Ordo Xenos Inquisitor
Shenlin, Meiya
Horatelemos ran his hands across his face, and swung his legs out of the bed he had hired at the inn for the past few weeks. He had slept better than previous nights for the knowledge that by today he would be leaving this wretched place for good.
The So'raan packed his meagre belongings into his leather satchel - a few Meiyan coins (enough only for a few drinks), his few chisels, a whetstone and a small array of other scrimshawing instruments. He had no raw material with him, and Horatelemos hoped that he may be able to scrounge some along the road - foreign timber could be sold at a price back in Mekras.
He turned his eye towards a bundle of equipment in the corner, coated with a fine film of dust that had coagulated during his stay. Horatelemos had promised himself that he would ditch the gear upon leaving, he had left his soldiering days behind him when he entered Meiya for the first time.
The artisan sighed to himself. This simple errand might yet take a turn for the worse, and when it did he wanted to be prepared. He walked over to it and pulled the cloth off his old equipment and mused at it's poor state. The leather breastplate was fraying at the edges and had several gouges in it, his short sword was also poorly maintained, dulled from a lack of use. Its handle had been partially knawed away by something, presumably a rat, and would have to be replaced sooner rather than later.
"Better than nothing." Horatelemos said, strapping his battered armour underneath his travelling robe. He didn't want the other foreigners to see his gear in such a poor state, lest they judge him on it. Concealing the armour would also lend him the advantage should he meet someone who judged the So'raan easy prey.
Sheathing the sword at his side, Horeatelemos went to join his employer and the other travellers from the night before.
Idiron, The Huon League
"Savages." muttered Yarikon. "Absolute savages."
Before the Duumvir officer stood absolute carnage. Bodies littered the farmland like the crops that were meant to grow there. Primitive spear hafts protruded from many of the corpses, almost all of the casualties had been civilians and farmers, men and women alike mindlessly slaughtered.
Among the corpses had been Kaa'ri'kon, a former Duumvir, who had forsaken lawkeeping to start a family in the outlying villages of Idiron. Now he was dead, his family nowhere to be seen, whether they had fled or been taken captive nobody knew. Kaa'ri'kon's death had hit many of the Duumvir present hard, having known him personally.
"Captain?" An officer addressed Yarikon.
"What is it?"
"We know who have comitted this atrocity. The spears belong to the Ietsahru - feral Dussarit and Eralih." The officer continued.
"I know of them. This cannot be allowed to happen again. Send a messenger to the council, let them know that we are under attack and Idiron wishes to undergo war-footing. I will ride for Dussarit in the morning, maybe they can help us clean up this mess, for they had a part in creating it."
"Those who stand for nothing will fall for anything."
Perpetually Disappointed
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
"I bring word from the tribes," She came with a formal bow. She looked around her, slowly, nervously. Every movement was measured heavily and she gave the appearance of a Meiyan doll, though she was clearly Viha.
"I speak for many tribes, both those who have pledged themselves to Meiya and those that are in the borders marked by Zewan-Tal. I seek word with the gouvenor here in the hope of gaining an audience with the King of Zewan-Tal. I am brought here by rumours that more soldiers may be brought to the border, which has caused the tribes some anxiety."
She maintained with some effort a rather nervous monotone. Her hair had only begun to grey recently, marking her as in her early twenties, an adult by the law of the Viha but by no means yet a reality. She wore a mix of Meiyan, Zetali and Viha clothes to give her a presentable air and it did look relatively well but it looked heavy on her.
"If it would not be trouble, of course," She bowed again looking around the room.
She thought of an old Viha expression; Ghyuijiwr laoth eu tju uith hiigyeith iigw khadhith wrohl By this path, I shall earn my grey quicky.
Shenlin, Meiya
Donil sat there early, over the same Fén board game from the previous night, trying to analyse possible moves and patterns. He greeted the others as they came in to kept quiet largely as the assembled.
Eventually he looked on the crowd, "So then, what are your thoughts on this?"
He said to no one in particular but the slowly assembling crowd of foreignners in general.
edited 22nd Dec '12 10:13:14 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
The Maid
— Aramaka, Eralih Empire —
Time passed, days became weeks until finally... roughly a month after Sahri first bid his case to the Erakali, that the Dussarit was finally called back to the palace.
There, in the meeting room stood the Emperor Manaraku together with a great number of Eralih. Ceremony and protocol were tended to, as they always were when diplomacy was at work... but finally, did the great Erakali announce his decision on the Dussarit.
"After much talk, much deliberation... after gathering together with the greatest minds and most passionate hearts living on these old mountains I have come to a decision when it comes to the situation faced by the Dussarit. I, Erakali Manaraku, have made my mind... and thus has the Eralih Empire come to a decision with me"
"The People of the Sky stand with you, our brothers of the River. Sahri of the Dussarit, you asked for our help and our help you will have. I now declare our support in this campaign to restore the proper rule of Dussarit, to cast away the puppets of the Toryl"
"But more importantly than this... We the Eralih pledge our support in the restoration of the great land of Dussarit. To heal the scars left by the wars of the past. For too long have your people stood apart, for too long have the people of the River been scattered to the winds after being robbed of their land and fortune"
"To accomplish this and act in my stead on this campaign I send to stand at your side my very own nephew Chotoka" says the Erakali, looking at a man standing at his side. He was strongly built, young but not overly so, with long black hair tied in braids decorated with silver and gold baubles. What his reputation said of the man was that he was highly promising indeed, those who took count of such things would know that he was third on the list of candidates most likely to be selected by the Emperor to succeed him. What the man lacked so far, was a true way to prove if his potential would truly pan out.
"He will speak with my voice and command our forces and efforts with my authority on this campaign. To assist him Karale of the royal family shall be his war leader" says Manaraku this time pointing to a lithe woman standing a bit to his right "And to bring his knowledge to the restorations efforts, Master Charawu of the Temple shall accompany our expedition" he says, pointing to an old man who seemed to have quite a bit of life still in him.
"Thus, Sahri of the River People, with these as our representatives, I provide you with our people, our weapons and our knowledge. We shall provide grain and food to feed those following our banners, we shall provide spears and shields to raise for our cause, we shall provide Nuwah to raise your forces and we shall provide people bring life and glory back to the Dussarit"
"Runners of the Eralih shall reach Meiya, shall reach Zewan-Tal and all neighboring lands carrying the notice of our march. All to let the Dussarit cast away from their true home the news... we march. And let all of them, who wish to return to a life full of dignity, to their ancient homeland... that there is now hope. That their land, their destiny is theirs to take back"
"Thus I say, Manaraku of the Eralih, to you, Sahri of the Dussarit... My people stand with you"
"On this, my good man? A more vague question you could not have asked. I can think of more than a dozen things that 'this' might be" says Masuyo, full of humor in the morning.
If I'm sure of something it's that I'm not sure of anything.
「MENACING」
Igama
Igama sat down nearby, already holding a drink. He didn't speak, watching the assembled foreigners with interest. He wanted to hear their opinions first... Not to mention that he only had a vague inkling of their personalities... Or their nationalities, come to think of it. He had a bad memory for things of that sort, especially when inebriated; which he wasn't. Yet.
Wunizma Lands
The officer laughed, a hollow sound in the bird-skull helm. "You are quite proud, young one. The Wunizan are a loyal clan, and enjoy the benefits thereof. Traitors, you call them, but who is it that you once paid fealty to?" He tapped his spear in the snow. "Tell your lord, king or emperor that he, too, may enjoy our prosperity, on the simple condition of joining us." He shrugged. "It is a generous offer, but I believe the Great Clans would see the benefits."
The old woman rolled her eyes.
Ordo Xenos Inquisitor
Shenlin, Meiya
Horatelemos allowed himself to chuckle at the Eralih woman's riposte - partly to ease away any tension it may have caused, and also to introduce himself into the conversation.
"A general's son doesn't go missing because he fancies a holiday, my friends. I fear that our missing son is long gone, and the beauracrats up in Chilai haven't got the spine to tell his mother."
"Those who stand for nothing will fall for anything."
Perpetually Disappointed
Shenlin, Meiya
Donil shrugged, as he had intended a vague opening but wrote it off as the Eralih temperament, at least until noon.
Donil sat on the floor by the serving counter, but ordered no drink, instead he moved a piece and looked up,
"Not entirely without reason," Donil replied. He then turned and spoke in Toryl, "The Chilai are not known as forgiving people, after all."
Aramaka, Eralih Empire
"A thousand years would not be long enough to give thanks," Sahri said, "We shall take arms and by your aid, we shall find life or death atop our native soil."
A cheer came forth from the crowd.
Wunizma Lands
"I am not in the mood for jokes," The young one looked over, "I shall depart. Should any of the Wunizuma wish still to hear me, they know where my tribe dwells. They need only to know that we seek words."
He pulled the reigns on his raindeer, "That should be all, unless you seek to shoot me down. Or, perhaps you would like to follow me and speak to our Clan-Fathers."
Ndgahkgh, Dussarit
"Greetings son of the Northern Mountains," An aging woman said atop a throne. Around her was the picture of decadence, gold and marble to rival the halls of Shenlin, servants either performing their duties or holding still before the guests and yet she looked worn by years. Beside her sat her son, still only in his youth though nearing adulthood. He looked on with curious eyes.
She looked to her guest with waried eyes, "Why is it that you come this far south?"
edited 23rd Dec '12 11:18:37 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
State of Mind
Shenlin, Meiya
"Actually, I know this story," Jesa said in response to Horatelemos' words about the son going on a holiday. "There were two powerful but miserly and wrathful men who hated each other, and would argue over everything and fight over anything. One day they run into an old grandfather on the road who decides to have some fun at their expense. He tells them that he has a wagon full of treasure from the south, and challenges and their families to all fit into the wagon and stay in it together for a day and a night. Whichever family with the last member in the wagon would get the treasure."
Taking a seat beside Donil, Jesa crossed his legs to make himself more comfortable. "The two men readily agree and come back with their families. With everyone in the wagon, nobody could scarcely move and tensions rose. But the treasure was right there in the back, always tempting them. Soon enough however, the two men began trying to push each other out of the wagon, beating each other until they both fell out of the wagon. A short while later, their wives began pulling at each other's hair and dresses and also fell out. Only the son of one man and the daughter of the other was left. With the riches and their honor resting on the outcome, the two men made their children swear to do whatever it took to get the treasure and deny the other family a victory. When night came, the parents returned home, confident that their child would be able to force the other out in the dark."
"The next morning, the grandfather and the two men returned to the wagon to see who had beaten who. The wagon was gone. With plenty of room now to think, and all night to talk, the man's son and the other man's daughter had decided to simply take the treasure, leave their miserable parents to themselves, and go to the capital and get married."
"Both men were humiliated and had to pay the grandfather for his lost possession. The new couple went on to live happily to the end." Jesa finished with a smile as he finished one of his people's classic folktales.
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
"How does she know that when we only found out yesterday?" a soldier whispered outside the captain's lodge.
"Is that really that surprising? We're the last people to find out when anything happens. I wouldn't be shocked if Saremitas knew before we did!" another grumbled.
Away from the chatty duo, Nezlana indicated to Shiidheegyi to have a seat on one of the mats by the low table in his quarters. He studied the young woman with premature gray hair by the firelight inside. She looked harmless, and seemed honest enough so far.
"You said you come on behalf of the Viha tribes." he said slowly in her language, "Can you show me anything to verify your claim?"
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim
Perpetually Disappointed
"Hrm," Donil said moving another piece, "I recall a similar tale where the same woman was betrayed by her lover and left to die, but I am not one to tell old tales."
He looked around, "Whether it is his dust scattering to the wind or it is merely young Írin scattering dust over his eyes. I have given much thought to this; It cannot be good if they shall not tell to the mother directly. We are led forward as little arrow sheaths; if it is ill news, we may not find ourselves welcome in Shenlin and sudden allies to the Chilai. My friend rushes forward and I bear no personal objections but if you have not considered it already, perhaps you should choose the safety of obscurity within the inn here."
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
The young Viha bowed her head and sat as she was signaled. Again, she moved in a heavy, measured way and spoke in Zewan, "I am Shathath, daughter of Fith who is the sister of the Matron of the Laozoijiith. If it would not be a rudeness, I will speak to you in your tongue, for I come to bring word to your people and should bring it to you in your own language. Though I thank you and feel more welcomed knowing my language is amongst yours as well. We were one of the tribes great enough to speak with your King, as the Meiyan granted your claims over the old forest and in that ceremony, each Matron was granted a bead with inscriptions."
She set the bead upon the table carefully, as that it would not roll when set down. In truth, she could not read Zetali. Meiyan, she had some inkling of, but the more advanced symbols confused it. It still struck her how much these glyphs could represent.
"It is fine material in it and represents a great gesture between our peoples. I hope that this should prove the matter."
edited 27th Dec '12 7:49:50 AM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
Ordo Xenos Inquisitor
Shenlin, Meiya
"Perhaps I should, but the safety of the inn doesn't pay." Horatelemos flashed a confident smile, at odds with his apprehension about the whole endeavour.
"Those who stand for nothing will fall for anything."
State of Mind
Shenlin, Meiya
"I am done with this city. I've already finished what I set out to do here and would've left earlier were it not for the storm." Jesa said with a shrug. "And I was planning on heading west anyway until someone stole my horse." he added bitterly.
After a few moments his cheery countenance returned though. "It's not everyday you find yourself on such an unusual undertaking. Even if there are beetles in this log, it'll be a tale to tell people about later in life."
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
Nezlana picked up the bead, examining it by the light of the lantern in the middle of the table. He was impressed by what he saw. The green bead was large, but lightweight. In a lighter shade of green a symbol representing a tree was over another representing a mountain on one side while an open palm was on the opposite. Between the symbols for Zewan-Tal and Peace was the mark of King Sennal who had reigned when they were created.
The details and fine wood seemed to indicate that this really was a bead from the capital. Specially crafted as gifts to foreign leaders, they carried no power in and of themselves, but symbolized recognition and hope for peace and friendship with their recipients. The girl evidently had gotten this from someone important among the Viha. If for no other reason, he would be courteous for that.
"The Lord Caemivu departed for the mountains some days ago. For the same reasons you have come here for, imagine that." Nezlana said after handing Shathath's bead back to her. "His son is currently occupied elsewhere at the far end of the province and won't be back for some time. If you're going to go that way you might as well go on ahead to the capital when morning comes." the captain of the fort nodded towards the bead. "That may very well get you an audience with the king, though I make no promise of that."
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim
Perpetually Disappointed
Shenlin
Coním shrugged and headed into the bar only to turn around and see Zedeeru.
"Sedérú!" He said with an affected accent, "What are you doing in out? It's wet still. Miserable. Bhoc! Bhoc! Dot me re pon aloc?"
He looked around the room, "I'm as late as I thought then. Who else is coming? The Toryls? Or have they left?"
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
"I understand. Still, I wish to know more of your situation here. I have heard complaints of the Viha from time to time but only echoed and never from one who had actually voiced them. I fear the lack of understanding between our peoples is the cause of much suffering and I cannot speak for the Viha without hearing the Zetali."
edited 1st Feb '13 1:52:02 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
The Maid
— Aramaka, Eralih —
Chotoka himself stepped forth into the crowd, taking hold of Sahri's forearm as both salute and pledge as he stared at the other man in the eyes "No thanks are needed, Sahri of the Rivers. We now stand together. The fate of your people is mine to share as well now. Let us make it a brilliant one, together"
— Shenlin, Meiya —
For now Masuyo remained silent as she sipped from her drink, though the expression on her face and her demeanor clearly indicated that she too was not going to be diverted from this venture.
If I'm sure of something it's that I'm not sure of anything.
State of Mind
Shenlin, Meiya
"I think the Toryl woman went to bed after too much to drink." Jesa said. "She was downing something heavy before I turned in last night. I doubt she'll be up for a while. We can bring her up to speed later."
Turning his head towards a window, Jesa was gratified to see sunlight piercing into the room from outside. The storm had drifted away from the capital and subsided elsewhere during the night. Now the crisp and cool air that followed such storms brought life to the city while the sun, occasionally hidden by straggling clouds, roused those who were still sleeping.
"I'm glad the rain is gone. At least for now. I wonder how we should present ourselves before the dynast tonight."
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim
Perpetually Disappointed
Shenlin
"Fair enough then," Donil tilded his head, "Let's go."
He folded up the set with care and folded it onto the sling he carried over his shoulder. He laid down a couple coppers to compensate the host for his water.
The host raised a finger briefly, to signal he saw the tab.
Outside, the dirt roads were muddied but the houses were mostly unaffected. The rain of yesterday, in truth, had not been too heavy. People were beginning to peer out their windows, sliding aside their papper padded window trellises to see the still cloudy sky above. It was clear enough for most to resume work where they had left off the day before but it was a slow trickle rather than a flood of people as the sun might have drawn out.
They came to a set of larger buildings, some were marked over head, "Za Kilin", The Writings Centre, "Za Foiyalin", a great temple of philosophers and priests and finally "Za Fulyulin", The Bureaucratic Centre, where children scattered over the streets, enjoying the precious morning break they were given between lessons.
Finally they came upon the Palace. It was a fascinating design, emerging tower divided into smaller tiers externally with designs carved into each, along with the walls. There didn't seem to be a straight line in the design, but rather smooth curves.
The guards halted them.
They were dressed in fine silk cloth work over an iron mail and gilded pauldrons, clearly more a show of power than an actual preparation for defence. A bow was strung over their back, with a glaive and an waist-high shield rested by they side, infront of a box of arrows.
"Hail foreignners, what business do you bring to the Palace of the Capital?"
edited 1st Feb '13 12:10:31 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
State of Mind
Being the scroll bearer, Jesa figured now was a good time to present their pass. Moving up to the front of the group he walked right to the guard who had spoken. "Greetings, my friend." Jesa brought his fist to his heart in the military greeting of Zewan-Tal, then bowed in the more worldly sign of respect. The scroll was in his hand, and he let it unfurl to show it to the guard.
"I am Jesa of the Uvo Tal. My companions and I are here as representatives of the Rialyudi of Chilai. We are scheduled to see the dynast today."
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim
Ordo Xenos Inquisitor
Ndgahkgh, Dussarit
"What brings me south" started Yarikon, "is the murder of my people." W Ith a flourish he brought from within his cloak the black haft of an Ietsahru spear, and dropped ontp the palace floor with a rattle that reverberated back from the walls - it underlined Yarikon's point nicely.
"Hundreds of So'raan lay dead in our fields, civilians and women alike - and the blood trail leads back to your offspring."
Yarikon motioned his hand to the Dussarit leader. "They know no passion or empathy, no respect for life. Idiron calls for aid from whoever will listen, we must drive these savages from our borders lest they kill our people again."
"Those who stand for nothing will fall for anything."
"Do they always talk like that?" Zedeeru quietly asked, covertly elbowing the Fen.
Perpetually Disappointed
Shenlin, Meiya
"I'm surprised you don't," Coním tilted his head while keeping his voice low, "It's a very formal language. Usually, they just teach you the politest way of speaking to err on the side of caution. Then you learn how people actually talk. It was nearly two years before Donil figured out to curse."
"And you have been regretting it since, jackass."
"He is still learning, to a degree."
The two Meiyans meanwhile, looked over the scroll and then looked to eachother. With a mutual nod, they set out their free hands with a certain number of fingers up and down. They did this twice more quickly.
One then took the Scroll, bowed and headed toward the throne room.
"He will return shortly, with word from the Dynast but it is a formality to be observed. Are there any questions meanwhile?"
edited 6th Jan '13 10:00:34 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
「MENACING」
Wunizma Lands
Mulati nudged his own mount, the deer making a grunting sound as it trudged forward a bit. "I don't believe I gave you permission to leave," he snarled, lifting her spear up...
The old woman sighed, and gave a sharp whistle. One of the tribesmen abruptly let out a scream. "Wolves!" He collapsed, his vague silhouette in the mist stumbling to the ground.
Mulati began to turn. "What? Where?" He raised his spear, looking around...
As the old woman, who had kept close to him the entire time, drew her hands from her furs. She had a heavy club in her left hand, thick, smooth wood, likely driftwood or something similar. She swung it quickly and easily, with practiced movement, bashing it against Mulati's head with a sound motion. The man fell from his reindeer, hitting the snow with a soft thump.
For a moment, it was silent. "Is he down?" a tribesman asked, in their native langauge... The same one who'd shouted about the wolves. "It's damned cold."
The old woman nodded. "Get up." She turned her attention to the young one, spurring her deer towards him. "As for you..." She lightly tapped him on the head with her club, a chiding gesture. "You are entirely too proud, and reckless to boot. Who is your Chieftain, who lets such brash men ride for Kunetigan?"* She shook her head, clicking her tongue. Her voice was a tad gutteral, growling, obviously strained. "Don't tell me you rode this far of your own volition."
Shenlin, Meiya
Igama awoke with the group, though he didn't make an appearance at the inn - Instead, he'd left early, heading towards the stable where his cart and oxen were being kept.
The small, inner city stable saw a modest business from merchants and travellers, the walls well-shored and roof clear of leaks or drafts. However, it wasn't rich, either - Safe, but not obvious. Hence why Igama had chosen it.
"Your oxen are in the last stalls," the cheerful Meiyan stablehand said, waving him down. Igama dropped a few coins in his hand and walked over, stopping at the first stall's door.
The small door of the stall was shut, but not locked - Only closed in that it was resting against the lock, instead of in it. The six oxen he owned were all still present, staring soulfully (or stupidly, depending on your personal opinion) at the merchant... But as Igama opened the stall, he gritted his teeth and fought back an oath.
A knife had been thrust into the doorpost, buried up to the hilt in wood. With a sinking heart, Igama knelt by it, tugging and prying at it until it came loose. Then he did swear, loudly and violently. The distinctive thick, slightly curved-inwards blade marked it as one of the coastal clans' make, and the design on the hilt - Red beads and pale blue ribbons - Marked it more specifically as one of...
"Tumamxin," Igama growled, stowing the knife in his bag after wrapping it in some rags. "Already... Good that I'm leaving."
A time later, the merchant stopped his cart on a street near the palace, the other two carts obediently following behind his. He silently thanked the sun that his oxen had been so well trained, though it wouldn't be necessary for long. He climbed down, walking over towards the group.
edited 7th Jan '13 6:06:12 PM by Hydrall
State of Mind
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
"I personally have no quarrel with your people, young lady." Nezlana said. The polite title sounded odd to him, since she did have grey hair sprouting already. "But the people I must watch out for make their livelihoods here. Livelihoods that have recently been disrupted by bands of Viha with no respect for property or land claims. Stealing, fighting, deaths are getting to be common."
"When you go to the mountains know that Lord Caemivu and the other eastern lords are already there telling the king of these things. You will be pressed to do something about it if there is to be peace in these parts."
Nezlana got up, grimacing at the ache in his legs. "As you are a lady and an ambassador, it would be my pleasure to offer you my quarters for tonight. I shall retire elsewhere and in the morning provide you with directions and an escort until you reach Eldo Province."
Walking to the door, he waved his hand in farewell. "Good night, young Shathath."
Shenlin, Meiya
Jesa was relieved when the soldiers accepted the scroll. The entire time coming to the palace he's been worried that they would reject them outright, saying it was fake. Looking back, He flashed a victorious smile at his companions.
He turned back towards the guard just as the man said, " Are there any questions meanwhile?"
Mulling over the question for a moment, Jesa was not sure if he had anything relevant to ask. He looked back at the others again to see if they had questions of their own.
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim
Perpetually Disappointed
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
"I will take good note of your words when I speak with the King," Shathath spoke with a bow, "I am honoured to have your quarters and I thank you for them."
Wunizma Lands
"Much is riding on this," the young scout replied as he settled his reindeer, "I could not show fear to him and he had no interest in speaking to me. I hold my tribe in high respect and we see you as lost cousins. If you have heard my words and wish to give reply, I will be honoured to hear you, explain what I might and return home with your words over me higher than I would Meiyan treasure."
Shenlin, Meiya
There was a bit of silence, perhaps awkward, though more complicit. The guard was happy to keep his own.
It was not long before the other guard returned, "Leave weapons here if you have them, the Dynast will see you now."
The rag tag group was ushered in to a palace trimmed with gold. Fine, rich colours printed from dyes that were traded for as far as Faynir were everywhere. Gold trimmed the walls. Statues and fine pottery were common place. Guards were everywhere, to keep an eye on eachother as much as the guests; though they were the most trusted soldiers in Meiya, the presence of these riches and the dynast were not something where risks would be taken.
Iconography hung throughout the building. Symbols predating the written language marked rooms and halls.
The one for the Dynast was embedded in gold on a door to mark the throne room.
She sat upon the throne, looking over the room.
She was dressed in many layered and fine silk the outerlayers of which hung loose. It was a ligh purple colouring, with golden trimmings.
Beside her was a young man, in lesser finery but still comparable to the highest amongst nobles.
Armed guards lined the room.
Coním stepped forward and bowed low.
After a second, Donil followed his lead.
edited 7th Jan '13 9:07:50 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
State of Mind
Jesa was momentarily taken back. Splendor and grandeur aside, he had not been aware the dynast was a woman. The mental image he'd been carrying in his head of a gray haired old man wrapped in gold evaporated as fast as a summer shower in the middle of the afternoon. She cut a striking image, in her colorful clothing and fine dress that Jesa knew many of his female neighbors would kill to have for their own. Her head was unadorned, Jesa couldn't help but notice that even though most foreigners did not decorate their hair like the Zetali did.
Who was the man near her? Her brother? Consort?
When the westerners bowed Jesa followed suit. His beads jingled against each other as his his head declined before the dynast. He had not had a chance to ask if he or their host would be the one to open the conversation. Among the Zetali, the visitor would always bid greetings to those whose house was hosting them. He hoped the same manners existed in Meiya.
"Greetings, you highness." Jesa said as he bowed low. "It is a fine morning for a consul, is it not?"
edited 11th Jan '13 11:11:50 AM by Parable
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim
Perpetually Disappointed
Whispers move through Sphaera in a hundred tongues. Scattered peoples who could not agree on so much as a date knew this much; the winds of war blew over the from the great mountains over the southern lands and towards the west. They knew to be careful themselves for the that the wars of wind blow quickly.
The Eralih sent word accross their many great roads, reaching as far as Toryl and Meiyan, sending heralds and envoys to summon Dussarit men. In some communities where they Dussarit had fled, the heralds were greeted with cheer and tears of joy were shed and it was promised to them that their homeland would be returned. Amongst the Dussarit exiles, countless came forward. This was a thing of legend, a slain eagle burnt and scattered to the sands which rises again.
Others, mercenaries and sympathizers joined as well, in hopes that when this concluded they would be rewarded with land for their efforts. Some claimed Dussarit ancestry to justify their stake, others openly believed that they were due their parcel for fighting for a nation that needed them.
Still, much would come down to the swaying of the north. Some were content with a dishonourable peace and fear above all a second war. Others fled to Eralih in anticipation in order to sooner get their arms and be better prepared.
Great powers would soon come to war and the younger made no secret of her complaints. Time and fate would see the strong people and the strong Gods triumph over the harsh sands of lands by the great river.
In the far north, too, rumours spread of war. Scattered tribes were rallying to a lone banner and turning an envious eye southward.
While the Fén who had fled north, merchants, exiles and outlaws who had at last found peace in the silence of the cold looked towards their forgotten shields and spears once more. With weighted hearts, They burnt their sacrifices to Félút, Cedíl and Férun and sought to make their peace with Genibh and Írin.
Old banners were unfurled and men were making ready for great warfare. The men of the North had awoken and they would heed the word of no King.
For all the talk of Toríl and Érali, it was these Northern men which troubled Nimhul the most. Indeed, as he stood before his court, mattered boded ill.
"We ought to join them," Ban ba Lúbhál spoke, "The Óghanéla know no law of this world or the next. They know no kinship amongst themselves; they want for King or an army. They are peasants who betrayed their own line and lie now as wildmen who await masters to bring them law. There are no great deeds over then to which we owe honour, only treason to which we are owed blood."
Lúbhál was the King of Géfínír, grandson of the traitor Ralachéd ba Banác and a traditional foe of Genibh. This put him in a prime position. He could recklessly spur action for his own benefit and it would come with where he was seated. Indeed, rudeness and recklessness would even be admired in one in his seat.
In short, he had been the ideal election for it.
Still, he had no hope to gain High-Kingship and had to choose his favourite amongst other rivals.
"The Érali move against the Toríl. The Curigena are no/thing more than that; wildmen who wait for a King," Péléma ba Gilúchún "The Toríl have loomed over us as a darkshadow for the span for 50 Kings. Let us move now and hope the Huon follow; the Úlaghél will be free once more by our blade and the reward shall be no small thing."
Gilúchún, King of Nílíra, was not many seasons older than Nimhul, yet he spoke with the authority of an old Címén. Still, his people were as much of Írin as of Férun; rooted in old hatreds. Toríl were more allies than foes and to wage war against them would be folly.
The alliance with the Huon was reassurance against ambitious eyes, yet his believed in recent years that the Toríl had come to see the Fén as more an asset and friend than a burden and a target of conquest.
But while the Mountains loomed over the eastern plains, it was Toríl and their presence in Úlaghél that loomed over them.
"Too many lives would be lost that way," spoke Fírér Mhedhécir the king of Bér Thóbh, "In either war. Neither are our conflict. We would stand only to bleed from both."
The King of Lúranilabh, old and tired as the mountains he ruled, kept his peace strategically, looking at his potential allies and foes. He turned towards Nimhul.
The representative Métíra looked towards Nimhul as well, but rather than the stern judging face of his college, Échún ba Pénil looked with one of hesistant servitude. He disliked his position of King of Métíra and had cursed, sometimes in the court, the quarrelsome lands which he was not so much King of as he was a mere puppet.
"Well spoken," Nimhul spoke finally looking over the court with a measured caution, "I was chosen by the Címén and yourselves by just election and made stand my ceremony because I promised us peace. We are past the warfilled times, yet we cannot sleep until our days are done. I shall send one to speak with council of the Céragen, and it shall be mine alone who goes."
He looked at Lúbhál as if he intended to caution him specifically.
"He shall be told that this quarrel is a just one between the sons of the Northern seas. Another Herald shall be sent North, telling those rallying Pélúdin ba Banác and the other Kings rallying there that they shall heed the this agreement or they shall make foes of ourselves as well. And this I expect to be honoured for if I am not heeded than I shall be no king and will not be again until I hold the head of the traitor and embalm it that he might look upon the quarrel he has created."
The Cíména began to whisper amongst themselves.
Lúbhal spoke up as this was again directed at him, "This is a fair agreement. The quarrel is between the Ígaribhe and the friends of Pélúdin. If Ígaribhe is made outlaw, then we shall have no quarrel with the law that protects it."
"Very well," Nimhul said before turning to myself, "Rúlán Mhedharuc, you are amongst the Cíména seem to object most fervantly, what is it that you find and what is said amongst the Cíména who watch over this meeting."
"There is no objection except one; those amongst us do not wish for you to select your emissary, for it has been determined amongst us that it shall be myself."
"A wiseman does not dispute other wisemen. You shall be my selection as well. Go unto Ígaribhe and speak for us."
Sennal-Tal, Zewan-Tal
Shathath looked at her travelling companion as they came to the gates. She had spent some pieces of Meiyan gold in a small village to see herself made more presentable. Still, though she now wore her hair longer and beaded and a Zetali coat over her clothes, the mix of Meiyan and Viha styles was still evident in her. Symbology and looks would still speak to her Viha birth, only awkwardly under the venieer of civilisation. Still, she held her head firm and did her best.
She treated her guide and servants she came by, no differently than she had treated than she had treated the lord of Denipal. She sought only to do well by all.
Now she stood by the gates of the great capital of Zewan-Tal and she was prepared to make her case before a Monarch.
Shenlin Meiya
A smile came over the Dynast.
"Perhaps, though to me it seems miserable," She said, "Still far fairer than the skies of the Night before. I understand you are here to speak for Faiyinr of the Chilai? Let me not be an ill-host. Food shall be prepared soon, I would sooner recieve you at a table."
She turned to the guards who moved behind the bowing party to open the doors, one gave a sweeping gesture of the arm to signal them to follow.
Coním went first, though he walked backwards initially as he came up from the bow. He turned around after a few steps for fear of appearing absurd. Donil soon followed, and others after.
It was only as they left the door that the Meiyans upon the cushions which stood elevated over the room and moved to follow their guests.
As they walked down the halls, she kept a steady pace behind them until they reached the feasting hall where the Dynast still kept her distance but sat upon a cushion by the table in the centre. The hall was a greatone , comfortably larger than what most would cal their dwelling palce. The floors were covered in fine wood, the walls lined with gold. Servants brought many dishes, some with spices familiar to the travellers but exotic and strange to Meiyan tongues. Others native to Meiya which a Merchant might make a good livelyhood selling. The food looked and smelt fine.
Guards now stood by the door.
"We are surprised to see that Faiyinr has returned so quickly with a party to speak for her," The Meiyan Dynast sat, "And one which I can see is quite neutral."
She guarded carefully against speaking why though it seemed in her mind to be an unspoken understanding.
"I sought this because Faiyinr is not known for her..." She paused and looked to the other Meiyan who sat by her.
"She is known more for her determination and will than she is her willingness to hear and listen," He said in the most measured tone he could manage.
"And I know not how to present my case to her, for..." the Dynast paused again, "If this is not presented well, it may serve as cause for war amongst them. We ask that you hear us as impartial judges and weigh our case. Should you find us to be sympathetic, then I ask you to discuss with us, how we might best deal approach this."
"Our case," the youngman spoke, "Is that I am Tsridai, son of Hisrar and Faiyinr of the Chilai and I intend to be wed to Kolei, Dynast of the Meiya."
edited 11th Jan '13 1:04:56 PM by Fauxlosophe
Mé féin ag daṁsa faoin ngealaċ seanrince gan ċeol leis ach ceol cuisle. DS FC: 4141-3472-4041, feel free to add me.
"Mhmmm," Zedeeru nodded his head in agrement about what the others had just said, as he wolfed down whatever food and drink was available. He had never seen so many different types of food before, and he could only even name the animal or vegetables used in a tenth of the plates. It was truly shaping up to be a great day. Even if this was all a lie and he woke up on an altar getting his heart removed, it might be worth it, considering the flavors.
Halfway through a haunch he added, "Congratulations on your engagement," before starting on another item.
Denipal, Zewan-Tal
"I am." the woman said, "Dhirziivezjivifh Vfihiith?"
Gonar knew enough Viha to answer with, "No, I don't! Someone who does will be here in a second though!"
As if on cue, Captain Nezlana came briskly up the wall, an orderly keeping pace with him while filling him in on what was happening. A stern, no-nonsense man with a perpetually gloomy face. Gonar moved aside to let him look directly at the nomad woman. Nezlana glared into the darkness, squinting his old eyes.
"Is she alone?" he asked.
"As far as well can tell, sir." Gonar said with a nod.
"Armed?"
"Can't tell that, sir."
Nezlana frowned and mulled over that fact for a moment. He looked to his boots before looking back up at the woman, then he looked back down. "We'll find out right now, I suppose." He signaled for the gate to the fort to be unbarred.
"Vfihiith, what brings you here so late?" he shouted as soldiers removed the planks keep the opening to the fort shut.
Shenlin, Meiya
Tired but excited about today's prospects, Jesa awoke early before the sun rose. Dressing quickly was his intention, but noticing a tear in his cloak, he ended up spending an inordinate amount of time trying to thread it back together. With that done, he double checked his hair to see if his beads were all there and belted his sword sheath around his hips. Grabbing his bag, Jesa looked in and moved some of his belongings around to see the scroll Faiyinr had left them sitting atop a pot. He closed the bag and swung it over his shoulder, then proceeded downstairs to meet his companions.
edited 19th Dec '12 1:58:13 PM by Parable
"What a century this week has been." - Seung Min Kim