Fire Emblem: Exalted March (Beorc)

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  1. There was a sense of adventure in the air but also a certain kind of apprehensiveness. Its the middle of the morning, the sun slightly blanketed by white clouds. A light breeze even blows throughout seas of grass southern of the Carcino border, cooling those in Fort Ishmaire a neutral stronghold on the continent Auerlis. But this pleasant weather hardly overshadowed the ominous events to come. The threat of a war's revival tears at the seams of peace set in place by those of Beorcian blood.

    Only fourteen sunrises have passed since the councilmen of Renais and their King declared the formation of a vigilante group tasked with the specific and ruthless hunt of shapeshifters. Certainly the first move of many more to come. With this group, it won't be long till the racial tensions explode out of proportions, once again starting a much more large-scale war like ones that the generations had before.

    The breeze grew stronger for but a moment, as if the cogs of destiny slowly began to turn once again after resting idle for far too long. Revolution was at just about everyone's doorstep in Aurelis and soon death would become unavoidable. The question is, which race will stand at its conclusion?

    Fort Ismaire, an old Beorcian stronghold ran by those sent by the representatives of the Carcino Republic laid right in the center of Aurelis. Many travelers pass through here, tempted by its Inns and taverns. The fort itself was rather huge, almost like a city in its own right. With all of its human nomadic visitors, it's quite the melting pot of ethnicity gathering people from Grado, Renais, Frelia, even Jehanna.

    Somewhere near the center of the fort, a woman whose hair trailed behind her in blazing waves strode through the crowd. It didn't take a bloody genius to tell she was something more then just another merc with an axe. The determination in her emerald green irises showed she had a purpose. But the general expression of her sharp features told she wasn't exactly enthusiastic to said purpose. Her vestments were simple, tanned leather boots and leggings, a linen shirt and a sleeveless green vest but the axe swinging with her hips was crafted much more intricately.

    Her name was Freyja Velarius. Co-ruler of Grado. Alongside her older twin brother, Freyr she led a country of hardship yet perseverance. The hardworking mentality of the girl reflecting those from her homeland. Freyja had wished her darned brother had been forced to become part of this hunting group but she admitted he was definitely the brains of their rule. Not to say she was particularly dumb, but she'd prefer taking up weaponry then useless diplomacy. Heh. It was one of the reasons that made her scion to the human nobles, a title she secretly took pride in.

    She hated those stuffy noblemen and women up north. They were far too privileged and relied heavily on her already crippled country for materials. The fact that the group required one royal representative from each kingdom tells Freyja that this isn't going to be fun for her and them. Now she was heading towards the rendezvous where said lordlings and hired mercenary should be waiting.

    "Ah..but it seems I'm the first to arrive." Freyja spoke, her thoughts transitioning into spoken words as she arrived in a clearing barely outside of the eastern gate. Her eyes flashed towards the bandit-infested desert not too far away. How she hoped they would not have to venture there first. Along with stuffy nobles she hated the sand.
    #1 Rufiya, Feb 6, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 6, 2014
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  2. [​IMG]

    Holding an arm to shield his eyes from the sun, Annto continued placing one light footstep after the on the ground. His path behind him seemed almost non-existent as he passed, so light were his steps. Keeping true to the ways of his village, the man did his best to leave as little destruction to nature behind him. Though the gusts that came at random times would certainly hide anything in the sands.

    The gates were soon within site, and as he neared them, he hefted the small traveling pack tighter against his shoulder. The sun's light carresed the fine fabric of his flowing clothes, giving them an almost celestial quality, which complimented the man's striking looks. To say he was beautiful would be true, but to say he was frail for it would certainly be a falsehood. With that, as the man neared the gate, the locals noticed him, with a few women nearly swooning at first site of him, and was followed with the agitated looks of their husbands, or significant others.

    Reading the air, and their looks, Annto cracked the most hidden of smiles with it pulling at the corners of his mouth. He knew the feeling, and was glad to see it from the people of this place. Such a treasure should never be locked within chests to be hoarded in the privacy of a dark room, or secluded lair. It should be openly shown, and allow it's petals to fall along the path of life, and sprout more gardens for others to enjoy.

    It was then that he noticed the woman with what looked like a wild fire woven in strands for hair. It was quite interesting, and pulled his gaze for a long moment as he walked. The lady herself was very beautiful.

    'Perhaps a dancer, or a singer of songs...' The man mused to himself, and continued closer to the gates. As arrived, he offered a smile, and a pleasant "Good day, M'lady." His voice a gentle wave of confidence, and warmth. Oblivious as to the true identity of the woman, If he'd known, he would have offered the proper greeting he was shown to give the Noble class... especially a Royal.​
  3. ooc: Haven't written large posts for quite a while, so i may be abit rusty.

    Eligor woke up to the familiar smell of booze, vomit and other fluids whom are better not being stated. He had spent most of the night at a run down tavern where the booze had been cheap and the company had been quite enjoyable as they had all gotten rather wasted even tough the drinks tasted like piss mixed with alcohol but what the heck, it still got them drunk. After having gathered his things and made sure nothing important had gotten stolen he stepped out, letting out a sigh as he felt the fresh air fill his lungs.

    He went of to one of the inns and payed a small sum to get his body cleaned and also to get himself breakfast, woudn't want to search for work on a empty stomach you never know if a future employer decides to tests his skills. After having finished said breakfast and made sure that he didn't smell like the place he had spent the night in he started to equip his gear, it took around five minutes to make sure that the chest piece and the rest of the armour didn't cause any pain.

    When he had left the inn he started to walk through the fortress, Eligor liked this place for the many kinds of cultures mixed together here made him think of home AND it also often provided a sellsword like him with work. He kept his helmet under his right arm cause he didn't want to cause any suspicion with him walking around fully armed and geared up, he just hoped that no racist bastard would look him in the eyes after all his golden eyes were the only thing visible that could provide a stranger with the knowledge of his race.
  4. Adelaide sat as tall as possible as she rode her horse towards the fortress on the horizon. She had been traveling non-stop in order to reach Fort Ismaire in time to meet the rest of the group. A small group of royal guards, along with a few mercenaries, traveled with her. They were ordered or paid to protect her until she reached her destination. As they neared the fort, Adelaide's hand reached for her skirt and began to fiddle with it. She had never fought outside of training, not to mention never fought a Laguz. However, the council had agreed to send a representative from each of the three main countries, and unfortunately for Adelaide, she was an only child.

    Finally the princess came up to the fort and she pulled out a small note from her saddle pouch. You will meet at the eastern entrance to Fort Ismaire. Adelaide lightly nodded to herself as they reached the gate of the western entrance. Before entering, Adelaide turned her horse to face her entourage. "Thank you kindly for your assistance. I have reached my destination and your purpose is fulfilled. May you all have safe journeys from here on out." Adelaide was unsure whether any of those accompanying her were also asked to join the group, so she simply continued to the eastern gate, unknowing if someone was following her or not. As she traveled through the town on horseback, she noticed a young man with bright yellow eyes. She found herself staring at them as she passed. They were such an odd color...was he? Adelaide shook the question from her mind. Questioning a person's birth was not her concern. What she needed to focus on was the task at hand, which was defeating the Laguz.

    Adelaide exited the fortress and found two beorc waiting nearby. The green-haired woman rode up to them and lifted herself off her stead. As she lightly landed on the ground, she gave a light bow of her head. "Princess Adelaide of Renais. It is a pleasure." Adelaide scanned the two with her brown eyes, trying to read her soon-to-be companions. The redhead had to be Freyja, and Adelaide's eyes narrowed slightly. She had heard about Freyja, how the woman didn't act anything like a proper lady should. Adelaide knew things were going to be rocky between the two. The other person was a man, and quite the looker too. He seemed calm and gentle, and Adelaide couldn't ask for a better comrade. With luck, everyone else in the group would be perfect gentlemen, and if there had to be females, they would be perfect ladies.

  5. When it came to the hustle and bustle of the large city like fortress no one noticed the ragged, stooped appearance of the homeless man that made his way through the crowd following in the wake of the Lady of Renais. Just as no one had cared that a hired stable hand had broken off of her dismissed entourage in order to follow her. Nobles, they never paid much attention to those considered below their station. Everything he needed for the journey ahead was stowed in a single pack he had slung over one shoulder underneath the ragtag cloak he was using as a disguise. The bulge made by the pack only further served to make him look stooped, hunch backed, and aged. The hood of said cloak was pulled far over his head masking his face in shadows.

    He could count thirteen different ways to kill her since this journey had started. Fortunately for Lady Adelaide he had been in her father's employ for well over five years now. The man kept him well paid to learn such things and prevent them, among other tasks like gathering important information. He had counted thirteen ways to kill her. He had foiled five. The lady, she probably had no idea. Just as she very likely hadn't seen him following her yet, though he hadn't exactly been hiding from
    her. As he passed a weapon's stall he caught the reflection of a shadowy figure in a shield. Well now, it seemed the rat had decided to make one final try for the girl after all, and now the rat was in the open.

    Fortunately his Lady had decided to ride through town. That made her an unlikely target for pickpockets, which left him free to scan the area for other threats as he followed, not counting the obvious one behind him. The congestion in the streets slowing her pace making it easy for him to keep up with on foot. He continued to follow, interfering with a couple lugs who looked like they were going to try to slash the lady's saddlebags. But when the men looked around to find him after he had tripped them up, all they saw was a torn cloak on the ground. They stepped aside as someone else pushed through. Further down the path, was a average sized, fair hared man in well kept but plain black and brown traveling cloths, a single large pack flung over one shoulder, he was nothing like the homeless man they were looking for.

    Ahead of him, on the other side of the east gate, he saw his lady dismount and greet a small group of people who were waiting, But he dropped back, letting the second tail get in front of him, watching with keen interest as the man in question drew a long knife, and keeping it hidden in his cloak, very slowly approached the princess. A second later the fair haired man was mounting the steps that led to the top of the wall, fortunately there was a window ledge over the gate only about a story high, and was dropping from the other side to land squarely on the villain's back just as he charged Lady Adelaide. The man went sprawling in the dirt with a grunt, his knife skittering harmlessly away.
    "Galric," the man groaned, "Galric V’nyle, what are you . . ."
    "The man who hired you, Paedar, doesn't know how to hold his tongue any more than he knows how to hold his liquor. Though I must say I am extremely disappointed," Galric mused as he pulled the man to his feet, his voice was on the deep side and would have been soothing had he not been obviously mocking the man at the moment. "Was a knife really the most interesting thing you could think of? Clearly you are less intelligent than I originally gave you credit for. And oh look, the fort guards are here. How nice of them to cart you off to a cozy dungeon and save me the trouble of deciding what to do with you. I do so hate it when things get messy."

    As the fort guards hauled the failed assassin away Galric turned towards the group and offered them all a charming, if potentially, slightly mocking bow. "Your pardon, My Ladies, my Lords, it was not my intention to interrupt. If you'll forgive my rudeness I shall sit here and quietly observe." And with that Galric plopped himself down atop a nearby crate.
    #5 Falcon, Feb 10, 2014
    Last edited: Feb 19, 2014
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  6. Eligor who had stopped in the middle of a crowd once he had felt someone looking at him and as he looked around himself he saw a clearly noble woman dressed in armour ontop of a horse, he could feel her stare as she rode through the town and let out a sigh, he really hoped that the woman would not cause any problems but he tilted his head in wonder once he saw her back for the mark was so familiar to him and he let out a slight laugh when he realised it. He took out the letter he had gotten from a old friend and customer he opened the letter in which the details of his new job was listed, that old man never wrote down that his own daughter was part of the group well it seems like the old general wanted someone who's skills he had seen by himself.

    " Well i better hurry to the meeting place then, i hope that this group i am part of has any people who like a good drink from time to time. "

    He chuckeled towards himself as he started to walk in the direction that the young lady had gone to, why search when you can simply follow those who know the place? It was when he reached it that he saw his companions for now, the man who stood there seemed to be calm and if Eligor judged correctly by the looks the women around the three he was quite the charmer as well. The secound one was a woman with fiery red hair and seemed to have a strong build which was good, there could never be enough strong people in a company. Lastly we had the green haired lady who's own father had hired him, he put on his helmet before he walked up to the group and said.

    " Good day, Eligor Varg Mercenary hired by a certain general. "

    He took out and waved the letter that Adelaide's father had sent, she could most likely see her fathers seal on it. ​
  7. Freyja offered a sideways glance at the sudden uncounted for reaction. She kept a blank expression at the admittedly good looking young man as her mind quickly connected the dots; he was probably some mercenary hired by one of the other royals - certainly not Frey herself as she, despite her brothers insistent wishes wanted to set off on this hunt without somebody who would eventually return to her country with her. There was no telling what could happen and the only thing that can really sow a unloyal merc's mouth was more gold which was most definitely a luxury Grado could not afford.

    But despite the length of her thoughts it all went by in a quick flash. She turned her body the whole way so she could face him properly. Her hands shifted into the holes of her linen pants casually as she laughed at his proper tagging. she was hardly a lady, so that was exactly what she told him.

    "I'm Frey. I assume by the fact that your a warrior that your part of the hunting group and not some scumbag hoping to score something for tonight?" She spoke laxly, it wasn't that he seemed like the type to mislead a girl but over time Freyja had learned not too trust handsome men as she would a beggar. She stood quiet for a moment analyzing his attire with focused eyes. "Myrmidon eh? It'll be fun to spar with you." Freyja then said in a more charismatic tone before Adelaide had arrived.

    She knew Adelaide from multiple occasions when Freyja and her twin brother would visit Renais out of courtesy. They were hardly friends, in fact Freyja even had a pretty noticeable disliking for the "proper" princess. Freyja turned from the swordsman to the woman offering a courtesy

    "Pleasure, Lady Adelaide." She spoke, her tone a little bit over enthusiastic but not too obvious that she was being sarcastic. But then another arrival - once again a hired hand came. Judging from his affiliation when anybody in the Renais royal family, Freyja already disliked him. Same thing with the thief who had casually announced his entry.

    Was this really the party created by the royals? Goddamn what were they thinking. Hopefully those from Frelia would be a bit more bearable.
    #7 Rufiya, Feb 14, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 16, 2014
  8. [​IMG]

    In a matter of moments, the group had grown in size. The Princess Adelaide had announced herself, while the man who seemed to have been stalking an assassin sat on a crate. Lastly, another mercenary arrived with what appeared to be a letter in hand. 'A very diversified group it would seem...' Annto had a feeling that this little endeavor would be quite the adventure. He just wasn't sure whether this adventure would be good or bad, but he knew that it involved hunting shifters. He had no desire to kill them, but it gave him an opportunity to track down a specific set of people.

    And that was what he cared about.

    When Freyja responded, Annto could detect the faint feeling of distrust, and then the sharp incline of eagerness for sparring. "Should I have wished a roll in the sheets, wouldn't I have tried something more than a simple hello?" He responded matter of fact like, and allowed his sword arm to rest along the hilt of his blade. Turning to the Adelaide, Annto bowed his head. "Greetings your highness. I had not known that a member of your family would be joining this group."

    Then looking back to Freyja, the man offered a glance to his blade, letting his eyes slowly linger on it before trailing back to Freyja's. "Perhaps when I find myself a practice sword. This one's purpose isn't to draw against the innocent."​
  9. Eligor chuckeled slightly to himself as this was most likely going to become quite the party, the looker and the red-head were already getting along nicely and the other royal girl would most likely not be jumping out of joy for this seemed far from a group of knights that she had most certainly expected. He raised his arms and took of his helmet not caring to much of how the group would react uppon seeing his eye colour.

    " Well it seems that we are quite the diverse group here, should we try some introductions or will it be just bussines? Always nice to know if i will be able to have a drink and chat with my new companions or if they desire to be left alone. "

    He gave them a friendly grin showing his care free nature, well that is if they werent compleatly shunning him by now as they most likely would have figured out what race he was of. But that was as already stated something he didn't care about. The reason he wondered about introductions was so he would be able to fish out their skills thus he would know who he could trust with certain things, for example a axe wielder would be much better at attacking a more heavy armored unit than one using a spear.​
  10. With snort of frustration and a whip of his blade, the man who would be the greatest of swordsmen (At least, that was the opinion of himself) walked out of an alleyway, resheathing the slim-bladed sword he carried with him at, seemingly, all times. It was more of a habit that he whipped it out whenever he wanted to make a point to some homeless guy that wasn't agreeing that he was gonna be awesome someday. Mind you, the point mostly revolved around him waving the sword threateningly until the homeless guy fell asleep, because like hell he wanted to get arrested for some murderous act within the city walls, but that was, essentially, beside the point.

    He was just a regular young man, really, with dreams far beyond his means, and with a far too overly active imagination. He came from the Carcino Republic, the son of a merchant family that sold wool. Not too impressive, really, but what could you do?

    Of course, his frustration turned, rather quickly, into glee when he noticed Annto, the fact that he carried a sword, and the fact that, holy crap, he looked like a swordsman. THIS WAS HIS CHANCE TO PROVE HIMSELF! Running out from the alleyway, he stood gallantly with a rakish grin across his face, pointing dramatically with a single finger towards the Myrmidon, saying, "I challenge you to a fight, for glory!" Oh jeez. This kid was gonna get himself killed. And he was gonna get himself killed quickly.

    In terms of how he appeared, he didn't look impressive. At all. His clothing was rather worn-down, and he only carried a rather thin-bladed sword that was more for impressing people than for actual battle. In short, he looked like a joke. Anything more would have to be revealed as a result of combat.
  11. [​IMG]
    Adelaide gave the young woman and the handsome swordsman a curtsy, or at least the closest thing to a curtsy she could muster with her armor and small skirt. It was no surprise that the true warriors of the group would question her presences. She was far from qualified for this task, but it was important for each country to send a representative of sorts. It was probably so one country couldn't claim success over the others, giving said country more power in council by hanging it over the councilmen's heads.

    As Adelaide was about to ask about the rest of the group, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the ruckus behind her. She turned to see a blonde man atop another man, and it took a moment to register who it was. Galric, the man whom her father often turned to for information, and apparently as a secret bodyguard based on the situation. The noblewoman wasn't quite sure how to feel about the state of affairs. It was quite infuriating that she had been so oblivious, but it was the job of a bodyguard to protect his client, and Galric certainly earned whatever money he was paid to assist her. So in the end, Adelaide decided to take this as positively as she could. As the villain was carted away by the guards, Galric gave a bow, along with an apology, and proceeded to sit by and listen.

    Another man arrived by the name of Eligor, and Adelaide gave him a small bow of her head. She noticed the sword at his waist and her face showed obvious signs of relief. Swords are preferable. Refined, dignified individuals use lances and swords. Adelaide's eyes glanced momentarily at Freyja before returning to the new member, noticing the paper he waved around. She specifically honed in on the seal, her father's to be precise, and she nodded to herself. Ah, so at least Galric and this Eligor were employed by my father. I'm sure he chose fine men to join our quest. Eligor put the letter away and then lifted the helmet off his head. Adelaide's eyes showed obvious surprise. It was the man from before, the one with the golden eyes. She found herself staring, as she did before, trying to figure out why his eyes seemed so odd to her. Finally it clicked. He was Branded. She had read in a book that Branded often had odd eye colors, though that could have just been hearsay. Either way, Adelaide could feel herself getting a bit nervous, and she began to play with the hem of her battle skirt. She had never met a real Branded before. Could they transform like the Laguz? Could he take some beastly form at any moment and chomp off their heads?

    Eligor's words jolted Adelaide to focus, and she gave a curtsy this time, though it was a bit shaky. "Princess Adelaide of Renais...sir." She wasn't sure what to call him. Was he aware of his state? Did he care? Did he want others to acknowledge it? She had heard that Branded often aged slower than regular Beorc. Was he older than her? Adelaide's mind swam with questions, but finally she made a decision. Nothing was worse than an indecisive person. She would treat him like the others. He was a sellsword after all, regardless of what he was. However, that nagging feeling that he might actually be a beast was still there, in the far reaches of her mind.

    A new member joined soon, a young lad. Adelaide's brows furrowed. Did someone really hire such a young boy? I don't like the idea of a child fighting the Laguz. Not to mention he looks ill-suited for combat. There wasn't even a piece of armor on the boy, how did he expect to face giant dragons, cats, and wolves? It wasn't until the lad spoke that she realized that he wasn't there to join the group. He merely wanted to prove himself. However, to Adelaide, that seemed almost worse. The woman approached the boy and began to wag a finger at him. "Now see here mister. Your shenanigans are ill-timed. We are on an important mission and don't need distractions from a child who doesn't even have a true reason to fight. Simply fighting another man won't gain you glory. Fighting for your country does." Not long out of her country and already Adelaide was acting like a mother hen. Should Annto decide to fight the child, however, then Adelaide wouldn't intervene. Unless there looked to be murderous intent among the two swordsmen....or swordsman and child. If they did prepare to fight, Adelaide would lead her horse off the 'battlefield' and stand beside the blonde thief.
  12. [​IMG]

    His attention was turned towards the new comer. Seeing the man's eyes, Annto's expression remained the same. He had no care at how people viewed the Branded. One should never be blamed for the sins of Ancestors, let alone the entire race. Turning to face the man, Annto bowed his head. "Annto Elsphyre."

    Once more his attention was pulled away as a young boy came racing out of an alleyway with a sword hung from his waist. His clothes though not tattered in rags, had certainly seen better days. Looking the boy in the eyes as the challenge was issued, Annto simply smiled, and answered "No. I will not be challenged for glory, as I have none to give." The truth behind the matter was cyptic, as Annto had indeed gathered a sweeping reputation for his swordsmanship, but he had never gained any glory... nor would he ever wish it.

    Adelaide then began to scold the boy, and Annto waited until she had finished. He then slid his blade along his sash until it rested behind his back, and looked to the Princess. "You are wrong as well. This isn't a mission. It's murder, and fighting gains no glory. For country, or anything else. Glory has long become an excuse for carrying swords, and the world has decided to change this excuse to truth. Such a shame it really is, as there are other reasons that are much more truthful in this life."

    Leaning against a stack of crates, Annto turned his gaze to the sky for a moment, and then back to the group as he took a deep breath. "Though this is simply the opinion of a Vagabond without a poem, or Illiad to change truths."​
  13. Admittedly, Ni'assus' eyes were more firmly locked upon Annto than anyone else, finger extended like a burning objection to what the swordsman said. The sheer idea of a swordsman not possessing glory? Ridiculous! The notion that a man's deeds spoke more loudly than his words was one that was certainly high on his list, although his words were, more commonly than not, rather loud as well. Just the nature of things.

    He drew out the thin-bladed sword with his dominant hand, the right one, left still rose in that accusatory finger, as he said, "What do you mean, no glory? You have a sword. That means you've got SOME glory. What, have you no pride?!" Of course, his definition of glory was essentially synonymous with Annto's definition of reputation.

    Finally, however, the woman showed up and began to give him some lecture. Blah blah blah responsibility blah blah blah blah fight for a country blah blah blah something blah. Yeah, whatever. The only thing that piqued his interest was the fact that she said he had nothing to fight for. That made him bristle. Nothing to FIGHT FOR?! How insolent!

    "Listen here, lady! I don't care what you think of me! Glory awaits those who seize it for themselves, and I mean to be the greatest swordsman in all the world. I am Ni'assus Vaphs, and this I swear upon my life!" He, of course, yelled this out in a rather boastful manner that spoke greatly as to the sort of man that he was. He didn't actually make any hostile motions with the rather thin-bladed sword, simply holding it at the ready in a stance that spoke more towards his enthusiasm than his actual skill.
  14. [​IMG]

    Remus stood in front of a large, sharply 'tipped' window. The center panes were ever so clear, but they had stained glass panes aligning it on either side. It was wide enough to have a spectacular view of the frigid wasteland that that was currently being overwhelmed with a sea of inky black and several shades of grey. It was like the sky was threatening to flood the world, yet, as dignified as ever Remus stood there with his hands clasped at the small of his spine. He'd waited for this day. And with a rumble that would make one think the earth was shattering to pieces below their feet, a flash of light briefly illuminated the window panes. Exposing the faintest of grins.

    Yes, he had waited for this day. The day the world was soaked in grumbles from the heavens. The day the realm was saturated in rain. This day was special, this day was unique. It wasn't every day he got to assassinate those looking to either usurp him or make him the martyr. Remus was a dignified and a refined--but reasonable man. But the law was the law, a rule was a rule. There were two things in this world that couldn't be undone once done. An arrow let loose at the heart, and a persons words spilling from their last begotten breath.

    If you were to ask the townsfolk if Remus was an evil tyrant, they'd most assuredly deny the claim. But Remus himself, on the other hand, would wholeheartedly agree he was a vicious man by nature. Strong willed, and extremely bright for his age--he was definitely not one you wanted to cross. Still, he often wondered what life would have been like on the proverbial other side.Maybe there still wouldn't be any grass--but would there at least be...understanding? The world he grew up in, was chaotic as hell. In fact, it was hell. If not for an innate ability to read people--he'd have been dead long ago.

    It wasn't so much a truth, as a reality. It was reality check when, time after time, he'd try to drown himself only to feel his lungs about to burst and swim to the surface of a partially frozen river or lake. Wherever he could attempt it, he did. Yet every time he did so, he could see his life passing on by with faces he'd hardly known and that included his late father and former king. Every memory burned. It lit up behind his closed eyes like the soft glow of a firefly in the dead of night. And he'd hear his heart trying to jump start his reasoning.

    The truth was, he never wanted the mantle of ruler. He wanted to be happy about normal things; animals, flowers, a first kiss on a cheek. For years, and years he'd have to make do with the joy of dispatching rivals and dissidents as discretely and quietly as possible. So that no one would have to see the mess that had to be made to ensure peace in stability. He had to force smile, after smile, after smile upon himself when he learned more blood was on his hands. More sins coated his heart that was blacker than the clouds outside.

    The sad thing was...he grew to like it. No, like was to light a word. He grew to love it. It was the satisfaction of knowing, he'd done the right thing--even if the right thing hurt some people--it still protected the majority. This world was cold, cruel and unjust. Beorcs killed themselves in homicide, but then unleashed a ravenous anguish that lead to the holocaust of other races. He wasn't one to judge, after all, he was more a monster than a Laguz could ever hope to be. He was part of a forsaken race, a race that killed the very being that brought them into this existence. In truth, he rather admired other races. He found them fascinating to say the least.

    But, in the end--they were still enemies. Remus guaranteed Naga hadn't predicted it would ever come to this. The very races he helped brig life to--so different, and yet the same if but in one aspect: they'd be sure to kill the other. Extinction was the last card to be played by either hand, Remus almost wanted to lose. He felt pity, remorse and compassion for such rare creatures--he almost wanted to lose.

    Remus was a smart man, but even he couldn't tell how it would pan out. Depending on if the humans struck first or not, might be a deciding factor. But it would be pivotal that it would have to be a vital resource. Remus always had a rule in war: If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. And he was very much a man capable of performing the task. The lion cannot protect himself from traps, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognize traps, and a lion to frighten wolves....

    *************************************** Meanwhile...

    A hooded figure hurriedly rushed through the rain. He was covered in a cloak but it had been soaked to his bones. He wore skin tight leggings and doe skin boots. He carried a pouch that was very reminiscent of those used by couriers, so it was easily safe to assume he was. He quickly pounded on the door and who answered was a middle aged man with a large scar, stemming from the bridge o his nose where it met his forehead, and veered across his face--horribly scarring it. The mans hearth was aglow, and he was wrapped in a shawl and blanket.

    "Yes, who is it?" The older man snapped.

    "I have a letter to Tsaer." The courier spoke plainly.

    "Huh? From who?" The man began looking at the parcel. It was of ordinary material.Twine wraps and parchment wrapping.

    "I don't know sir, he simply asked if I was going this way and asked if I could drop this off for him. Even paid me handsomely. I figure it must be mighty important." By the time the man finished speaking, his words were slurring due largely to the cold.

    "Well, come in. I gotta read the damn thing since you came all the way." The older man continued talking even as he limped to his chair in front of the fire place.

    The house was just a small cottage. It didn't really have 'rooms' so much as small divisional walls. The bedroom was the living room which was blocked off by a small stone wall that hid a storage area. As the courier neared the man, he no longer acted cold. In fact, he stood as rigid as any ice formation it's self. The man opened the envelope and began reading and as he dead--it became all too clear what was to happen next.

    "Dear Tsaer,

    I hope you do not take this as a slight on my behalf. Our history is very precious to me. But I can not let you go unhindered old friend. I want you to know something; Men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, for everyone can see and few can feel. Every one sees what you appear to be, few really know what you are. That whoever desires to found a state and give it laws, must start with assuming that all men are evil and prepared to display their vicious natures."
    Sincerely, your King
    The older man stared out into the flames, watching them dance quietly as he let it all sink in.

    "I can't believe...I was trying to bait a mangy mutt...when it was a wolf in sheeps clothing." Tsaer spoke quietly.

    The courier stepped forwards, gripped the mans scalp--and in an instant, drew a dagger deeply along his throat. Gurgles and spouts of blood as the man convulsed with his dying breaths. Another political enemy silenced in the middle of the night.
    #14 Apollyon, Feb 19, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 22, 2014
  15. Galric remained seated throughout the entire conversation with the boastful young swordsman. He could tell Princess Adelaide was a bit nervous at meeting the others by the way she was playing with her skirt. He’d known her long enough, from a respectful distance, to know that as a sign, but her nerves seemed to be lost as she turned to scold the newcomer. But as the kid seemed to be more loud and enthusiastic then actually dangerous, Galric let the whole thing go and chose to sit instead in silence. He didn't know what to make of the others yet. He knew what they appeared to be but not what they were. What they were, well time would tell.

    High in the sky above a lone figure seated on the back of a snow-white Pegasus rode the wind. Raymond Lawrence, or Rae as she tried to get people to call her, though her father never would, enjoyed the rush of flight like nothing else. The wind through her silver hair, the entire world spread out before her, not even the reason for her flight could dampen her spirits. A hunting party or so she had been told. She was to protect her Lord and King as he ventured into dangerous lands, scouting ahead to help his comrades avoid danger as much as possible. Rae has no idea why he would choose to go on this quest himself, she could only hoped she could live up to the expectations that had been placed on her shoulders. She knew there were those better equipped for this task than her, men who had more experience, who had served the King directly before, but the General had chosen her, claimed she was the only choice, and there was no arguing with a general; especially, when that general was her father.

    She could see the King now, a speck on the distant ground. Though she had served under famous commanders in the past, this was her first time actually serving him. He had not been what she had expected at all. True she had seen the man across a crowded room or courtyard a couple times, giving speeches, or otherwise performing his royal duties, but seeing a man across a crowded room was a far cry from actually speaking to him. Rae was learning that the hard way. Nothing she had originally thought about him was true.

    The first time she’d ever seen him had been at a ball held in honor of his birthday when he was still a prince. She’d been nineteen then, though her hands were already calloused from the handling of a lance. Her youngest sister, Alexa, was still too young for such parties and had stayed a home with the nurse. The second youngest, Thea, at 16 had just come out into society and was standing with Josi and a gaggle of other woman gossiping as they watched the prince dance with some lucky flirt, looking every bit a young nobleman, the prince of their dreams. Rae knew better than to dream.

    Raymond, Josiah, Theodore, Alexander, at every birth her father had expected a son and hadn't bothered to change the name upon learning he had a daughter instead. Their mother hadn't argued. Of the four of them only Rae had lived up to the name.

    The then Prince danced, her sisters watched and flirted, and Rae sat quietly in a corner, dressed in navy satin, eyes scanning the entire room as if she were nothing more than a chaperon. Most people were kind enough to leave her there alone. Eventually she heard the group of girls speak her name just as the prince’s dance carried him close enough to hear as well.
    “Raymond?” Thea giggled, “No, no one’s courting her. She just doesn't like proper society is all.”
    “She prefers her lance to kisses, the battlefield to a ball room, and her Pegasus to men!” Josi quipped.

    Rae stayed seated, didn't even blink at the words. Let the world believe what it wanted to, her reasons were her own. Her sisters didn't know, couldn't know, what she was. In all the world the only people who did were her parents and the elderly serving woman who had brought her into the world, taking the place of a snow stranded midwife. The serving woman had since become nursemaid to Rae and her sisters, as well as Rae’s closest confidant. An extremely well paid nursemaid.

    The first time she had ever seen the man she now called her King, he had been a prince dancing past, close enough to hear her own sisters call her worthless as a woman, and she hadn't cared.

    Over the years, with her father’s blessing she had worked her way up through the military, proving her worth as a Pegasus knight, and avoiding high society when she could. Brief glimpses across a crowded room or courtyard were all she ever had of the man who became King, even as stories of his heroism filled her ears. She certainly never expected to meet him and when a General assigned her to accompany him on this mission, for a moment she felt as though her entire world was about to be turned upside down, and not for the better.

    It felt like months since then, instead of a few days. She’d flown into the palace stable-yard from morning training, meaning she been decked out in full armor including a fur lined riding cloak with the military insignia embroidered on one shoulder, and her father had met her and led her inside, explaining as they walked why she was there. He took her up a flight of stairs and onto a small balcony that overlooked the thrown room where people stood about below waiting for an audience with the King. Rae leaned against a post for a moment, looking down at them as General Lawrence explained why he had called for her.

    “ . . . So what do you think?”
    “He’s shorter then I remember,” she said trying to gain a few more moments to think.
    “About the mission.”
    “I don’t understand,” Rae stated softly lowering her voice, “What does the original guard assignment being put together by Tsaer have to do with me?”
    “Because Tsaer was found dead this morning,” her father hissed, “in front of his own fire. That means one of two things. It was an inside job carried out by one of his own men, or he attempted to plot against our king and paid the price when he was caught. Either way I can’t risk letting the men he assigned to the King go without a full investigation, which we don’t have time for, and I don’t have the time to vet anyone else either. That leaves me with you.”
    “Wait,” Rae stared as she bent down and leaned her elbows on the railing, “Are you telling me you think it’s possible his Highness is responsible for Tsaer’s death?” She kept her voice at a whisper not wanting this sort of conversation to be overheard.
    “Wouldn't be the first time,” General Lawrence answered. “Occasionally the rest of us miss something. We can’t keep our eyes on everyone twenty-four-seven. Not with an army to run as well. Men should face each other head on in battle, not scurry around in the shadows like common thugs. That man is a genius though. He sees what we miss. The stories,” he shook his head, “Not even half of them are true and those that are, are the darker ones. That’s just from what I know. What I know is like a teacup beside an ocean.”
    “And the uncertainty behind the motivation for Tsaer’s death makes me the best choice because you know you can trust me,” she clarified. “What about Sigma? She owes you her life several times over.”
    “Sigma’s current lover is the oldest son of the Tarsish family.”
    “I see the problem,” Rae frowned disappointed. She rather liked Sigma and it would have been good to have a friendly face to help her.
    “To be honest I probably would have picked you anyway,” he continued. “His highness doesn't need to be worried about watching his own people when he’s among foreigners, and you've got the strength and skill to more than make up for your size, not to mention you’re one of the best scouts I've ever seen. I’m saying this as a soldier and a General, not your father.”

    He turned so his back was to the railing as Rae watched the people below. “We need him, Raymond. We’re on the brink of a full-scale war with the shapeshifters and he’s the only thing holding this country together. We can’t afford to lose him to the petty schemes of our own politicians.”
    “What- “ she licked her lips and then continued, “What sort of man is he, really?”

    The general laughed as patted her shoulder causing her plating to clink together, “He’s a man worth dying for.” He answered with a chuckle, “anything else you’ll have to figure out on your own.” A man worth dying for, Rae mused, that was quite possibly the highest complement she’d ever heard her father give anyone. “Come,” he gestured for her to follow, “I’ll see if there’s time for introductions before I send you off to pack.”
    “Just me?”
    “Just you. Unless he asks for someone else. You’re going regardless.”
    “And if he discovers – If he decides you sending your own daughter is another plot?”
    “Then he’s given me far too much credit and I’ll take the complement.”
    Everything after that had passed with a blur and soon enough she’d been packing her gear, preparing for a journey that would lead to who-knew-where.

    And now, now she was in charge of that man’s safely.
    “A man worth dying for,” the words seemed to echo in her head as she flew. She had heard numerous stories about her king, but of everything she had heard, that one above all others, was the one she hoped was true.

    She sailed over the meeting place and back again before returning to the skies where her King, and those with him, could see her, unfurling a blue streamer from her left hand and letting it trail in the wind and she circled three times. The signal that it was safe to approach the clearing, but he would not be the first there. A moment later she was rewinding the streamer and directing her Pegasus towards the ground. "At-ta boy, Marko," she whispered to her companion as he hit the ground at a gallop and furled his wings as he slowed to a walking pace. "Well done, my friend, well done. I'll see if I can't get you some oats tonight."
    #15 Falcon, Feb 19, 2014
    Last edited: Feb 19, 2014
  16. [​IMG]

    Balls. Most would find it an incredibly festive event, and why not? Music and drinking merry, faces abound and good food. But that was a facade, just as his smile was. But even a faked smile could be mistaken for the real thing. A faked smile could also hide declarations unseen, unheard on hushed lips. Men in general judge more by the sense of sight than by the sense of touch, because everyone can see but few can test by feeling. Everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are; and those few do not dare take a stand against the general opinion. While his generals and commanders had waged their wars using armies to topple empires; kings need only use themselves accordingly. Swords and spears weren't as effective as words that swayed the hearts of those behind and around them. A single blade could only cut what its meant to cut, and cut it only as deeply as the blade allowed. Words however, words could pierce the strongest man and cripple him completely.

    This fantasy that everyone was living among him; a serene equanimity, was the largely the bigger fraud. When in truth, there lie in wait venomous serpents and hungry wolves in waiting. Being a king meant death. It in and of itself was a death sentence. It was just a matter of how and when--never if. Blades pointed at you from all angles, the water was poisoned and the food envenomed. Music could hide a shriek of pain or call for help and masked ballroom dancers could be the assailants themselves. All of these were factors. Paranoia was part of the game, the trick was to not let it cloud your judgement. Paranoia was a primordial tool concocted by ones's ancestors to make them cautious. Fear can be a good thing if one didn't let it rule them. No. It was a good thing when it made you question your choices, and reaffirm your convictions.

    These things in mind, Remus was armed. He was bolstered as any armored legionnaire, but that didn't guarantee safety. Still, he couldn't protect himself from everything. Nor would he, where would be the fun in that? Nay. He danced festively, and with good merry cheer. One lady asking him for his hand after the next,as soon as he would finish with one another would take her place. Soon he was switching off with them in mid step, trading partners with elegant grace and style and royal pomp.

    One Cinderella, two Cinderella, three Cinderella, four--Who oh who could be the Cinderella I adore? Five Cinderella, six Cinderella, seven Cinderella, eight--My Cinderella, My Cinderella who's kiss I await. Nine Cinderella, ten--I'll look for my Cinderella time and again....

    It was a mental guide he had learned when he was just a boy and being groomed for a position he neither wanted, nor liked. But, as his father used to say--When the willingness is great, the difficulties aren't great. His father taught him many things over the course of his young life before he assumed the throne after his father was assassinated. No one had a clue had killed the king and it was an outrage. But if ever there was an insight to who did it--Remus would simply say: That he who seeks to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived. For one who understood the psyche and how people worked made Remus especially dangerous, but at the same time, specially valuable. He was a general all his own; field commanders often had to rally the troops for the coming onslaught. They had to be decisive in their efforts to control the sway of battles. Remus did just that. But on a much larger scale.

    When he was finished, the young maidens would had been blessed with his hand and accompaniment were all sweaty and panting from exertion, meanwhile Remus himself was not. In fact he hardly seemed to have broken a sweat all. While they were panting and fanning themselves from the brisk movements, he was casually sauntering on through them with his argentine hair that was spilling over his mantle--flowing in the air that moved to capture it. He was a man of eloquent words and elegant composure. Seemingly haughty in nature, few new the truth. That this man, dressed in fine garbs could set aside elegance and trade it for ruthlessness. Few could guess he was a master of the sword, having seen him on the throne. But there was more to him than a pretty face and a fancy chair.

    When his general, and Rae's father approached he turned with a devilish smile and extended one of his black gloved hands. The two men shook upon getting in range of one another with her father even bowing in humbleness. Remus was utterly handsome. With a snowy complexion, it made the deep blue-purple of his eyes stand out like stars in twilight hours of the evening. He was only moderately taller than Rae herself, and though she would't perhaps be able to quite make out his stature otherwise--he carried himself in a calm, mannerly way. But there was something about him that would be so entrancing, and it would more than likely occur to her when he glanced at her directly. He held the face of a predator. That stoicism hiding a deadly interior. But strangely, it wouldn't be a frightening thing. At least, not yet. It was like he were able to hide it in plain sight and use his eyes to send signals--good or bad--to whom ever he locked on to.

    It was like being watched by an animal, but you really didn't know which way it was coming from. It was often both unnerving, and yet, erotic in a dominating way.

    "General, do you seek to usurp me by blinding me with this lovely girl's beauty and radiance before your dagger finds its mark?" He took her hand, and lifted it to his lips whilst holding his other arm behind his back properly.

    "Forswear I see quite the angel in you milady."


    "Well done, my friend, well done. I'll see if I can't get you some oats tonight."

    "Pegasi are quite the marvelous creatures, aren't they lady Raymond?" He questioned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere with his hands behind his back, walking casually and without haste towards her.

    "Stark white like our snowy lands and as fierce and brave as her people." He commented, stroking her mount's long snout. It began neighing, but Remus kept calm. "Shh...I'll be leaving soon, I know I scare you. I just wanted to say hi." He said quietly petting the soft white coat of the animal.

    ""Lady Raymond, I have a request for you: will you join me this afternoon in my study? You needn't answer now, your mounts on edge. She can smell the blood on my hands." He turned and walked quietly away, leaving her with her thoughts.
    #16 Apollyon, Feb 20, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 22, 2014
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  17. Freyja quietly analyzed the new arrivals - her shining emerald eyes scanning them all over, assuming their different fighting styles, skill and level. It was something she was accustomed to doing as the military commander of Grado. You never really know who will be your next lieutenant. It could be the beggar around the corner, it could be some insecure royalty brat. If need be she could train them into the hardened warriors this certain expedition needed. Maybe that's why those damn councilmen wanted her to come, maybe they knew that despite her uncouth language and mannerism she'd be able to turn this makeshift group into a group of laguz hunters. She especially would enjoy training this mere villager boy. She even laughed to herself about it, covering her curved red lips with her leather glove while doing so.

    She glanced back at the myrmidon, her eyes passionate and fiery. "I've yet to figure out just what cloth you've been cut from - but I guess that this will all come into light eventually yes?" Freyja spoke charmingly offering him a sly smile. Despite her initial negative reaction to this, there was some sort of hype in her. She felt rather pumped and even excited. She wondered if anybody could tell how she her pacing hastened. There was still more arrivals to come and her axe arm itched for a skirmish. It was odd how she would be able to excite herself at the most random of times, but in this case helpful. When Freyja's ready to fight..well it's most likely people are going to start dying.

    Heck, she was even contemplating starting her first training session with the younger boisterous swordsman right at this moment.

  18. "Pegasi are quite the marvelous creatures, aren't they lady Raymond?"
    Rae tried not to jerk up in her saddle when she heard the King’s voice and saw him approaching. True, she had seen him on the grounds when she had approached for her landing, but that had not meant she had expected him to speak to her.

    "Stark white like our snowy lands and as fierce and brave as her people."
    With her midsection unarmored to grant greater flexibility while in the air, he had to see the way she drew a deep breath, both to calm her nerves, and to keep herself from snapping at him for calling her Raymond. And then he reached for Marko. Light her Pegasus was a warhorse not a lady’s saddle mare. He had a habit of biting at strangers, especially male strangers!

    Rae tensed her legs against Marko’s flank and clenched her hands around the reigns, ready at any moment to pull the mount away from her King before any damage could be done. Keeping her eyes, fortunately a nice normal blue, fixed on the Pegasus as he neighed, and not on the King as he spoke. She only hoped he didn’t think her rude.

    "Shh...I'll be leaving soon, I know I scare you. I just wanted to say hi."
    Rae let out the breath she’d been holding when Marko flicked his ears back towards her, but did nothing other than neigh. Had she been out of the saddle things might have been different and so, contrary to protocol, she kept her seat.

    "Lady Raymond, I have a request for you: will you join me this afternoon in my study? You needn't answer now, your mounts on edge. She can smell the blood on my hands."
    Rae said nothing as he walked away. They both knew she would show. A request from the king was as good as a command after all. And from this man . . . Her mind blinked back to that first introduction so few days before.

    Rae’s heart had felt as though it was going to beat its way out of her chest during that first brief meeting with the King. It wasn’t because he was handsome, though he certainly was that. The deep blue-purple tone of his eyes combined with his snowy complexion and that smile was more than enough to make most of the court ladies she knew swoon with admiration. No, what had her heart pounding and so nervous she had started biting her lower lip was the air of authority that seemed to surround the man. It was the same sort of air her father carried, she noted as the two men shook hands and her father bowed, but the King’s was definitely to a greater degree. Rae was sure there were very few people in the room that could see it, the way those eyes had of looking through a person as if they could see into the very soul. She figured that those that could were either high ranked military or politicians. Rae had been raised by one and lived in the world of the other. But worse then that was the way those eyes seemed to peer out from behind a mask. She quickly realized it was only a facade the world saw, and the eye were the only clue it even existed. She had seen it, for a brief instant when the King greeted her father. She had seen that look on archers as they drew tight the moment before they let the arrow fly. Seemingly singularly focused on one place, and yet seeing everything and calculating for the barest change in the wind. She did not want to be on the other end when he let the arrows fly.

    With every heartbeat, with every glance, Rae began to realize why the stories existed, Why her father help the man in such reverence. With each breath she began to calm, understanding finally why it was her father said they needed this man alive, needed this man on the thrown. With each blink of her eyes her nervousness began to dissipate, turning instead into respect.

    And then the King ruined it all the moment he opened his mouth.
    "General, do you seek to usurp me by blinding me with this lovely girl's beauty and radiance before your dagger finds its mark?"

    Seriously? Her mind reeled as she watched the mask seem to cover everything again. Here she stood in full armor, her Lieutenant’s insignia pinned to her collar, her military cloak still on, Beside a General, ready to discus his safety and the preparations for the journey ahead, and The King decided to . . . flirt?

    "Forswear I see quite the angel in you milady."
    The corner of her mouth twitched in a frown before she could blank her fetchers enough to smile pleasantly and pretend she was flattered. Her eye flicked briefly to her father who gave the slightest shake of his head.

    They had been dismissed shortly after that, and though she had readied for travel and slept well the nights since, she still could not get that moment from her mind. Had she really seen what she had thought she had seen? A brief moment when the man behind the mask had shown through? Or had it all been just a trick of the light and those beautiful eyes and he was only what he appeared to be on the surface?

    Some time after she had stabled Marko and given him a proper rub down, followed by a quick bath herself, for it would not due to approach the king smelling like sweaty Pegasus, Rae, once again in armor, approached the palace at the suggested time.

    A servant led her inside and to the King’s study, where leaving her outside to wait he entered to announce her presence and ask if she could be seen. The servant in question left the door open a crack and she was able to hear the exchange.

    “Forgive me, Sire, but Lieutenant Lawrence is here to see you? She says you sent for her?”
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  19. [​IMG]

    In the waning hours of the evening, he had bathed himself, but rather than hastily dressing himself entirely, he remained half undressed. Part of this was a psychological test. He didn't need a person--man or woman--fawning over him when deliberating serious matters. Nor did he excuse not being looked in the eye because he was missing a simple piece of clothing. He needed someone that was just as comfortable with him with his shirt as they could be with it on. That said, it was also partly because he had become engrossed in one of his many passion--writing. He loved to write. To tell fantastical tales, or eloquent poems that could pluck at the heart's strings. It was an escape for him, one of very few.

    I’m not without a spirit that can hold up to the torture
    Not without a will to stop the cycle that marauders
    Not without a mind to free the hate within my border
    And to cleanse the vessel into which my consciousness is ordered
    I’m not afraid of monsters that intimidate and taunt you
    Not afraid to challenge all the violence and slaughter
    The leviathans that haunt are hardly deadly out of water
    I’ll find a way to offer the elixir of disorder
    So many trails have crossed the rivers forged from all our tears
    So many paths have left us all alone during these years
    So many that we’ve lost but I can feel their presence near
    I can see a road ahead that leads beyond the known frontier
    So lift yourself up slowly and rest your eyes upon me
    And let the sad and lonely float away and disappear
    And leave the guilt and shame and all the anger and the fear
    Lets trade it for the will to find a way to persevere

    How long can one survive among the horror
    Live among the demons that all seethe in darkened corners
    Cling to all the grief released in tidal waves upon you
    Proclaim it isn’t fair, content to bear forever mourner
    This moment is in order
    Now let the waters pass
    Let the smoldered ash remain beside the olden past
    Leave it on behalf of those who crave to hear you laugh
    And walk among the living as you find a way to last

    Sometimes the words would flow more freely, sometimes a little more eloquently. Whenever it came was not up to him. It was like the rain; coming and passing but leaving the spring of life in its wake. His thoughts were often chaotic. Often deferring to things other than himself. It had become increasingly that way--almost to the point where he felt, like that feeling of falling before sleep--forgetting his own identity would be as simple a task. He wasn't sure if it was a bad thing anymore, that the sensation, no longer frightened. He'd even told himself, often, while laying with one arm over his eyes to just...fade away. At times he wish he could. He wished he could transcend this world. He felt like he was but a voice in a choir, trying to standout, but never being quite loud enough to do so.

    “Forgive me, Sire, but Lieutenant Lawrence is here to see you? She says you sent for her?”

    "Yes, please, send her on in." Remus retorted, scribing his name with the quill as if signing off on a document. It was a habit.

    With that he rose to meet Raymond in greeting. Only, his chest was still glimmering from the hot bath he had recently expunged the days labors in. His silvery hair too, clung messily to his face and neck. Ordinarily it would be feather, and extraordinarily soft--even gleaming line a stallions fur coat. But this appearance, definitely could let the mind wander. Finally however, she would be able to clearly size him up without the intricate and ostentatious attire he would normally be garbed in.Now he was in black leather pants that tied at either side of the waist with straps of sinew. Black shin high doe skin boots and he actually had his white shirt hanging from one hip as it was partially tucked away beneath the brim of his pants.

    His upper build was muscled. Well muscled, but not bulky in the least. The water seemed to act like a marker of sorts; every trace of musculature it followed. This included the slight bulges of taut muscle on his abdomen that spelled out a hard stomach to say the least. His shoulders and arms were corded with trim muscle that 'rippled' as they shifted to and fro while he stood there awaiting her entry--looking over documents with keen unforgiving eyes. With every breath he inhaled, his broad powerful chest rose to the occasion. He then looked up at Raymond, seemingly undaunted by the fact he was half buff before her. Regardless, he would secretively begun surveilling her every move, every breath--every eye bash. It wasn't a matter of distrust. He felt fine about her. He was more...curious as to her actions.

    "Come in, please have a sit." Remus never missed a step. Always hospitable, always nonchalant. "We have much to discuss, but I must first ask that what is said in this room--stays in this room. There have been many words passed around in here--more than the contents of the numerous volumes you see around you." He twirled his finger for emphasis, but was smiling.

    It would be hard to imagine the conjecture--there were more than three hundred tomes and books stashed neatly on the shelves. But their discussion was right in the middle where there sat a small, but plush bench as well as a leather bound chair facing it. To the side, her right his left, was a large mouthed but beautifully carved granite fireplace that was already crackling and keeping the room warm from Frelia's infamous snowy weather.

    "Miss Mirabelle, would kindly fetch us something to drink? We're...going to be here a while I feel."

    "Right away your lordship."
    #19 Apollyon, Feb 20, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 22, 2014
  20. [​IMG]

    Seeing the boys ever growing enthusiasm, Annto simply allowed the corners of his lips to crack into a most hidden smile. "If blood, and the last light of a man's dying eyes were glory... then I would have much, young legend. Though your legacy may be short should you not learn to temper that fire you hold... as you may scorch the ears of the Monarchy. Some might find your claims rather... empty, and distasteful. Though Princess Adelaide seems more reasonable than most." Shifting to allow his shoulder to support his weight, Annto rested his right arm inside his shirt.

    "If you would like to spar, I can provide when I find a suitable practice blade. Though you'll have to ask the lady's permission if you wish to draw the first bruise." He hinted to Freyja by moving his gaze to the woman, and then back to the boy. Then to answer Freyja, he turned his purple flaked amber eyes, and rubbed his chin lightly. "Just enough to keep the winter winds at bay."

    He was amused at her quickened pacing. The woman seemed eager for adrenaline, and the Myrmidon was quite certain that this expedition would find just that... and much, much sorrow.​
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