cards and pouch of coins, he went into the inn. The lively environment filled Eliwood's spirit to the brim. He enjoyed being in such an environment, mingling with various people of different classes and species.


He walked casually to the bar, waiting to be attended to while wiping the sweat from his forehead dripping from his golden sun hair after a long ride from his hometown.
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  • Joyce nodded solemnly, as she reached for Emmony's headscarf, and handed it to her. "Least I took care of that dastardly vase.", she joked as she slowly swept of the mess she created, and pulled the arrow from the wall. Another vision, the thought troubled her, as the reaction had never been so painful for Emmony.


    Joyce stifled a yawn, she would not retire to her quarters just yet, "How many vases does that make now?", she questioned aloud, as she begun to count her fingers.
 
Quinn

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The white smoke quickly filled the chamber as the bubbling sounded throughout the room, finally with a quick movement of his hand and lungs, the smoke was gone and inhaled. Quinn leaned back against the feathered sofa as breathed a heavy smoke-filled sigh, his eyes staring up at the roof above him for the small moment of time, his arms untensing as he lazily set the long water pipe back down. Quinn's eyes went half-lidded before he suddenly heard creaks above him, a light grin flashing over his expression. He knew who he heard, and his foolishness mixed opium did not bode well with his mind. He brought his hand up not far in front of his face, keeping his gaze on the roof before beginning to crack a single one of his knuckles, making one of the many tattoos he bore flash on his arm. "One, two, three.."


As Asavar walked down the long hallway toward the main castle gate, a blue-clad man would suddenly appear next to him with a small flash of light, Quinn swiftly offering a grin up the giant of a man. "Doing the Queen's Royal work now, cuttah'?" He asked this with the same cocky grin as before, following onside the executioner as he walked down the castle halls with him. He looked the man up and down in his armor for a brief moment, before speaking. "Got anythin' for me?" Quinn had a recent itch to get himself into more trouble lately, though only had a slim shot of hope that the ogre would have anything for him.


@Cosmo
 
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Ashleigh

Ashleigh makes her way through the training grounds, the snigger of her fellow recruits echoed around her, surely they had heard of the defilement of her door. She kept her head down, trying her best to not let her anger get the best of her, it was too soon for such an outburst. Suddenly, Richard and Wilf brushed roughly past her in an attempt to knock her down, and when they failed to do so, they spat upon her boots.


"Enjoy your shit bath this morning", Wilf smiled casually, "Because there's no room here for bitch traitors.", he said turning about, as he tugged on her ragged cape.


Ashleigh swiftly turned, kicked Wilf's hand off of her cape, this was quite possibly who she had spent the morning looking for. "You claiming to have something to do with that?", Ashleigh glared as Wilf shrugged his shoulders indifferently.


She drew her rapier, "Come then, challenge this bitch traitor," she spat at the word, "And if you win, I will leave."


Wilf drew his sword in responce, slowly circling her as he approached, "Then we shall be rid of you sooner than I thought.", he lunged quickly in attempt to surprise her but was sidestepped easily.


Ashleigh set her feet after the dodge, Wilf was faster than she thought, she took a low stance, as she went into the rythme of her attack. She would step lightly forward before launching herself off her back foot, bringing the rapier in almost an uppercut motion, transitioning into a relentless combo of quick jabs in an attempt to set him off balance.


It worked for a fraction of a second, Wilf staggered backwards a few steps, caught off guard by the ferocity of the attack, he swung his blade defensively, in an effort to make her back off. It seemed to work as he regained his balance, he went on the offensive, planting his foot forward he swung towards her midsection, before arcing another strike towards her sword hand.


Ashleigh had hoped for this reaction as she nimbly dodged the clumsy defensive swings, she let him set his footing waiting for the attack that was sure to follow. She leaned out of the swing towards her midsection, and while doing so, drew her parrying dagger, catching his blade, as she twisted her own wrist unnaturally so.


The result was immediate, the snap of his wrist almost echos as it breaks, his sword clatters to the ground, and in one fluid motion, Ashleigh throws him, while seemingly at the same time pounces on top of him, placing her rapier on his throat.
 
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Gareth descended the stairs with his greatsword in hand. The night before had been rather uneventful, apparently she hadn't needed him that night. But odds were that she would need him to carry... whatever it was she wanted carried. But he certainly couldn't do that on an empty stomach. So he found an empty space to sit at and made sure his coin pouch was where it should be and full of coin. It wouldn't do to eat the gruel and not be able to pay for it.
 
With a sigh, Emmony took the scarf and tied it back around her eyes, glad that at least one thing had been set straight. It would take a while to shake off that vision, and the more normalcy she could retrieve, the quicker it would happen. She wondered where Allan was. He hadn't been around much at all last night, so she hadn't had the chance to grill him about this supposed girlfriend.


Joyce's comment drew a startled laugh from her. She was quite good at that, which made sense as the woman was an entertainer. "Thank you, light of my life. Whatever would I do without you to protect me from those evil lamps." Her lips spread in a slight grin. "I believe you have saved the world from six or seven of them now.


@Vantruss


Allan had been out buying supplies for the tavern, returning moments after Joyce had calmed his sister, thus missing out on comforting the crying girl. While he would have dropped everything in a heartbeat had he known she was in such agony, he wasn't very good at the whole comforting thing. Instead, he stashed the supplies, greeting the cook who had just arrived, and grabbed up a cloth, intent on cleaning anything that had been missed earlier.


When he entered the main room, there were already a couple of people there. Mostly people who'd stayed the night in one of their rooms, meaning they were probably looking for some food. Lips twisting up in his usual charming smile, he approached the woman first, his eyes quickly flicking over her. She was quite lovely he had to admit. And, dare he say it, shockingly beautiful. It was very rare he was struck by another person, but he had to pause for a moment before continuing.


The man bowed slightly once he stood before her, before smiling. "I do hope you slept well," he said, tucking his rag into his belt. "Is there anything I can get you? Maybe some food?"


@LadyArdent
 

The Obsidian Executioner

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Asavar kept his gaze forward as the smaller man appeared at his side in a flash of light, yes, perhaps he could use the man after all. But the question was how to best use his skills. He could send him to the.. Tavern, but it would be a waste of the man's skills as it was just dissidents, something even the guards could handle even if he had to listen to a wager that was running within the barracks between which of the guards would be able to bed certain women. But, the the Camelot border... his fingers tapped against his plated leg as he considered it. While he was sure Lord Gregor would not be foolish enough to march south when he was already at war on another front, and they would likely be nothing more then isolated cases of raiders or deserters, it could set the Old Man's mind at ease and more information on the current state of Camelot would not be bad, Asavar could not risk it getting out of hand up there when he was trying to hold together things here.


"I need you to go North and keep an eye on a man called 'Lord Gregor'. He is at war with one of his... neighbors, and his forces may try to cross the border into our realm," Asavar said finally looking at.... and down, the other man, "I need to be kept aware of his movements as well as the state of their lands. We cannot afford an external threat, not right now."


The Recruits still weren't there, Asavar fought down a low growl of annoyance that threatened to leap from his breast, "If you need information, speak to the Ol," Asavar paused realizing he had almost said Old Man rather then his name, "Ser Stronham," he corrected, "I need to have a word with a few soft recruits that are keeping me waiting," he said as he turned on his and strode towards a side door that would lead him out into the training yard, his heavy metal boots crashing against the hard stones beneath him, announcing, even if he didn't, his growing anger at the younger soldiers.




The sight before him was... both frustrating and vindicating. He had told the Old Man that the recruits were soft, that they were weak, and he was right. They had forgotten their duty in favor of some sort of misbegotten contest of egos. His dark eyes narrowed from within his darker helm, the fight was no simple 'spar'. One slip up, and the one of them would die, from the looks of it, the male was more likely to die to the quicker female... which surprised him. He wasn't aware of any female recruits and he was certain she had not be present the day before with the Old Man. Part of another group? Or had the Old Man been keeping her separate exactly because of this? Whatever this was.


Crossing his arms, the other recruits have gone quiet, no longer cheering, or in the case of some, jeering as they took note of his presence upon the field, Asavar watched the male recruit scream in pain as his wrist bent in an odd angle, even from his distance, he could hear the crackle as the thin bones gave way to the force. Soft, the word filtered through Asavar's mind once again, a Queen's Guard did not break with their wrist, they fought on. Most of this batch simply weren't cut for it.


As the.. rather tiny girl disarmed and pressed the other recruit into the ground with her Rapier at his throat, Asavar stepped forward to stop it encase she forgot where she was and why she was here. Killing another recruit in cold blood was not something he could condone, and this slip of a girl had potential.


Asavar laid his large black gauntlet on her plated shoulder, his immense hand covering her entire shoulder and a portion of her upper arm in its grip, "Enough, Recruit."


Ashleigh reflexes reacted faster than her brain processed the words spoken to her, grabbing the unusually large hand that was placed upon her shoulder in an attempt to throw him over her.


To her dismay, she barely lifted the hand off her shoulder, let alone throw him, she jumped back with her blade drawn, ready to fight her next opponent, before quickly noting the black armor that the enormous man behind was wearing. She sheathed her blade, silently saluted the man before her, the very man who had executed her father, as she awaited her punishment.


Asavar's eyes flicked over the woman, tiny but she had spirit and finely honed reflexes, that much was for sure. Even if her reflexes could very well get her into trouble later, they were impressive nonetheless.


His helm turned as he gazed around him, his eyes sliding over the other recruits as well as a few Castle Guard that had come out to watch before settling on the recruit still on the ground holding his wrist, moving forward, he leaned down and gripped the recruit's tabard lifting him off the ground, "On your feet," Asavar growled, "If you want to be a Queen's Guard, act like it. A broken wrist is nothing, you may lay down before an opponent when you are dead and not a moment sooner."


He let go of the recruit's tabard, letting him stumble away, but to his satisfactions, the young man remained standing even if he continued to nurse the wrist, "Richard and Wilf," Asavar barked, his deep voice echoing over the field. A young recruit, in the back, stepped forward and the same man nursing his wound jumped at his name, so they had kept him waiting so they could settle some minor grievance.


"You were late. You had orders," Asavar said between grinding teeth, as they started streaming excuses, he cut them off with a wave of his hand, "No excuses. You decided that settling some," he gestured towards the silent woman, "minor dispute was more worthy of your time."


"Duty above all," Asavar said, "Nothing else matters. Wilf. You are dismissed from the patrol. You will inform Ser Stronham of what happened here and why you are not accompanying us after you have your injury look at, perhaps, the splint will remind you of the price of stupidity."


Asavar watched the younger man turn red with rage, but his eyes jumped from Asavar to the young woman, it seemed whatever was between them was far from finished, perhaps all he had done was inflame it greater, but training them was Joran's duty. If anyone could beat the fool out of the boy it was the Old Man, but the boy's punishment wasn't quite done.


His large hand gestured to the girl who had tried to throw him earlier, "You, recruit, will take Wilf's place in the patrol," the corner of his lip twitched at Richard's posture tightening and the flash of raw hate that flashed through Wilf's eyes. Good, their pride and ego needed to be curtailed early if they were going to be Queen's Guard, "Are there any complaints?" He asked looking at each recruit in question.


Ashleigh stood saluting, as Asavar dealt out his punishment, a quick grin spread across her face as they spewed their excuses, before remembering who was standing before her, she stood stoically, expecting her punishment to be far more severe than Wilf.


As he set his gaze upon her, she bit her lip, this would be the end of her career before it even began, but when he announced that she would join him on the patrol, an inaudible gasp escaped her throat.


Her head raised to look at him, scenarios began playing through her head, she was confused, did he not know who she was. She went back to biting her lip in an attempt not to question the man.


"None? Good," Asavar said although he hadn't expected any as any that spoke would merely have joined Wilf in punishment. "Recruits, with me," he ordered as he turned on his heel and headed back into the castle.




His heavy footsteps echoed down the hall accompanied by two sets of, much quieter, echos.


"We will be patrolling the merchant square, but this is merely a formality," Asavar said, his eyes forward, "I do not expect much action but remain vigilant."


He came to a stop outside the large gates and waited as they groaned slowly swinging open to let the sunlight spill into the dark grand hall, "Ser Stronham has faith in your group," Asavar said turning his head slightly to look back at them, "I do not. Prove me wrong."


Ashleigh collected herself, calming her nerves as she followed Asavar through the halls. If he knew, he was not letting on, and if he didn't it was only a matter of time, either way it was out of her hand.


She nodded at the mention of merchant square, the most action usually being that of a pick pocket, so this really was to be simply a formality.


She watched as the gates open, the sunlight danced upon her ruby encrusted hilt, however, she was used to the sight of it, but to see the city stretch out before her was indeed a sight to behold. She looked to Asavar as he commented about them, knowing she would prove him wrong.
 

Amunet did in deed find a book of something that wasn't completely dull. Curled up on a chair close to the hearth as the fire offered a little better lighting as she began to read. Just shortly after a few pages into the book she grew irritated at her hair. There were times she desperately wanted to cut it that in itself was useless it grew back the next evening. Once in the state of being you die in you can't alter anything.


Book upturned on one of the chairs armrest as she sat up straight gathering her unruly locks into a bun. It wouldn't hold true to perfection as unruly strands escape everywhere as they could. Feigning a sigh for the looks of everything she made a small nod to herself pleased that most of the strands were away from her face. Just as she was going to reach her book some she paused.


Footsteps echoed against the floor as a voice trailed after. Furrowing her brows as she looked to a gentleman bowing. Mind you she still hadn't fed. It wasn't anything to drive her insane, it just made things a little tense. After all she had to play the ever dutiful part.. "I did thank you. Just a little milk with honey and some small slices of bread if there is any." A small questioning look dancing on her face as she smiled a little.


He was just simply being curious and doing his job. When she spoke one wouldn't know her incisors were there. She spoke yet it seemed she barely spoke. If that made any sense at all to anyone?
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@ianbabyyy
 
Joyce

Joyce chuckled at the mention of saving the world, "Tis but a small service her Madness must perform.", she would finish sweeping up the remains of the vase.


She took a moment to soak in the sounds of the tavern; sizzling meat as the cook had just arrived to prepare breakfast for the guests, who were rousing from their slumbers, most hungover, lumbering through their rooms. Lastly, she heard Allan in the parlor, *Actually helping out this morning*, she mused, "Come now my love, our loyal subjects await.", she offered a hand to Emmony.
 
Quinn listened to the giant speak as he stopped and looked over where the recruits should be, his brow raising up at the emptiness presented. He did not take much time to make judgements as the executioner finished speaking to him, giving a light shake of his head. "I know where to find it, needn't worry, my friend." He stepped forward and looked down at his hand, taking a moment to decide where he wanted to be in the castle. It had not taken the man long before a few cracks of his knuckles were heard as he stepped forward, a quick flash of light was the last that'd be seen before he was away from the man.


Loose papers fluttered in the locked off room, Quinn's green eyes swiftly taking in his surroundings as he began to search through different scrolls and papers, finding anything he could on Lord Gregor and his neighboring enemy, casually tossing the papers in a leather sack as he moved through the room. After he was done with his work, he let out a short sigh. He did not have a tattoo for this one. He took his hands and began to crack his knuckles simultaneously, focusing in front of him for a good minute's length time. He finished the casting with a heavy breath, a rift opening in front of him as he stepped forward into the violent whirlpool of dark and light hues spiralling inside of it.


Quinn stepped back out of the portal at the city's main gate, beginning to step forward as he looked on to where he prepared to walk. Though, something stopped him in his steps. A woman walked before him, blind yet covered in the cloths of one magically adept. He stopped as he turned his body to face her, raising up a brow at her. "Miss?" He asked this as he looked over her once more. Odd.


@Cosmo @xEmoBunnehx
 
White teeth flashed as he smiled at her again. "Of course. Anything for our guests. I'll return in a moment with your food." There was something odd about her, he pondered as he made his way back towards the kitchen. He brushed a piece of hair off his forehead, the damned thing distracting him for a minute. Another greeting to the cook as he put in the order, and then amusement as he watched her bustle about the kitchen. The cook had always amused him for some reason. Real quick that amusement was wiped off his face as the stout woman turned to look at him suspiciously. She had no compunction about smacking him with a spoon if she thought he was laughing at her.


His mind wandered then, going back to that pretty little half elf he'd strolled and spoken with yesterday. Siara. He'd rather liked having her on his arm... The man shook himself, scowling and brushing all such thoughts from his head. Thankfully, the cook pressed the milk and bread into his head, distracting them.


Returning to the woman, he presented her food to her, saying, "For you, miss." His eyes caught on the book she was reading, and her nearness to the hearth. "If you'd like I can bring you a light to making your reading easier?"


@LadyArdent


Emmony waited until she heard Joyce finishing with the shards before pushing to her feet. It's not that she was worried about slicing her feet, she was wearing a sturdy pair of boots, but if she stepped on any it would be harder to clean up, and she wouldn't want to leave a guest's room messy. Her legs still shook and for a moment the woman worried that they weren't going to hold her up. Slowly, oh so slowly, she steadied herself, forcing her breathing back to normal.


Reaching to where she approximated Joyce's hand would be, she got lucky this time and clasped it firmly on the first try. "Come your Madness, my dearest one, you are most certainly correct. It is time for us to make our appearance to our subjects." Dratted woman always managed to drag Emmony into her dramatics. Not that she minded of course.


@Vantruss
 
Joyce playfully paraded herself and Emmony through the parlor, before she took a seat at the bar, she clapped her in an attempt to get Allan's attention, "My good sir", she cleared her throat, "We are in need of appropriate breakfast accommodations."





At the moment she gestured to the couter, she noticed a dove land in the back window of the kitchen, she let a out a sigh, there was always work to be done. "I apologize M'Lady, but it seems as I must take care of an important matter.", she clasped Emmony's hand gently before she made her way into the kitchen, she touched Allan's shoulder, "It happened again.", she whispered, nodding quickly towards Emmony.


@ianbabyyy


With that she exited the back door of the kitchen.
 
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Aurora Norok

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Aura would continue her trek through the city, determined to see the person everyone was so afraid of. As she walked, something stopped her dead in her tracks. There was a very large person walking the streets near her. She could tell by the vibrations that were put off from the person that they were quite..huge. From all around her, people began to talk in hushed whispers.


"That's him.."


One said.


"Who?"


Another asked, clearly new to the city like Aura was.


"Asavar..."


The person said his name so softly, as though it was a sin to speak his name. Aura on the other hand only smirked darkly under her hood. Finally. She knew his name and by the size of him..she knew when he would return to the castle.


Aura worked her way through the people, careful to keep out of sight and just when she thought she might of been..someone called to her. By the sound of it, they were a male and not too old? Maybe. Aura turned her head in the direction of the man who called to her.


"Yes?" She asked him, her smirk now instantly gone as her voice sounded elegant and melodic in tone.

@northguy[/border][border][/border]​

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Lord Gregor Whytewynd


"The Ivory Eagle"


Three Dozen Miles North of the Whytewynd-Lathien Border, Within His Tent.
​




"So, you're telling me that you lost this man with five hundred men surrounding him?", Lord Gregor spat out


angrily as his fifth-born son, Viston, cowered beneath him. They were in Gregor's war camp. Whytewynd


forces were celebrating a recent victory against House Sinclair at the Weeping Women, a group of ruined castles


that had been reduced to nearly nothing during the extensive battle. Now, however, Gregor's mood had turned


sour as House Sinclair's heir, Joran Sinclair, had managed to escape his camp. What was worse was that the damned


lord-in-training was named after one of his most hated enemies: The Father's Bane.


The Lord had no clue in all the Hells how his son, Viston,


had managed to lose the man with such an advantage, but


he didn't care, either. He had little regard for those who failed


him. Even if he wanted to see Viston suffer for this, he was a


Whytewynd, and Whytewynds didn't kneel and cry for mercy


for anyone, or anything.


"Damn it all, Viston. Find Joran and have his throat ripped asunder. After that, you will join us in taking


the Purple Beach. House Sinclair's days are numbered, no matter if their heir lives or dies a day earlier,"


Gregor would murmur, violently taking in a mug of yellow ale after he spoke. Viston suddenly stood,


a hopeful look escaping from his hazel eyes as he saluted his father, a fist impacting where his heart was.


"I won't let you down fa-", the hopeful, scarlet-haired, fifth-born would begin to


say, before Lord Gregor suddenly raised his hand, a look of cruel warning taking


his harsh and authoritarian face once more.


"And control your men. I've heard reports that you've lost half of your forces. A third from


combat and disease and the other two thirds from desertion after they've taken advantage of


your supplies, which should be as well-guarded as the Sinclair boy was. If I hear that Whytewynd


men trespassed on Lathien lands, I will have your privates torn out, root and stem. If I'm


merciful, I'll have Jorg the Executioner perform the Blood Eagle on ye, and you'll kneel there


as long as you did here, until your lungs fall from your shoulders and you bleed out like a fucking


dog."


Viston could barely muster words. The proud fifth-born was a cocky and ruthless torturer,


but he had always been easily shut down in the presence of his father, whom he feared more


than any beast or killer in all of the world. As the fifth-born tried to speak, Gregor would scoff


and send him away with a wave of his hand. The fifth-born bowed formally before leaving the


war-tent, shaking as he walked out into the dry morning.
​
 

Amunet went back to reading her book when he set off to retrieve her small order. The book was o e of the few she hadn't come across so it actually was intriguing. To her it seemed like someone most likely left it behind in there travels. She grew accustomed to the sounds of everything around her. New people settling in, meals being made, small talk... Her thoughts were going to drift back to earlier this morning of the woman crying. Just before her mood could shift he came back.


Pulling from her small reverie as she looked at him smiling softly. Placing the book on the armrest once more as she reached for the milk. Forever pretending to take a drink as she listened to him. Amunet wiped at her lips some as if she actually drank it and lowered the glass some. "Oh thank you for this. The lighting is just fine. I like looking at the pictures more than just reading." Chuckling a little at her small joke. Odd she is.


(Sorry for shortness. I make it bigger next time.)
​
 
(Short posts for lil' while, sorry. x.x)


Quinn studied the woman as he let his hand rest on his loose blue clothing, glancing off in the direction of the castle for a short moment. "Thought you were someone else.." Was all he stated as he let out an annoyed sigh, turning back away as he flipped a coin out to her. "For your troubles!" He stated as he began off on his way, his hands beginning to bend and crack as he summoned on his walk. His knuckles constantly popped and unpopped as his hand continued to make odd formation, stressing and unstressing by his side. The sheer energy that it took for Quinn to begin casting this rift as he walked out the city gate's was immense. As he reached the end of the draw-bridge, he finally raised his hand up and opened up a large rift in front of him, taking heavy breaths as he glanced back to the crowd's staring, half-hoping he had caught the mystery woman's attention. Despite, he continued on forward, stepping into the display of lights that whirled within the portal.


Time to lead an army.


@xEmoBunnehx
 
Allan laughed at her response about the pictures, having found himself guilty of doing the same thing before. He opened his mouth to respond only to be interrupted by Joyce cheerfully parading down the stairs. He sighed and rolled his eyes, attempting to ignore her and return to the woman in front of him, only to have Joyce appear beside him. Her whisper made him stiffen, his eyes immediately darting towards Emmony, who was currently bustling about the bar, polishing mugs while occasionally knocking them over. There was something... off about her. He could hear her humming under her breath, something she only ever did when she'd had a bad vision.


Emmony, for her part, was indeed humming under her breath, the sound soothing and distracting her mind, taking her attention from the death and the scream that had latched to her bones. Before Allan could excuse himself to check on her, she was already making her way through the room, talking and laughing with patrons.


He turned back to the woman in front of him, smiling sheepishly. "I apologize for my distraction. Do you often read books for only the pictures, or is this one the exception?" His smile turned teasing. "If you finish that one, we have more that you're free to peruse."


Using her sixth sense, Emmony was making her way about the room, watching for people, asking how they were, if they required anything. She stopped in front of one such person, flashing them a brilliant smile. "Good morning, I hope you slept well. Is there anything I can get for you?"


@LadyArdent @Beowulf
 
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[border][/border][border]Aurora Norok

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Aura was slightly confused as to what the man expected or who, rather, he expected. Nonetheless, she would shrug it off and just barely catch the coin he flipped her direction. "How very odd..." She said aloud before nearly cringing at the man's popping knuckles, finger and so on. Ugh. Horrible noise that. She thought as she shook her head and tapped her staff along the path once more, continuing to the direction that the fat man had come from. Or..rather she felt him come from.


Aura felt rather..uneasy in this crowd of people..not liking that she could be snatched. Regardless, she made her way forward, dodging and weaving through the crowd; ignoring the comments made about the fat man himself. She was certainly excited to meet him. "I do wonder..what shall this large man be like?" She asked aloud to herself before she let out a chuckle. "I certainly hope he will be entertaining~" She mused aloud as her mind pictured an enormous man dancing to the tune of a lute. The vision made her laugh quite hard as his rolls bounced along with him and his funny little jig. Was Asavar going to be like that? Probably not. From the rumors she heard, the man was strict and brutal..but he had to have a soft side. Everyone does. She would find his~


Finally after walking who knew how long, Aura came to the castle gates. Without a single bit of hesitation, she walked in them, her staff tapping along the way as she felt very little vibrations at the front of the castle. Or at least..no one was moving. As she walked in, her feet felt all sorts of strange textures and most of them were cold. Esh. Nevertheless, she kept moving until she hit stairs. Effectively stubbing her big tone on the first step, the woman would let out a curse under her breath before taking the stairs one at a time. Once at the top, she would sit down with her legs crossed and staff laying across her lap.


"And now..I wait for the fat man."


She said aloud before placing her hands exactly six inches apart and perfectly horizontal from one another. From there she would begin to mediate as if it was the most natural thing to do whilst sitting in front of the castle doors.[/border]​

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