The Shadows of Aeios

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  1. The Shadows of Aeios

    * Character and Faction Rosters
    * Character Dump
    1302, 3rd of October


    The Rehonian Empire, often called the Empire by its population, is standing firm and strong. With decades and decades of peace, the Empire had only so far to fight off the barbaric tribes in the north. With the legions, strong and mighty, it managed to keep its borders intact to this very day. As the stability and peace is maintained, there is a danger slowly rising. There are some soft mutterings and whispers about a certain faction that is called 'The Vultures'. Who they are, nobody can answers that question. All that is know is that people are aware that it sounds like bad news.

    But with the winter approaching, people are more busy with preparations. The farmers bring the last of their supplies to the market. At least what they can miss and hope that will attract buyers. The other commoners prepare in trying to make sure that they have the needed supplies to try to survive the winter without needing to sleep with hunger. The nobles are usual busy with their political games, trying to always gain more power or making that their station is certain. Or as certain as they can make it from others.

    Thus it is that many don't bother much with the rumors of these 'Vultures', but there are other dangers you must be careful for. Even with the peace, there are always people who wish for more. And often won't be afraid to take a life or two to make sure they get what they want.

    The question is however,

    Are you one of them or are you a victim to be?
    #1 Aliceee, Dec 18, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 19, 2014
  2. "I'll set you right up with a nice girl, with the way you look and our family's name, you could have any woman in the whole world!"

    "Yes, mother, you've told me before. Just please let me actually meet the woman you've lined me up with before getting me married. The last thing I'd want is to be married to some crazy woman." Jonas said back to his mother, a smile appearing on his face as he moved towards the door, placing a long fur coat over his fine clothing which indicated he was a person of high importance. He was a Hjamlar after all, the last thing he needed was to accidently dress like a commoner then get scolded by his family for misrepresenting them.

    "Well you know your father, Jonas, I imagine he already has twelve potential brides lined up for you.

    "Last thing I need is twelve wives." Jonas mumbled, not loud enough that his mother heard the comment.

    "What was that," She asked, hands on her hips. Then rolled her eyes as her son began to open the door. "Where are you going?"

    "To take a stroll. Can't keep me copped up all day and night, I need to stretch my legs a little. I'd go mad if all I was able to do was sit inside and twiddle my thumbs."

    "Can you please be back before dinner? I think the cooks have something special brewing."

    "Of course, mother." Jonas said with a nod, then exited the building, going down the steps as he made his way into the less boring part of the city. Closing his fur cloak around his body. On a warmer day he would've been all for showing off his apparel, but it was too damn cold, and it was only going to get colder.

    Before going any further he paused, running a quick self check to make sure he had anything he might need. His hand running down his leg to find his dagger tucked into the a hidden sheath just above his boot. His greatsword was in his room back home, but he always carried a dagger with him, never knew when you'd need it. With that he was off, wandering into the market, still making up his mind where to head to, finally settling upon the tavern.

    He enjoyed occasionally blending in with the lower class folk, seeing how they lived their lives, he had a grudging respect for some of them. Those that had to work to live, to feed their families. It was a very different lifestyle from his, one that he would never wish to live, but one he could perhaps sympathize with. He cleared his thoughts as he weaved through the bustling market, avoiding bumping into anyone or stepping on any feet. He managed to get through the crowds, finding his way into a tavern, which was busy but not overcrowded. It'd work as a place to relax.

    "Ale please." He asked the bartender, placing down the payment for the drink, then leaning against the bar. His eyes wandering around, scanning the interior. Then he heard someone speak to him.

    "Do I know you from somewhere, pretty boy?" A man asked from behind Jonas, who turned around to face the speaker.

    "No, you must have me confused with someone else, friend," Jonas said back, almost grinning at the pretty boy comment. "I'm just a soldier on leave looking for a drink."

    Yeah, I'm sure..." The man said back, then walked away from Jonas who turned back to the bar, patiently awaiting his drink order.
  3. Alisa Perar,
    In Hials,

    First dancing lesson.
    Part I.

    Puffing her cheeks, Alisa leaned on the balustrade as she eyed the people from her position. They were just minding themselves. Probably just heading to work or to their jobs. Not being trapped inside a fortress in order to become useful for their family in a meaning of what one could consider a simple sort of tool. Letting out a heavy sigh, Alisa turned her blue colored eyes to the sky and frowned. She couldn't tell how late it was even though she had once seen her father doing that trick. If he was only here now then she wouldn't be bored. A man who always knew interesting stuff to tell or to teach her. Mumbling something, Alisa decided to take a small walk.

    Walking in a slow pace, Alisa didn't look around with a curious look. The part of the fortress she was walking in was known to her. It was part of her life, actually. The part where the lower house of Perar lived, those who inhabited Hials at least. There were some other parts that were unknown to her, but without any proper or good reason to roam there, Alisa knew better. If she would be caught there then she would be in some more serious trouble than not listening to some stupid lesson of Madame Maria. Scoffing as she thought of the silly woman who tried to make a lady out of her, Alisa thought of what had been promised to her. Today she would have her first dancing lesson. Though she didn't like the sound of that, a dancing lesson, Alisa would try to do her best. Her father had after all arranged it before he had went off to do his duty.

    For more than twenty minutes, Alisa just walked around. This part of the fortress was so familiar for her that she believed she could walk without her eyes and still be where she would need to be. Deciding to head to the room where she would have her dancing lessons, Alisa wondered what kind of dancing her father would want her to learn. Perhaps one where she could make fun out of Madame Maria? That would be great, but her father wouldn't probably do that. Coming to a halt, Alisa looked at a door. Perhaps it was time? Just as she reached with her right hand towards the door handle, her eyes widened.

    ''Ah, you arrived. Alisa of Perar, no?''

    There was a man standing the door opening. He had a polite smile. Being taller than Alisa, he looked down, but there was no some sort of arrogance or what so ever that would have made Alisa already dislike the man. ''Yes, mister....'' She said, slowly stopping as she hoped he would give his name in return.

    Stepping away so that she could enter the room, the man brought his right hand to his chin, rubbing his beard. ''I must say that when I heard I would give dancing lessons to a small girl that I had... expected you a bit... bigger.'' The words were spoken with a friendly and polite tone and manner, yet Alisa didn't experience them as a compliment. Glaring at the man as she entered a rather spacious hall, she kept herself silent.

    ''But that is good. Very good.'' Closing the door behind him, the man flashed a warm smile. ''My name is Paul Sternheart. I'm for now you're dancing mentor. For better and for worse.'' After the words a moment of silence dawned in the room. Alisa kept staring at the man. Making a small and polite, at least according to Madame Maria, bow towards the man she spoke back. ''Alisa Perar. Daughter of Vincent Perar.''

    ''Then I suppose we can begin. But first, what can you tell me about a sword, girl?'' Paul asked, with a bit more serious question. One that made Alisa frown a bit. Placing her fists against her hips, she raised her head a bit as she answered back. ''That is a weapon that is regarded a weapon of status. Good to poke holes in a man or trying to slash out his internals.''

    Paul chuckled as he walked towards the center of the room. Though he seemed content with her answer, Alisa wasn't sure if her was good enough and it irked her that he said nothing. He just chuckled. What did that mean? Was he laughing at her? The thought alone made her cheeks fluster a bit, but she held her tongue.

    ''Then, shall we begin?''
  4. Walking in the main road of the Deliar, Hector sighed and looked around a bit. People were going about their business as usual, with nothing too interesting going on. Going to the market place, he approached a stall with apples and took out of his pocket a couple of silver denars before grabbing an apple and tossing the denars to the owner, who needed before putting those in his pocket. Taking a bite from the apple, Hector spotted the perfect place for him to take a rest at.

    Breaking into a light job among the many people, he went and got into a small alley between a couple of the houses overlooking the market. Hector managed to find a small stack of crates, which didn't make for too much height, but it was exactly what he needed to get started. He climbed the crates with light and quick steps before taking two steps on the wall of one of the houses. He then reached out his right hand and just barely grabbed the hanging rope that was there. Feeling that it wasn't a strong rope, he moved with it just a bit before reaching the window from which it extended out, and he managed to move into the ledge of the window before the rope gave out.

    Pulling himself up, he saw the room the window showed was empty, and he took the chance to move to properly stand on the lower frame of the window with his feet while holding his hands on the upper frame of the window. Looking around, Hector couldn't find any easy way to the roof, and just hanged himself there for a couple of moment before looking back. The hanging rope led from the window to the window of the opposite house, which had a slightly more comfortable roof to reach, but the rope leading to the other window wasn't in a condition to be used anymore. Sighing, he looked at the roof above him. If he made a jump, there was a small chance he could reach it, but it was also risking a broken leg or two. A useless risk.

    Slowly getting down, Hector moved to hang himself from the window's frame before letting go and landing on the crates, which was a bit rough and made the crates shake. He walked around a bit more before spotting empty barrels outside of a tavern. Those weren't piled up, but the tavern wasn't too tall either, and there were a few windows that belonged to the resting rooms that the tavern had. Moving in quick and easy steps, he jumped on the barrels and jumped from them, grabbing a hold of the window frame which was just above the barrels. From it he pulled himself up and once he was steady on the window's frame, he made another jump, using the upper part of the frame as a further boost once his feet reached it, and managed to reach the roof. Pulling himself up, he let out a sigh before looking at the view the roof provided. It wasn't the best, but it was a nice one.

    Sitting down, Hector realised that the apple he previously bought wasn't on him, and he figured that he must've dropped it unknowingly which doing the first jump at the previous spot he tried. Figuring that its just an apple and nothing more, he moved onto looking at the view, leaning on his hands and just enjoying the calm and somewhat peaceful spot he had found himself.
  5. Leeson
    City of Deliar inside the Boot Buckle

    The sounds of soft hammering echoed in a dusty old forge. Aside from the lights that could shine through the faded storefront windows, it was dark, sans for the embers that warmed the bed of a forge. Beside the forge was a young man, hamming into shape a shovel's head. This one would go for seventy-five silvers; if he could get at least five more gold denars, he'd have enough money to pay off the store for this month. If he could finish these orders of shovels, he'd get at least two gold denars. And that's often how Leeson's life went; surviving from one tax day to the next, struggling to make ends meet. If someone broke into his forge right now, the only thing worth taking would be his hammer, tongs, and maybe some furniture. Before they used to put on display everything and anything they could make; axes, hammers, trowels, barrel bands, door locks, even some swords. But as Leeson began to lose more and more business, he had to sell many of his show pieces to the government. And now all he has to give is the forge itself.

    Leeson's life at the forge was a complicated one. Honestly, he'd much rather be rid of it. His father would be turning over his grave to know that they lost it, but Leeson just couldn't find it within himself to settle down like this. Not without moving next towards the nearest tavern so that he could drown his sorrows away at the end of each hour. But again, it's his family's forge; they've kept it for many generations now, and he'll be damned if he simply hands it over to them. It was a very love-hate relationship, like how one would feel that they should love their father for simply being their father, but hate the man due to their overbearing personality. Leeson is reminded of a turn used by one of his friends, who raises hounds: Imprinting. Children do it at a young age so that they know who their guardians were and who they should go to in their time of need. Well, Leeson lost his a while back, and has been lost ever since.

    His internal ramblings were interrupted when he heard knocking at his door. Having just finished up his last shovel the young smith got up from his spot and went to answer it. Opening the door he had expected to see someone of his height, but instead it was a small child. He recognized him as the youngest child of a forester. "S-sir, I need your help. I can't get inside my house!" Leeson than remembered who this child belonged to. A fairly rich forester, whom had placed an order to have a lock built into their main entrance. That made a pretty penny for Leeson, 10 gold denars. But it was unlikely that this child had any money to purchase his service. Grabbing his hat, staff, rope, and tucking his dagger underneath his robe, Leeson motioned for the child to lead.

    Walking through lower Deliar was a familiar scene for Leeson. It was both parts pitiful and beautiful; the walls and buildings of Deliar were made by the skilled and caring hands of artisans many years ago, who's handiwork still outshine the sun itself even to this day. But that's from inside the walls; outside of it, in the commoner district, it was a little less pleasing. At best, it's cramp and has a strange stench. At worse, it may be the breeding ground for a plague and you could not see the street underneath the trash and litter. Usually however, it's simply not as clean or immaculate as within the city. It had it's charms of course; though hardly everyone in the lower districts could be called artist, they were quite capable of getting by without all the amenities provided like in the city. The fact that it wasn't suffering show to Leeson that it was not so bad. At least people would have an incentive to buy locks down here.

    Leeson and the child reached the door of his home. Amongst the houses in the lower districts, this one was huge; two stories, thatched roof, solid stone walls, a few windows. The chimney shooting out from the side foretold that there is a fireplace or at even an oven within. And more importantly, a grand oaken door with a lock mechanism. Leeson got onto one knee and checked the device, but immediately noticed nothing was wrong with it. Aside from a few scratches that might have come from someone missing the keyhole. Curious, Lesson asked the child to open the door. But the child could not. Than it dawned to him why the kid couldn't open the door. "Does not have a key." Well, this is a bit of a predicament. On one hand, he could still open the door using some improvised tools. But what sort of an impression would that leave on the child? And what if someone mistook him for a burglar? So many questions, and Leeson didn't answer any of them. He looked around for a couple of twigs and got to work.

    It took him about ten minutes but Leeson managed to get the door open on his first try. The child was giddy to be back in his home and ran inside, leaving Leeson outside to wonder if he should charge the kid for making him come all this way for him. He decided not to however and was about to leave before the boy walked out of the house with a bucket. Inside of it was a large collection of Oyster Mushrooms, Grande Wormwood, Green Anise, and Sweet Fennel. Or to Leeson, booze and a snack. Thanking the child for the payment, Leeson walked towards a tavern in hopes that he could get the barkeep there to make him some alcohol with this stuff, and to make stew for him using the mushrooms. The streets were busy and the tavern Leeson was a regular at was busy, but that was nothing unusual. Quite the opposite in fact. Leeson worked his way towards the counter until he found himself standing next to a rather handsome young man, though Leeson paid him no mind. The barkeep handed the young man a drink before he noticed Leeson and his bucket.

    "I'll drink whatever you can make from this, and a stew from the mushrooms, if you'll please."


    Lucilia Tinath
    City of Hials patrolling the city

    The snow had piled on thick thanks to the many days of winter here in Hials. It was nothing the street cleaners couldn't clear out within a week, and right now the snow wasn't so heavy that one could not simply walk through it. Lucilia certainly didn't need to, as she had Benedictus who allowed her to sit tall above the ground. In her hands was the tool of her trade, the mark of her station: Carnifex. It has butchered the likes of many barbarians, and hopefully she won't need to turn it on the people of Hials either. Even though it has been more than a month since it had last drawn blood, Lucilia kept her weapon sharpened and ready for any situation. But just because she was ready for trouble, doesn't mean that she was going to start any. Lucilia made sure to patrol every part of the city she could, typically the parts of the city that didn't have guards. The places of nobility didn't need her; they had entire legions at their beck and call. No, she was around the much more common parts of the city, where you'd find street vendors trying to sell aged vegetables, were beggars would nip at your heels for charity, and where knives were used to cut purses and hopefully not throats.

    A breath of hot air escaped through the bottom of Lucilia's helmet. Even though she was here to rest and relax away from the horrors of war, she was always on edge. Anyone could be an enemy; everyone looked like a barbarian. Sure, they would tell you tales of how the men of the north dressed themselves in animal furs and had wild hair and so forth, but being there personally, a lot of those "Barbarians" wouldn't look out of place even here. Sure, some do have tribal markings and a particular style of dress, but Lucilia would hardly call it "Barbaric". Different was more accurate. The only thing that made the barbarians different than the people down here is that they weren't trying to kill Lucilia, but than again it's not as though she meets them under good circumstances. It should be no surprise that the barbarians would want to kill her if she came to them armed to the teeth and looking for war. But alas, regardless of her thoughts on them, they were still her enemies. If they could be reasoned with, they would have already. War was not enjoyable for anyone, at least not everyone as a whole. And her years spent warring still hasn't shaken her off the mindset that at any moment, violence would break out in the streets and Lucilia would need to begin cutting down anyone who so much as shot a vicious look at her.

    Taking her horse down the a small post within the fortress, Lucilia resigned herself to quietly making her rounds while keeping a constant, vigilant eye on her surroundings.
  6. City of Deliar inside the Boot Buckle

    Winter was fast approaching, farmers, and those who would not be staying within the city for the worst of the weather, filled the market place as they rushed to buy what they would need for the long months before they were able to enter the city again. As of yet the weather had been chilly but fair. The rain had held off long enough to allow the last harvest of hay to dry and even the wind was little more than the occasional gust only intent on reminding all that winter was closer than they wished. Indeed free of the long shadows that the buildings cast over the roads the sun was still strong enough to give people pause as they strayed into its path, stopping to enjoy the warmth before hurrying off to their destination. One particularly unobtrusive figure made her way towards the tavern at the edge of the market. Years of wear from the sun, wind, and rain had faded the sign until only vague shape of a large black boot with a silver buckle could be distinguished against the bleached out wood. Not that it mattered much, Nunrar couldn't have read it if there were words left anyways.

    Entering on the heels of a larger man carrying a bucket she paused just inside the doorway taking a moment to shake the cold from her bones before moving towards the bar, the faintest sound of metal sliding past metal could be heard as a single violent shiver passed up her spine. Shedding her drab grey cloak as she moved she reveled the heavy pack slung across her back. A full quiver of arrows and a tautly strung bow were balanced carefully across her bulging pack, while hanging from one of her arms was a long cloth covered bag from which the soft clink of wood against wood could be heard, most likely from another bundle of arrows. Crossing the room she found herself standing next to the man she had entered behind as he gave the Bartender instructions for what to do with the contents of the bucket he had entered with. Draping her cloak over the back of the empty stool closest to her she settled herself into the seat before rapping her knuckles against the bar to catch the Bartender's attention.

    "Ah I see you had some luck in the market." The burly man behind the counter said in a booming voice as he took the bucket from Leeson. The tavern was not quite so busy now and without the usual level of noise the Bartender's voice seemed unnaturally loud at first.

    "Aye, seems to be more robbers than anything else these but I managed to get a fair price." Nunrar said with a cheery smile and a shrug. The comment drew a deep chuckle from the bear of a man as he gave a nod and ran a hand over his dark beard in thought.

    "I would ask ya' how your search fah' work went but since ya back I am guessing that its bad news?" The man said with a raised eyebrow. His words were confirmed as the woman gave a heavy sigh and ran her hand over top her head.

    "What do you have that's warm." She said with a sigh choosing not to directly answer. Another deep rumble from the Bartender as he turned and disappeared into the back, bucket still in hand. Stretching her shoulders Nunrar removed her rucksack from her back and placed it on the ground in front of her, but from habit or some innate caution she did not remove the quiver from her back, only setting down the bunch of arrows that had been separate. Her bow she placed across her knee; one to be ready in an instant and second to keep it off the floor where it would be more likely to get under foot and damaged. She could just see her uncle's face if she can home with her bow splintered. A bow string she could easily replace, an entire bow like this? Far more unlikely.
  7. Luther Tinath

    Hoofs stamped on the soft, muddy ground, and an occasional snort was heard from the beast due to the increasing chill in the air. Luther sat upon Neleser, his black charger, as he approached Deliar's gates, the guards posted on the sides of the gates eyeing the blood dripping sack that was tied to his saddle as he rode through in a slow pace. The city before him sprawled with activity despite the cold, people preparing themselves for the approaching winter, men working in their shops shooing away street urchins that got too close, some even looking up at him with mild curiosity as he rode by, and even more staring at the bloody, dripping sack.

    Who in their bloody rights minds raids a farm in this weather, Luther grumbled to himself ignoring the commoners around him as he turned a street corner. He recalled as the farmer had gone to the Knights' Order begging them to handle a band of bandits that had been stealing his crop, and he recalled offering to take the job since he had done nothing for a while. It took him two and a half days to track them and when he did, he found a small bandit group of about ten men and was about to head back to get help from the guards when their leader had spotted him.

    Killing the leader was easy, the man had little to no skill with a weapon and instead used his size for intimidation into cowing those before him. Killing the leader's two lieutenants was a different matter, he recognized one of them as a former soldier from his build and regal stance and the other he assumed as a hedge knight looking for easy coin with a few bandits. As they fought, Luther considered himself fortunate the rest were too afraid to attack a knight that stood his own against their leaders, and once he killed the remaining two, the rest dispersed dropping their weapons and too afraid to collect their remaining belongings.

    Luther approached the farmer's home, got off Neleser, and knocked on the door.

    The house was a one floor square building with a wooden door and few of the windows were boarded up. He noticed the lack of a chimney and instead a small hole on the roof that allowed the smoke from the fire to escape. The farmer, an old man with thinning white hair but a surprisingly sturdy body, opened the door and looked at him to the sack behind him back on the horse. Luther noted a sort of unease pass over the man's face, his eyes glued to the pooling blood.

    "The bandits are taken care of," he said, drawing the man's attention back to him. "Your farm should be safe now. Head over to the Order's building when you have the coin to pay for the services."

    "How much?" The farmer asked.

    "Fifty silver dinars."

    The farmer nodded, thinking to himself before going inside and coming back out a few moments later with a small leather bag no larger than a hand. "Here's the coin. You have my thanks, sir Knight," the man said.

    "Thank your gods," Luther said turning from the farmer and got on his horse and rode through the commoner's quarters until he reached the noble quarters, a nicer place of the city without the stench and overbearing atmosphere. As he rode on, the Order's building loomed in the distance, a large structure that was oval in shape and had three floors, surrounding it was a thick that went around the whole complex, including the sparring grounds towards the back and a number of stables for the horses. As he got closer he noticed a few of his brothers on the battlements, their red cloaks flapping in the wind. He went through the gate, got off his horse taking the bloody sack with him then handed the reigns to an acolyte that ran up to him, and went into the building. Inside he dropped the bag of heads onto a table with a wet thud. "How was your hunt, brother?" Luther heard a familiar voice ask.

    "I need a fire," he responded going to the hearth and putting his hands before it.

    "It took you a while, didn't it?"

    "Bloody bandits had an unnatural skill of evasion."

    "Or perhaps you're just a bad tracker."

    Luther turned his head and eyed the man. "And you're better?" He asked, chuckling.

    His brother in arms was about to come up with a retort when a disgusted sound came from behind them. A man in a fine leather jerkin stood at the table looking into the bag Luther had left. "Why's there a sack of heads on the table?" He asked, looking pointedly at him.

    "I thought I should bring you dinner, Eren," Luther said with a small laugh. "You always complain you don't have enough food to eat. I hear the Barbarians consider heads quite the delicacy."

    "Your sick, Luther," Eren sneered. Luther's only response was to laugh along with his other brother. ​
  8. Melisa,
    Deliar's market.

    It was as usual. Father was away with somebody he knew to discuss the prices of the wares they had brought to the market. Leaning against a wall, Melisa just watched how people went and go. Some were just wandering around the market while others had a goal in mind. They already knew what they wanted to buy and it made Melisa wonder about it.

    After a few moments, she decided to also wander a bit around the market. The wares that were being sold were already being watched by another farmer, that was their neighbor. He owed it to her father as the horses that were being sold had carried some cargo of their neighbor. It was these kind of things that just showed how tight the bond and cooperation was between those who had little. Together they could work together to gain more. And it allowed her to wander a bit around the market, she thought with a small smile.

    Just walking around, she noticed several stands. Most were simple goods. Simple goods that many people relied on. Not only just fruit, vegetables and other consumables. There were also simple tools that were offered for sale, but they were somewhat more expensive. It was after all common that the normal commoner couldn't just afford himself a new pickaxe or wood cutting axe. They were passed down until a new was really needed.

    Seeing a stand that sold dolls and simple toys, Melisa somehow got intrigued. Approaching the small stand, she noticed several and probably hand made dolls. One reminded her of one she had during her youth. ''Lovely ain't she?'' A woman of an older aged asked friendly as she noticed Melisa picking a doll up.

    Smiling, Melisa nodded. ''Yes, reminds me of one I had in my youth. Self made?'' She asked friendly back. Knowing of course that she couldn't squander coin on something that wouldn't do or add any productive means to her life, Melisa thought a question like that wouldn't harm anybody.

    ''Oh yes, dear. They are made by me and my husband. He is just going to get something to drink, but we make them ourselves.'' The woman pauzed, eyeing Melisa again. ''Looking to buy something for a younger sibling, dear?''

    The question was one that Melisa had expected and she shook her head as she let out a brief and soft laughter. ''No, miss. I'm just looking around. Maybe I'll buy one for nostalgia. But I currently don't have the required money on person.'' With the kind answer, Melisa noticed how the older woman nodded and lost her interest at the moment that Melisa said that she didn't had the coin enough to buy anything. Placing the doll down, Melisa decided to walk further. Perhaps there would be some other stand that would attract her interest before she would have to head back to her homestead hamlet with her father and neighbor. It wasn't like she was paying a visit to Deliar every day or once in a week.
  9. Vincent Perar,
    Optio at work.


    He looked at the two formations. They were jogging perfectly together as they were taught to. With the men and woman, dressed in the trainee's armor and equipped with the heavy wooden shields and weapons, Vincent grinned a bit. Training and drills were not the favorite way to pass time for the soldiers of the Empire as the training gear was heavier, because it was intended to make the actual gear and equipment easier to use. If they would be used to something heavier than what they would use, then they would be able to last longer in a fight instead of tire easily. That was the the thought and Vincent couldn't think of anything to argue against it.

    Standing at the opening of the open field within the barracks, that was designed for the training and drills, he kept a close eye on how his two tessarari would keep order and watch of the troops. The rhythmic sound of boots jogging had something to it, in Vincent's opinion. Taking a few steps forward, he noticed how the two formations were told to halt. Within a moment the two formations of fifty soldiers came to an abrupt halt. There were a few sounds of men and woman panting, but after several moments it became quiet. Smiling as he was content with how the recruits were doing so far, Vincent had expected worse. He had been called back to start to train another unit under his care as Optio. Which meant thus hundred soldiers, divided in two groups of fifty soldiers who would each be led by a tessararius.

    The two tessarari took their position next to the two formations as Vincent walked up the field. With his hands at his back, he came to a halt as he eyed the ranks. Almost flawless were the formations standing and waiting for what their superior had to say. Raising his right hand, Vincent beckoned the two tessarari to come towards him.

    ''And?'' He asked, frowning at the two men. One that was almost a head taller than Vincent grinned. He had dark blond hair and nodded. ''They are okay. Bit green, but that is to be expected. I suspect that they'll be able to be decent after more drills and training.'' The answer of the large man, who went by the name of Harold made Vincent look to the other man. He was a bit shorter than Vincent and had two scars visible on his face. His name was Edward. ''I suspect that it will take a month before they'll be what I would call decent. Before us they have been already trained and know some basics formations and tactics.''

    Rubbing his chin with his right hand, Vincent glanced at the patiently waiting recruits. ''Guess that we'll just continue then.'' The two tessarari nodded as a response as they turned around and shouted orders to their recruits. Taking a few steps back, Vincent watched how both Harold as Edward would make sure that the two groups would be split in even smaller groups. Explaining the next training, they would be taught how to use their kite shields as a more offensive weapon.

    Calmly Vincent walked towards the groups of Harold. The large man had a stern gaze and even a harsher tone as he explained the training the recruits would do. ''Listen up. This will be very simple. Even a simple barbarian might be do this better, so pay good attention.'' The man lifted up the heavy wooden shield. ''This is going to be your life saver. The shield is what most consider a defensive equipment, but today you'll learn it is more than that.'' Pausing, he pointed to a recruit and beckoned him to come near him. After instructing the recruit to take a defensive stance, Harold continued to explain the training.

    The recruit took a standard stance. Holding his shield in front of him and the short sword at the ready. ''This is wrong.'' Harold said with a wide grin. ''Though you must hold the shield in a march like that, let me show you how you charge with a shield.'' Holding his own shield closer to his own body, the large man suddenly ran towards the recruit, who's eyes opened wide as Harold would push him off his feet. Grunting, the recruit fell on his back and blinked.

    ''You saw that lot? The shield is an offensive weapon in the right hands. Soon hopefully in your hands too.'' Harold paused as he raised the shield and started to explain the parts. ''It is about to use the flaps of the shield as they are reinforced with a metal rim. Thus that means they are sturdier, but also it is how you hold your shield. Holding it just out in front of you won't cut it.'' Harold kept using his own shield and body to show what he meant with his words. Vincent caught himself to be interested, though this was known material for him. Much to his own surprise, the recruits hadn't noticed him as they were staring and trying to both see and learn what the large man explained to them.

    ''Holding the shield just in front of you and try to push an enemy won't help. Unless Rolor himself might bless you, then you might have a chance. But if you would hold the shield just an oblique way, like this.'' Harold raised his shield a bit and would let it lean on his arm, while it was evidently that the protective side was aimed a bit above. ''This is how I charged. I used the metal rim to slam against his shield, while he holds it in the 'traditional' manner. Due that, I slam his shield in a way that my shield is blocking the movement of his shield as well negating the range of his sword.'' Harold would wait until the recruit had stand up and took the stance again. This time, he explained it in steps and threw a glance at his recruits now and then during his explanation.

    After saying that he should try it, it was clear that the recruit couldn't use his sword in order to cut or slash at Harold as the shield of the tessararius. ''See? The only thing he can do is to move back, but with me moving forward most just try to hold their ground as they try to hit you. He might hit me at my legs, but even that is limited as he can graze my knee over there.'' Pointing with his own wooden short sword at his knee, Harold chuckled. ''But with the decent armor we've and the fact he can't use much speed or weight, those actions won't do any harm. At all. While I,''

    Harold placed and softly poked the man in several places as he explained what he could do. Enough to disable the man or how to work him in one go against the ground. Vincent stayed to watch several more minutes before he decided to watch how Edward was doing, but he was doing the same. Just walking around, soon the recruits were paired and the field was filled with men and women who were using the tactic of how to use the shield as an offensive manner.

    Walking towards the side, Vincent thought briefly of how his daughter was doing. Today was the day she would receive her first 'dancing' lesson and he chuckled softly as he was sure she would enjoyed it. Perhaps it was a bit costly for even somebody of his rank and status, Vincent wanted to make sure she would have something to be distracted by. Even while they were just occupied with training, these men and women would soon be sent out to patrol the streets and perhaps later patrols in the countryside. But for now, he would have the 'pleasure' to oversee the training of the recruits.
  10. Jonas took a sip of his drink, thanking the bartender with a nod as the high born's attention was changed to the man standing next to him at the bar, a bucket full of natural ingredients for a stew that you would find in the wilderness. A smile almost came across his face as he set down the drink, rubbing his forehead with his hand as he stood, waiting for nothing in particular, still figuring out what to do in the tavern. He was about to sit in when a noticeable woman walked in, his attention drawn to the bow she had on her.

    He moved around, deciding to make an approach, figuring she must have had some fancy tales to speak of involving the weapon. He came around to her side, his mug in hand as he glanced at her bow, then up at her as he spoke.

    "That is a fine weapon you have there, miss." Jonas said to Nunrar, as he took the seat next to her, folding his arms on the bar as he continued to speak. "I've never been skilled with bows, more of a sword guy myself." He added with a smile before taking another drink of his ale.
  11. Melisa,
    Deliar's market.

    Melisa sighed and rolled with her eyes. Her father had let her know that they would stay a bit longer in Deliar. She knew it wasn't that late yet, but she wanted to go home. Though the city was always interesting, it lacked the fresh air of the countryside. The pleasant breeze that would bring the smell of the meadow fields. But sometimes it took longer before the wares would be sold. Certainly with horses. Some were being sold to be groomed to be capable steeds for soldiers or knights. Others were more shown to merchants.

    Sitting on a nearby bench, Melisa sat leaning forward, her elbows on her legs as she just watched how people walked around the market. At least they had something more interesting to do than just sitting around and waiting. Well, her father had came back and told her to watch a horse. Her name was Rosa, which had a good nature and build to become a good steed. Only now they had to wait and see who would be interested in buying and investing both coin as time into making sure she would become a fine steed.

    ''Mel! Mel!'' A voice called out to Melisa as she glanced to the right. It was her father who came with a smile towards her. Probably good news. ''The sale is done.'' The older man grinned as he patted his right pocket. It made a very nice sound of coins and Melisa smiled. Though she was still bored, it was good news. With the profit they could buy the required goods they needed to get through the winter without going hungry at night. ''Great, but what about Rosa?'' Melisa asked as she raised her left thumb and point to the horse that was standing at her back.

    Her father, Rick, stroked his chin. Narrowing his eyes, he examined Rosa and then nodded. ''I want you to take her to Knight's Order. Just go at the right at the end of the street and then to the left. It's hard to miss once you're there. Or shall I-'' ''No, no. I can take care of this myself.'' Melisa said as she quickly raised herself up. Finally something to do.

    After she prepared Rosa, she would guide her towards the point where her father had told her to go. While he said that it was hard to miss, Melisa felt a bit lost as she looked around. Seeing a rather imposing complex, compared to the houses she was used to, Melisa wavered. Heading towards the building, she could see soldiers standing on the battlements. Though they didn't look like the ordinary soldiers, Melisa had no idea. To her they were just soldiers as they wore armor and arms. Heading towards the gate, she asked for permission to pass and explained she wanted to show a horse that was offered to for sale.
  12. Alisa Perar,
    In Hials,

    First dancing lesson.
    Part II.

    ''And you're dead.'' The man smiled warmly as he almost patted Alisa's head with the wooden sword. Surprised, the girl blinked rapidly. Lowering the wooden sword, holding it only with her right hand, she puffed her cheeks. So far she had learned how to swing quickly and it had been fun. But the man was so fast. By the time she swung the wooden sword, he already had seen and reacted to it. His way of explaining was fun and though she looked frustrated, Alisa had great fun.

    ''Good. Now let's start again.'' Paul told her. Taking a few steps back, Alisa stood half towards the man. She had learned that she could use her slim build and short size for her own good. The smaller, the harder she was to be hit by a foe. ''Tata ta! Miss Perar! Don't cheat.'' The man said and Alisa smiled. Her left hand left the handle of the blade as she had learned that it would be best to learn to swing the sword with one hand. That left her other hand open for balancing or dirty tricks.

    ''Now, step by step.'' He instructed and Alisa slowly stepped to the left, circling. She narrowed her eyes as he did the same. Then she took a step forward and made a quick swing forwards, aimed at the left. Instead of aiming at the side, she aimed at his arm. Paul smirked as he parried her strike. Quickly Alisa took a step backwards as her cheeks became even more red, flustered by the excitement and activity.

    As she moved back in her stance, she noticed how Paul moved his arm. Reacting, she raised her wooden sword and managed to block the hack. Lowering her body, she managed to move her wooden sword that it wouldn't be locked by his. Something that she would lose as she wasn't as strong as him. Gaining a nod of approval, the man tried another hack. Dodging it, Alisa felt a short gust. It had been close, but she had managed to avoid the strike. Moving quickly, she tried to hit his arm as she had learned that aiming lower would mean she had to move closer, as her reach would be less far. Getting the feeling she was doing well, Alisa saw much to her surprise how Paul's wooden sword still parried her strike and then before she knew it, she stood without a wooden sword.

    ''You're dead.'' The light tap on her head made it even more clear. Blinking with her eyes, Alisa stood just surprised and stared at her mentor. ''But how? I followed what you told me! How-'' ''Simple, Miss Perar. I'll teach you that technique later, but that is it for today.'' Paul made a short bow as Alisa puffed her cheeks and thought of something. ''But.... will we continue tomorrow?'' She asked, hoping for a yes. This was much more fun than the lessons of Madame Maria. Brushing a few strands away from her eyes, she looped hopeful to the man.

    He nodded as he would walk with her to the door of the room. ''Certainly. Tomorrow, we'll practice today's teachings again. Same time, same place Miss Perar.'' Opening the door, he smiled and made a light bow towards her. Smiling, she nodded back as she would walk out of the room. The door closed behind her, which made her look over her shoulder. She didn't want to go away as there was plenty of time today that Madame Maria could seek her out and then herd her to classes with the others. Biting on her lip, Alisa looked around. Brushing a few other strands of red hair out of her face, she thought of something.

    Her father wouldn't like it if she would try to sneak towards the barracks of the soldiers within Hials. Perhaps she could just go the gardens and spend some time there.Smirking, she would head towards the gardens, hoping that Madame Maria wouldn't go looking there for her.
  13. Crossing her hands under her chin Nunrar surrender herself to her thoughts for a few moments, mentally she was ticking through a list of everything she might need for the trip home, and then she compared that against the weight of her purse. She was not entirely pleased with the results she was coming up with but she had dealt with less and could make due. Had it only been her needs that she was worrying about she would have gone home satisfied with what she did have. There was enough in her purse to keep her supplied and her bow would keep her fed and perhaps even supply her with a hide or two to sell. No her concerns lay with the rest of her family. Nearly a week ago she had seen one of the neighbors that still lived near her parent's home. Times were tough, winter was setting in and her parents had lost a cow and three sheep to a predator. That and apparently one of her brother's horses had a lame leg. Even if it was not much, bringing home a few extra coins could make all the difference. But her train of thought was broken as someone sat down next to her.

    "I thank you, it was a present." She said with a warm smile, taking the short span of time between when he next spoke to get a good look at the man. Her first assumption was that he was a common drunk, the ale, and his ability to talk to a complete stranger sure lent itself to that assumption. But his breath did not smell of booze, indeed his mug was almost full, and a glance at the clothes peaking out from under his cloak told her that he was not all that common.

    "Seems like we have different paths to the same end." She said with a nod, turning to fully face Jonas.
    "Swords don't suit my hand anymore. The only blade I can really wield now is this." She said tapping the hunting knife attached near the back of her belt.
    "But what about you, not many who's purses outweigh the hand that carries it make it out this far?" Her voice was gentle with a bit of a laugh to it. It was obvious that she was just generally curious, if a bit frank in her questioning.
  14. "A short blade is still a fine weapon in capable hands," Jonas said with a grin as he lifted up his pant leg to reveal the dagger tucked right in the sheath above his boot. "I do miss carrying around my greatsword, but it's back home somewhere, a weapon like that draws much attention to the wearer." He let go of the pant leg and looked back into Nunrar's eyes, his hand on the bar as he spoke, his full attention towards her.

    "You mean what a Hjamlar is doing in an establishment such as this?" He asked with a laugh, his words soft, loud enough for Nunrar to hear, but not anyone who wasn't standing right near them. He didn't feel like getting the whole tavern going just by namedropping his family's famous name.

    "You could say for lack of a better word that I was bored. My mother and father, bless their hearts, would have me sit inside our home all day and night until they figured out what they wanted to do with me. It is a beautiful home, but not a very exciting one. I just felt like seeing what was going in the city, I ended up here," He said before taking a sip of his drink then put it down to continue conversing. "I don't believe I've gotten your name yet, mine is Jonas, it's a pleasure to meet you, miss?" He asked, sticking out his right hand towards her to attempt a friendly handshake.
  15. "Hmm, to carry any weapon is an invitation to those looking for a fight." Nunrar said with a nod, giving a small chuckle at the sight of the dagger secured to his leg. Pride, or perhaps foolishness, saw her carry her weapons out in the open, others might be insecure enough that they preferred to play dirty but that did not mean she would default to such methods. Not that she was without her tricks, sometimes the only way to beat those who played dirty was to throw a handful of mud. Not that she believed this man was up to such tricks, for one hiding a dagger in his boot he had a genuine smile and kind eyes.

    When he dropped his family name Nunrar was taken aback for a few moments. True as one who spent much of her time traveling between cities and towns she rarely concerned herself with the supposed families of power but, even she knew a few notable family names. And if anything the Hjamlar's were of note. Thankfully her surprise did not last long and with a quick blink she changed any shock into quiet curiosity. Listening to him speak she smiled knowingly and gave a nod of sympathy. Memories of her own parents disapproval sprung to mind, as did the memories of their support when they finally accepted that they would not be able to change her mind.

    "Well met Jonas." She repeated experimentally as she accepted the high born's handshake. "I am Nunrar. It is a pleasure to meet you as well." For a moment she was distracted as the bartender set a steaming bowl of stew and a dry chunk of bread before her. Handing the burly man the coins owed she tore off a bit of bread and dipped it into the soup, savoring the warmth that spread to her bones as she ate. Pausing for a moment to chew and clear her throat she turned her gaze back to Jonas.

    "My own home is not so grand, and most likely, no more exciting than yours. But I might have to return there soon unless I can find work." She said with a sigh and slight shrug.
  16. Leeson
    City of Deliar inside the Boot Buckle

    Shortly after arriving with the bucket, another person came by to trade her goods as well. She looked to be a hunter of sorts, with the bow on her person and the short blade she carried. Leeson didn't really say much to her, though he admired her bow. Such craftsmanship, what sort of wood was used to carve that out? What about the string? Was it designed for her, or simply one that she picked up and felt comfortable with? Leeson thought to ask, but soon another man managed to catch her attention before he did. It didn't really matter to Leeson, he supposed. He chats enough with his customers.

    When the barkeep came back out with food for the woman he told Leeson that his drink wouldn't be ready until a couple more hours, but he had a bowl of soul for him. There wasn't much meat if you included the gristle on the pork bones, but Leeson was more interested in the vast amount of steaming mushrooms floating in the liquid. The inn keeper must have wanted to use the shrooms for his own propose to just give it to Leeson in left over pork broth, but he didn't complain; he gets as much as he wants, which meant free food. And free food was fine with him.

    Quietly eating his meal Leeson couldn't help but listen in on the conversation next to him. Although he was more interested in eating cleanly, he did pick up bits and pieces of their conversation. The bow was a gift, the man was a Hjamlar, and the girl's name was Nunrar. He repeated the name in his head a few times before fnishing off his soup. It was quite delicious. He looked outside and wondered how long he had been gone. He should return to his shop and finish that order. And yet... He'd like to get a drink at least. He had a few coins in his pocket. He could afford a bit of a watered down swill, though if the innkeeper was thankful for the mushrooms maybe he'll be willing to take a few coins in exchange for a good mug of ale. Wouldn't be enough to get Leeson even a bit hazy, but it was a start.

    "Barkeep! An Ale if you'd please. This ought to cover it, all things considered."

    Leeson put down a few silver bits that were short the usual price. The innkeep wasn't impressed. "Oi boy, you're short three silver's there. It's at least ten for my good stock. How bout I just get ya a wet rum? Your usual." Leeson groaned. He hated wet rum. It taste less like rum and more like grainy water.

    "Come on now, you got the bucket of goodies. Surely you could just take my silvers and give me one of your nice pints?"
  17. "Well, I don't know how much I can help you with that, my family does have connections all over the place, but I'm just a simple military man, I'm not sure on how well they could set you up with a solid job, I mean unless you wanted to be a guard for my family or something, though, I wouldn't call the pay solid for that job." Jonas replied, scratching his chin, his words true. Then he moved around in his seat slightly, turning his gaze to the bartender for a moment as the man offered him some stew.

    "I'm fine, friend, thanks for the offer though." He said, motioning with his hand that he was declining the meal. He wasn't hungry, and didn't feel right having something that could go to the one of the lesser off people in the establishment. He could go back to his home and have a massive meal just by dropping a few words, it wasn't that easy here.

    He finished right as the man next to him peeped up, the one who had brought in the ingredients for the stew. The man needed a few silvers, he deserved a drink for the work he had done to get the food, so Jonas reached into his pocket and pulled out the appropriate amount of silvers, three, and placed them down in between the bartender and the man.

    "Let him have the drink, that'll cover the cost." Jonas said, looking at the bartender then turned towards Leeson, his expression a friendly one. "No need to thank me. Just consider it a token of appreciation for making the stew possible for all of us here." He said, adding a nod as he turned his attention back to Nunrar.

    "How is it?" He asked, then took a drink of his ale.
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