Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Rainjay, Dec 30, 2014.

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  1. [​IMG]
    based loosely on the novel by Kristin Cashore

    stiron is a continent on Terra; the Isle of Man. It is largely segregated from the rest of Terra, and for good reason. The men and women in Estiron are caught in never ending conflict, be it war, hatred, or even disease. Nobody wants to meddle in the affairs of Man.

    The nature of Man has also segregated itself from nature, and magic. They live in a harsh, drab reality, distanced from the fantasy of the world; their only connection to the peoples and lands outside of Estiron is through fairytale and myth. And, of course, the Gracelings.

    Those that are Graced have abilities straight out of a children's storybook. They are strange, unusual, and unreal, and as such the Graced are isolated and feared. However, the royal courts of the kingdoms of Estiron find the Gracelings quite useful, taking advantage of their powers to wage war against each other, using them to spur the eternal conflict amongst each other.

    For centuries the Graced have been abused in this way, but no more.

    The kingdoms are falling one by one into one of the greatest wars of Mankind, and the Graced are on the frontlines. They act as spies, warriors, knights, medics, and more, and in some cases, they will be the first to die. It is a Graceling's war, initiated by Man; and the Court finds this absolutely distasteful. They will do anything to stop the Graced from fighting their own kind, and to liberate them from the kings and queens that use them as pawns.

    Will you help the Graceling rebellion, or will you take the side of the royal kingdoms of Estiron?


    "Give me the reports, Lord Denerim." The loud, booming voice of the King echoed across the hall from where he sat on his solitary throne. His wife stood beside him, disinterested in the happenings in the room, although her eyes betrayed her to Arwen, who knew the Queen perhaps better than the King himself. The woman's blue eyes were alight with masked interest, and were trained right at the scroll that Lord Denerim held.

    The Lord, a burly man with a tumbling of brown hair on his head, walked forward from his position before Arwen and handed off the scroll to the King, who unraveled it after shooting a warning glance at his wife. She inched away, looking towards Arwen in a panic; the younger girl just smiled, and returned her glance to the King.

    "Is all satisfactory, King Richmond?" Denerim asked smoothly. The King looked up from the scroll, clearing his feverish gaze, and nodded.

    "Yes, yes, all is well. I expect you've looked at it too, Denerim; and I expect you to organize troops in response immediately. I want them to leave before sundown." the man ordered, rolling back the scroll and handing it to another man who stood at his side; the King's 'adviser'. Truly, the man was less of an adviser than he was an annoyance to everyone in the Court and in the kingdom, but the King insisted. The man was his distant cousin, and he was being saved from a rather awful fate back in Asene with this position as adviser. It couldn't be said that the King did not look after his family.

    Arwen bowed as Denerim turned to leave. "Shall I be traveling with the troops?" she asked, looking up with as much of a demure impression as she could attempt.

    The King shook his head, waving her off. "No, no. I'll have something else for you to do later, girl. Go prepare for dinner tonight." he said. He then faced his wife. "You, too, love. We'll be meeting with the Asene ambassador. I expect little talk of a peace treaty but we can sure try. Blasted Asenines."

    Arwen ducked out of the room as quickly as she could, slipping from her long skirts a scroll; the real scroll. She'd transcribed a new copy for the King on their return journey to the court, and the real one... that was for the real Court. There was a meeting this evening. They had much to discuss. For now, she was to find Elidyr; they'd yet to inform her of the Court meeting, and she assumed the girl was to be attending the same dinner as she. It'd be best to leave her with a warning.


    Rydelle couldn't believe her ears. Rhodontaea? She was going to Rhodontaea? Of all places to travel to, the Queen was sending her to the coldest place in Estiron, in the middle of the long northern winter season. The mountains they would have to cross would be beyond freezing, almost impossible to cross, and yet, the Queen wanted her to travel with half of the royal army to prepare for war. In the middle of the northern winter season. And she doubted she was getting a ship to travel on.

    The redhead usually was apt to listen to the Queen's requests, no matter how ridiculous, but this was past the line. War or no war, nobody was crossing those mountains until the season had passed.

    "Your Majesty, please reconsider. The mountains;"

    "Will be of no trouble to you. There are plenty of men in your troops to pass through with ease, and Rhodontaea has offered full services. You can rest at any inn, receive food at any tavern. You'll be fine." the Queen remarked. She was sitting in her high-backed dinner chair, holding a glass of red wine delicately in one hand, a sweet bun in the other.

    She turned to wave dismissively- with the sweet bun hand- towards Rydelle. "Go. Prepare your troops. You leave in a week."


    "I gave you an order, Rydelle." The Queen warned with a glare that could burn holes into the universe itself. There would be no crossing her. Not today.

    It took her all to curtsy and lower her head to the Queen. "Yes, your Majesty." Her voice shook with anger, although the Queen either didn't notice or didn't care.

    Rather suddenly, the doors at the dining hall burst open, cracking against the walls. Two harried men came tumbling in; one was holding onto his side like he was holding in his guts, while the other had a bloodied bandage of his eye. They looked exhausted, and worn out; the travelers had even abandoned their packs. Then Rydelle remembered who they were. They were two men sent with the ambassador to Osion.

    "You interrupt my meal," the Queen said, barely raising her eyes from her plate. "And my daughters' meals as well. What is it?"

    "The ambassador, your Majesty! He has been slain."​
  2. Elidyr gathered a handful of her dress as she stooped to pick up a fallen rag. She'd spent a majority of the morning here, in the library, dusting and helping clean. It was quiet and cozy, but mostly it was secluded, moreso than her room seemed at times. At the moment, it was mostly just dusty.

    The dark skinned lady didn't read a lot, and it might have been obvious in the way she cleaned the tops of the books for dust, running the dirty rag along with the speed of someone just trying to get on to the next task, but it was clear she still respected the place for the way she slid the book into it's niche, and worked the older books with practiced care.

    Sometimes even cleaning was better than nothing, and her room was not overly personal, so it boiled down to dust, and once that was done, it turned to more dust and anywhere she could do just that. She thought to try helping in the kitchen, but she didn't like to cook, apparently there was artistry to it and she just preferred to get it done.

    The librarian came into sight down the shelves of books, picking up several books from a place on his desk. He was organizing them, she thought, she didn't bother to get involved in his business and he wasn't very chatty. He glanced from his desk and caught Elidyr in his peripheral. "Still here," he said, loud enough for her to hear but probably meant to himself. She frowned slightly, but didn't take it personally. She didn't think he meant it as an insult, more like commenting on her perseverance.
  3. The young boy yawned, feeling quite sleepy still. Time for another boring day, Savien thought. He went through his usual morning routine: He woke up, was given a delicious breakfast in bed, brought to the washroom to be bathe, afterwards he was dressed up in shirt and trousers of finest quality then left to do whatever he liked, after the maids were done grooming with him. The next installment of his books are still coming in the next few days along with other things, and Savien practically read the whole library. There was only very few books that he liked rereading even though he knew perfectly what was going to happened next.

    He walked to the his enormous library, the servants moving far away from him as much as possible, avoiding to even look at him. Savien shrugged, he gotten used to it or rather it didn't bother him as much as before. He memorized which and where every book on every shelf and it's corresponding topic. He sighed deeply and decided to walk to the shelf that had all his favorites. He randomly picked one and left to go paint since he wasn't exactly in the mood to read.

    He sat down on the floor, flipping the pages with care on what he might based the painting on. The book was a compilation stories of legends and myth. "No, no. Definitely not." he said in a disinterest tone to himself "No. Mmm, maybe? No actually no." he stopped at a particular page before losing interest and flipped the page again. After much mental debate, he picked the story of a man and lions. He has never seen an actual animal before besides insects from the garden, stray cats and dogs that wonder to his home and birds. He found it strange that he never seen much animals despite living in a forest, that was supposedly crawling with all sorts of creatures.

    Savien walked up to an easel, fit for his size with an empty canvas waiting for him to work on. All of his other works which were in another room, was being dried before they hang it up somewhere in the house. One of his paintings, he thought, was probably dry now since he made it, a few months ago, probably? It was hard to make up a sense of time from where he lived in. With a paintbrush in his right, and on his left, was a small table for him to use for his paints. He thought for a moment, trying to recall the words described of the man in the story, as he started to paint.
  4. Eren's mismatched eyes scanned the field ahead of him, 45 meters out and ahead of him was a target. He stood in a simple tunic and trousers, no shoes and a quiver of arrows laying on a rock beside him. He was off duty, spending his time shooting at a target because he could and wanted to. It wasn't practice for him, it was simply to pass the time and nothing more. In one fluid motion he pulled an arrow from the quiver, knocking the arrow and drawing back. As he pulled the string back, hitting its peak. He never let his elbow lock before releasing the arrow, letting it fly through the air and embedding itself into the target. Straight on the bullseye. "Must be pretty easy...being Graced with archery. How does it work? Do you just pull and let go or do you actually have to focus on what you are doing?" A member of the Royal Guard spoke up, he had been watching Eren shoot a few arrows for awhile now.

    "It just happens. I don't have to really think about it when a bow is in my hands. It's like...." He was slumped on what to compare it to for a moment before turning his head to look at the Guard. "Think of it like breathing...our bodies just do it. Same with a Grace, we just do it. We don't think about it, it just happens." He looked back down at the finely crafted bow in his hand, frowning for a moment. Gracelings were always treated like trash or with too much respect that it was worrisome. He was treated kindly by the King and by most of the Royal Guard, not all of it. Captain was just a Title he got within the Guard, and many of the Guard remind him of that.

    "Well, Captain, it is time for our shifts to begin and maybe the King would wish to have an audience with you." The guard, named Roland laughed before readjusting the sword strapped to his side and pushing off the wooden fence he leaned against. His metal boots roughly grinding into the soft soil underneath. "Yeah..." He said dryly, his attitude towards most of the Guard was neutral if not plain. Unless you were Graced, or truly treated him with respect, then you would get nothing from him.

    Eren walked the halls, adorning his Royal Guard armor with the mark of a Captain on his shoulder. Though his armor differed from the other Guard, it was lighter, not as heavy and as protective. It let him move freely, able to use his bow and move whenever he felt like with little hindrances. Perfect for him, despised by the Guard that he had armor crafted to suit his needs.

    He let a small yawn escape, stopping in the middle of his step as he noticed Arwen hastily walking down the hall. She seemed to be in a rush and he was a bit concerned. He has taken a liking to Lady Arwen, mainly for the fact she is kind to him and a Graceling like him. "Lady something wrong?" His black and red eye showing slight concern for her. The face she held...was different than other times. Like she was carrying a burden almost, or maybe he was delving too deep into this.
  5. He didn't like wearing armor, and often wiggled out of it as soon as he could. None of the pieces seemed to fit him, or rather, the suppliers didn't care to give him pieces that fit together properly. As a result, he often had marks from where the weight indented his skin on top of looking like an over-sized sword target. Because he wasn't formally part of the court, Robyn didn't wear anything extravagant like the court peacocks, only mismatched hand-me-downs. Robyn didn't mind much, he found it more comfortable than running around in fancy silks with shoes that pinch.

    Finally off duty, he could finally sit around and chat. Because he never slept, he often spent a lot of time alone which was actually something he didn't like to be. His single honey eye glinted in the sun while he slipped into the first room he could find, turning halls at random. Sometimes he wasn't stopped and asked what the hell he was doing, other times he was left alone. His whole body was itching to talk to someone, whether they would actually listen to him wasn't something he actually cared about. Being idle made his mind wander, and the Gods above knew he did a lot of wandering when solitary.

    His feet moved into a fast paced walk, no particular direction in mind. The corner of his eye spied two other graced, both he'd seen before but never talked to. One a captain and the other a Lady of the court. Robyn didn't know them, and leaned against the wall some distance away from them. It was rude to stare, but he couldn't help himself.
  6. Arwen hadn't noticed her pace of step until she was stopped by Eren- Captain Eren, she reminded herself- in the hall. She clutched her fingers tighter around the scroll she carried, attempting to smooth out her features and clear the emotion from her face as she slowed to a stop and looked up. As usual, the color of his eyes were appalling to her; no matter how many times she'd seen them and no matter how many Gracelings she had seen, the red and black was certainly unusual in color, something to give pause. Those eyes distracted her for a moment, and then she ripped her thoughts away from the foolish matter, and summed up a small smile.

    "Yes, Captain, I'm quite alright. Perhaps a little harried, I suppose." she answered, calm and poised as ever. Although, she couldn't help the worried look in her eyes. "I'm to be preparing for this evening's dinner. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, but you know-" she paused to roll her eyes a bit. "The King always has his ways. The ambassador, for Asene, he's arriving tonight. They'll be talking peace."

    She knew Eren was loyal to the Osion court, how could she not? But she still held some hope that she could introduce him safely to the Graceling side of things. For being a man who only possessed a title so that it would sate his emotions, he was awfully tranquil with things in the court, and it sometimes disturbed Arwen. She, too, often acted the same way. She took a liking to Eren because of their likenesses. But it also seemed as though there was no flip side to him, as there was to her. Sure, he had a kind side, much kinder than Arwen ever was, but he also didn't ever seem to feel discontent at the King's rule. Or perhaps she had just never noticed.

    She took a risk, dropping hints the way she did like breadcrumbs through a forest. "The Court has me quite busy this time of year. I cannot imagine that all of this will stop a war, but I can certainly try," she said. "Although my ways are a touch unorthodox, as anyone here would assume. I guess it's expected of me."

    "Have you seen Elidyr at all? I'm to be passing along the message of the dinner. We have some Court matters to discuss." she offered another friendly smile, shrugging her shoulders. "I can never find her in this forsaken castle. She's always off doing this or that- or perhaps my Grace makes me a blind guesser. It is the opposite of Instinct."
  7. Savien has finished working on most of the painting, only needing to give more details and giving the final touches, more or less. Whenever he painted, it required such mental concentration and he wasn't particularly inspired. He placed the paintbrush on the table before walking to the couch and slumping down on it. He ran through his messy hair, "Maybe I'd work better outside." he murmured, glancing at the outdoors through the window. He looked back at the painting. He sat upright, crossing his legs on the chair which was bad manners not that there was anyone to scold him about it. He pouted and sulked. This is so boring. Boring. Boring. Is this what he was gonna do for the rest of his life? He was good as dead then. He licked his lips that grew chapped before standing up again.

    "I'm a drawing a lion, yet I never seen one." he muttered ironically as he gotten off the couch. How long must he endure this? He practically did everything besides actually living. He groaned and walked to the canvas, studying his unfinished work. If one were to describe it, it was done well and appeared realistic. From it's golden mane, to it's tangy paws, the proud and noble aura that exudes off. Savien placed his finger on his chin and stared at the painting for good couple of minutes until he noticed there was delicious smell in the room. On the table, he has failed to notice a plate of treats and beverage waiting for him to consume. "Ah, I haven't have my snacks yet." he just remembered.

    He was too focus on painting earlier, and the maid have probably new better than to disturb the young master while he is otherwise occupied. He went back to the couch and made himself cozy before he started munching on the sweets. He looks outside, trying to figure out the time despite there was perfectly good clock in the room he could use. "I still have time to burn down this food before dinner." he announced to no one in particular. While he was eating, he started recalling the story he was painting of the man and lion. "The man, was apparently a good person." he commented "Then he was thrown with the lions." he narrows his eyes, as he thinks it over.

    "This doesn't really make sense. The man is trapped. The lions are noble creatures of the forest and ferocious carnivores. I don't see the moral or the relation." he munched on his cookie, mulling things over. He talked with himself often, because he haven't find any willing conversation partner but besides his books, he found himself often talking to paintings as well. He stared at the painting he's still not done with. "I don't know why I chose this." he sighed for what felt the thousandth time before finished his food and started to finish what he has started.
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