Author Topic: meanwhile in Tuornen....  (Read 4874 times)

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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meanwhile in Tuornen....
« on: May 30, 2009, 05:13:48 PM »

The Duchess lifts Her head up from a delicate embroidery She has been lately working on when difficult matters needs peace and silence to planed out correctly. The Court knows well that when the Duchess retreats to Her cambers and ask for Her embroidery then what She ask for is peace to think. Think long and throughout.
 
But now she smiles and looks at Her ladies in waiting.
 
“Please, ask for someone suitable and well informed mind you! Have such a person come tell Us about what the standing of Halflings is in Tuornen these days.”
 
She looks back at Her embroidery,
 
“And do not think I ask for Our amusement only, run now, We are waiting!”
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Tuornen / LF

Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #1 on: May 30, 2009, 05:14:18 PM »
 
The young ladies in waiting look rather embarrassed at the request. They shift about, whispering among themselves; evidently they have absolutely no idea where to dig up such a person... Or whether there be halflings in Tuornen.

Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #2 on: May 30, 2009, 05:39:55 PM »
Resigning to the situation, but quickly adapting to keep the momentum forward along the deductive path, the Duchess gets up from Her chair. She lets Her ladies adjust Her cloths and gather themselves, and off She goes.

Evidently She will walk over to the court office herself.


"Hello all,

..oh please! no need to get up Master Scribe,

how is the wife and kids by the way? Fiona was the little darling at three? and Alex is the toddler? We do keep an eye on Our trusted and loyal Court you should know Master Scribe..."
 
A warm smile pass briefly the Duchess -I am working now- demeanor.
 
"But find that form We evidently need to fill out to get any answers on anything around Court these days, and take notes, We just had Our nails done and would not want to ruin that as well today would We ? hm?"

The Duchess looks at a new map as the Master Scribe is handed a paper from an aid. The master and the aid eyes lock breifly, no mistakes now; She is not in the mood....
 
"Yes that is the form, D.O. it says on the top.

Our sweet ladies following can most likely manage to piece together the words of Our question between them from the memory in their sweet little heads, so write that down and have it processed please."

Smiling the Duchess looks at Her ladies, and they smile back as best they can.

"We will be on the balcony. Bring the kids next weekend, I would like to get to know the next Master Scribe while he is still young. And you need a higher salary now with two kids Master Scribe. Ask Our person this when you bring the kids."

The Master Scribe bows deeply.
"Your Grace, all as Our Lady wishes, all as Our Lady wishes...."

Smiling the Duchess leaves the office of the Master Scribe.

"Good Day Master Scribe."

Two ladies remain in the office to inform on the matter of the question on Halflings. And also to see to arrangements on the visit booked for the next weekend. An appointment for wife and kids to get security passes and updated lectures on what to wear, what to speak of, how to answer, and to be aware that the Duchess lost Her husband the Baron of late and is still in mourning.
« Last Edit: September 20, 2009, 09:08:02 PM by Tuornen/LF (Geir) »
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #3 on: May 30, 2009, 06:32:39 PM »
On a distance they look to be running in plain work cloths like any a city worker of the docks would wear.

"You said it would be fun!"

The man can hardly speak; he is running all he’s got.

"You said it would be easy!"

It is a mix of anger and fear in the voice of the running man.

"You said we would get rich!"

Up close it can be seen that they have leather armor, leather armor made to look like the cloths of a dock worker maybe.

"You said we would have stories to tell that would get us free beer for years!"

But they are far from any docks now.

"You said they would be too stupid to know anything before we where back with full mugs at the Maid!"

They are only two men. Far from their home, far from the city they know well.

“WILL YOU JUST SHOUT UP AND RUN!”

The two men keep running downhill. Away from the low mountain behind them.

Arrows pass overhead.

Growls can be heard. Growls of large beasts, several large Orogs follow the two men.

The sky is grey, the ground moist, its early morning in northern Tuornen.
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #4 on: February 15, 2010, 02:00:26 PM »
The orogs do not like this burning ball of fire in the sky, this Sun. Only rage drive them down the hill after the two humans, and there is no lack of rage today.

“Oh bastards! The law! Now we will hang for’sure!”

“Are you mad? The law is not out here!”

“Look forward you low witted bastard! It’s the law!”

A line of human soldiers with crossbows have emerged from the cover of a large boulder. After the first volley the orogs chase has ended. Some of the monsters limp back up the hill, some do not. The second volley ends the life of the remaining orogs.
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #5 on: February 15, 2010, 02:43:38 PM »
After receiving some hot soup and bread instead of irons and chain the two men have a hope they may not hang after all.

The soldiers captain has been watching the two men eat and now he approach.

“My scribe is writing you a Scout’s Fee for leading us to this band of orogs. I expect you are content with this arrangement?”

After a short silence and some hasty looks between the two men the older one smiles broadly.
“Yes Ser Captain Ser. Ser Captain should know we, being only poor peasants who lost their way in the night Ser Captain must know, we would give our life to serve the Lady Duchess.”

After a shocked look from the younger man the older quickly ads. “Ser Captain that is if we had a life to give that is Ser Captain.”

Now regaining his smile the older man continues. “Ser Captain, we will be on our way then, our good and narrow path home Ser Captain must know.”

The captain smiles, he is near a laugh. “Peasants indeed! I take it you grow carrots on the ballast hills south of the docks then? I grew up in Haes myself you see. And I was a guard master a few years. Maybe we have met before even?”

The older of the two men try to keep his smile. “oh…Ser Captain knows the docks well. A pride of Haes Ser Captain is! …so if Ser Captain will it we could take the fee now and be on our way.”
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #6 on: March 05, 2010, 04:54:38 AM »
On his south bound part of the patrol route the captain came upon a foreign force mounted of warriors.

Dismounting half his force and challenging these foreigners it soon came to bloodshed. The advanced and skilled crossbow wielding dragoons took a heavy toll on the slow and armoured enemy. At a distance the plate and mail of the enemy was easily pierced.

But the skill and numbers overwhelmed the dragoons by nightfall. Falling back the captain faced a wall of lances as the enemy had encircled him.

To the puzzlement of his victors the last words of the captain was loud, clear and in spite. Smiling with hate and glee he shouted!

“Come to the dock you bastards, in trickery and treachery you may have bested me but there you will find your match!”

His smile held as blood overflowed his lips and he fell.

Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-Tuornen/LF (Geir)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #7 on: March 05, 2010, 05:10:33 AM »
The enemy captain counted the victory.

The cold biting wind over the featureless rolling landscape matched the number of prisoners.

None.

This was not Avanil.
There was old hate here,
the muddy solid even resisted foreign tracks.

Hearing his First Sergeant speak down to his boots as he cleared them of mud the captain spoke.

“What do the men think of this First Sergeant?”

The First Sergeant did not look up.

“The men will follow the captain any day Sir Captain.”

Then looking up with cold eyes the First Sergeant added. “But anything can happen out here in the field Sir Captain…..”
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #8 on: April 14, 2010, 09:57:48 PM »
In Haes there are celebrations, strange for a foreigner to comprehend. There are no processions, no high speaker state the cause to celebrate, but the people smile and cheer. Bards and minstrels of the Duchess offer flowers and wine to passers by. Singers perform in city squares. It is the return of the victor that is celebrated. There are three repeating themes.

Beheading the Tyrant who know not who the Allfather favours, eager is his steps, priceless is his armour, strong may his arms be, but fast fall his head just the same. Know your enemy, Blue Riversideflowers abundant.

Victory over the cowards who attack the wounded knight, lacking is their skill, dead they fall for they know not their provocation let the knight forget his pains that moment his blade lash out, Black Hillroses abundant.

Slaughtered of the arrogant enemy, drunk on their own confidence, proven false by their flowing blood, Red Fieldflowers abundant.

In the late hours cheers are heard form the bars and beerhalls, “A Round For Our Hero Returned!”.
The Citywatch, not known for their kind feelings towards drunkards, cheer on from the city squares, helping the drunkards to a good cold bath and sufficiently intake of fresh water to sober them up enough so they can get back in past the bouncers to partake in the free beers from the Duchess bards and minstrels.

“Drink one for our hero you bastard, we will join you after our shift ends.”

But no one forgets there is a war to fight, there are enemies to slaughter, there are cowards to chase, and a tyrant to behead.
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

- Geir
Tuornen / LF

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #9 on: January 24, 2011, 12:24:34 AM »
It is spring of year 1537 HC in Tour’s Hold, it’s getting warmer, every day is brighter and the sun shines ever higher.
Early leaf sprouts forth on fresh branches. Colours returns, flower red and white, branches green. And with the first flocks of birds crossing from Endier life is back with full vigour.

There has been an ominous presence in the province for near to a year. Soldiers of Boeruine are in the castle. During the summer it was the danger, a fear born from news of events in Daulton. But there was no burning or looting in Tour's Hold. And as it became clearer what had actually happened in Haes it was soon known that destruction there had been rebuilt rather quickly.
It was heard the Duchess offered Her Baroness Tour much gratitude and honour, and each season efforts where made to keep the peace. But the fear did not abate.   

As autumn and winter closed around the land, the soldiers of Boeruine was seen on roads, on hilltops, moving about. But that was all, like a neighbour you don’t speak much with they had near become a part of the landscape, a part of the daily life. But the tension did not go away. They where foreigners, dangerous foreigners, and they where many. It was clear the nobility agreed, and that was a bad omen.
The Avanees soldier had never been overly welcome quests, but that was different, even if only the nobility understood and knew such things is had been very different for all.

But then there was news that the Duchess Herself would visit for a Spring Festival in Tour’s Hold. Matters should be solved; it was a new year, a new chance for all, a new Spring for Tour’s Hold. The Baroness Tour would arrange the events together with clergy, landowners, merchants and other nobles, local and neighbouring. There would be a Grand Festival Ball and numerous events lasting a full week. With the news hope was lifted, hope vigour could return, and by the blessing of Haelyn the province could shed fear and live fully again.
Laela Flaertes, By the Grace of Haelyn Duchess of Tuornen

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Offline X-CJS/Ruormad Coumain (Tristan)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #10 on: February 01, 2011, 02:51:31 AM »
As spring deepens and the land throughs off the shackles of winter the river trade slowly returns to Tuor's Hold a familiar face is seen by many at the docks.

Friar Roberts, his green robes stained dark, stands down at the docks. His stance casual as he converses with familiarity with the dockworkers, ship captains and factors who are the lifeblood of the town.

"Cap'n, you have a problem getting your cargo unloaded?"

"The dockworkers guild can't spare enough men till next week to get you loaded."

"Well we can't have that. Tell you what I'll have a couple of the lads pop over after midday prayer to get you loaded, but we'll see a barrel for the church and another for the festival."

"Glad we could help out Cap'n, good trade and the blessings of Sarimie on your ventures."


Later that evening one and half barrels of the best wheat beer available this early in season are deposited outside the warehouse of the reeve to Baroness stamped with the stars and diamond the Celestial Jewel.

A small note accompanies the barrels:

We sampled them first to ensure that only the best was provided for the celebration.

As the season procedes and the festival is organised further the Friar and the few men and women of the temple help out as they can to ensure that the event runs smoothly.
Most Sacred Broker Ruormad Coumain, Patriach of the Celestial Jewel of Sarimie.
The wise man invests in times of plenty to ensure plenty in times of hardship.

Offline X-WIT/Toreas Kharnmoin (Rune)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #11 on: February 01, 2011, 02:50:43 PM »
On the first eve of the Spring Festival, the Western Imperial Temple holds their weekly midnight mass. As usual, Bishop Isander leads the mass himself, though unusually the mass has been moved outside the WIT temple, due to the sheer number of people participating. Even a few Boeruine soldiers come to attend, which causes some commotion. The episode passes quickly however, as the Bishop signals to the guards to let them be. Haelynites they are after all, despite their political associations. They receive few friendly greetings however, not from their fellow attendants nor the clergy.

The Bishop's sermon is a long one. He preaches about the values of Haelyn: Justice. Honor. Courage. He reminds the nobility that it is their god-given duty to take care of their people. To treat them fairly. To rule them wisely. To stand by their oaths, be it to their liege, their subjects, or their neighbours. He reminds them to choose their friends wisely; the word of a ruler is the coin by which nation's earn peace.

To the commoners he preaches of loyalty and servitude. Through prayer and compassion, they can find understanding and enlightenment. He reminds them that in times of hardship, they should turn to their rulers for aid and support. To be respectful to their rulers. But also to make demands to their rulers.

The duty of rulership is both a privilige and a burden.

He praises the people of Tuors Hold for working hard through the winter. They have faced hardships, but through their devotion to Haelyn they have come to see spring once more. He tells them to enjoy this festival, but also to remember that the these joys are only temporary. To live a happy life under the loving eyes of their God, requires devotion and effort every day.

The sermon is ended with Lady Sara or the Baroness' household singing a hymn to Haelyn. Only 19 years old, the girl's beautiful voice has brought her fame beyond the boarders of her home-town. Tears are seen in the eyes of grown men and children alike as they listen. A lonely rose in a field of cowslips, they say. Truly, she must be a gift from Haelyn, a hushed and inspired crowd mutter as they leave to take part in the midnight celebrations.
Toreas Kharnmoin
Pontiff of All Anuire
Archprelate of the Western Imperial Temple of Haelyn

Offline X-Ghieste & HOT/GH (Matt)

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Re: meanwhile in Tuornen....
« Reply #12 on: February 01, 2011, 04:43:06 PM »
She leans back on the bales of hay, letting the spring sunshine soak into her winter cold flesh, her eyes shut against the brightness. In that self made darkness she listens and smells the world around her so much more deeply; the laughter and jostling shouts from the crowds, the freshly baking bread and roasting meat, the scent of the flowers hung in bows and garlands all over the village, even the distant music from the dancing outside the other tavern in the village from the one she was lying outside of now. So rare that Meredith got to have a moment like this, one without constant thought or action, one of pure enviroment and just merging with it, listening to the joy of the festival and of the season.

She shifted in the sunlight that flickered through her eyelids and opened them a crack, her right hand drifting gently towards the pommel of her dagger, as she looked up. Looked up to see a young man, several years her junior and hovering. Not clever enough to know where his shadow was at the very least. So inexperienced. With a sigh she sat up, keeping her face away from him, relying instead on the motion in her peripheral vision should he move. She asked him what he wanted, why he had approached her and, full of courage taken from the tap, he told her. She laughed, still not turning to him, knowing that he had watched her legs, her hips and the blonde hair that spilled from her hood and had not faced her. She asked him if it was a wager, whether he had been sent to offer his bed to her by his jeering friends and he told her no, that he had come because he had seen her in the bar of the tavern and had admired her.

She smiled, inside the hood. She told him to come back that night, that she would see him her by the bales and then they would see where the night would take them. Were he brave enough. And she stepped away into the fair, to lose herself in the crowds, as he stuttered his assertions that he would see her there.

---

She had learned some time ago that to work for the Duke of Ghieste was a dangerous thing to do; that while he paid well he expected much and the work was often bloody - a man had to carve a reputation some way it was true and both she and the Duke knew where they stood. But it meant other people sometimes wanted to take their issues out on her. She coped with it though, sometimes even enjoyed it. So it was to a vantage point in a barn opposite the bales she had come, long before dark had descended on the village and all the pretty paper lanterns strung between the trees had been lit by the mayor and his young daughter. The sounds of music echoed up and down the streets now as the beer drunken throughout the day fuelled frantic jigs and reels that caused feet to tap and heads to spin.

She watched him arrive, sit down and then start to fidget. He was pleasingly nervous and quite pretty and she did like them pretty. And there was no one else lurking in the shadows behind him. That was always a good start. From the rooftop she dropped down the side of the building, walking around to the front of it whistling as she grinned at him from beneath the hood, still drawn over so her face was still in shadow, trying not to show him the ugly scar until it was too late for him to change his mind. As he looked at her she took his hand and, without a word, took him to her room in the tavern she was to stop in. When, at last, he saw it's vicious puckered pain across her face he did not care anymore; there was more to her beauty than a flawless face.

Eventually they slept in each others arms as the music outside began to slow and grow quiet at last.

---

It was as the morning sunshine pushed through the grime of unwashed windows that the young lad, whose name she had not even known was Branden, stirred. He rolled over to wrap his arm around the woman he had spent the night with and it met empty air, surprising enough to make his open his eyes. As the light dazzled him he realised his hand had touched something wet and now felt slick. Once his sight had recovered he could see why it felt so thick a fluid, his hand caked in deep dark blood. His scream strangled in his throat as he realised that her side of the bed was heavy with it and that her clothes were still strewn across the room, intermingled with hers. As he stood up he could see the signs of a struggle, spilled tankard and her weapons on the floor instead of hanging up where she had left them. As he rounded the bed he found his voice again and, seeing what was left on the floor, he screamed, with all his breath.
His Grace Ghorien Hiriele,
Duke of Ghieste,
Grand-Maester of the Highland/Overland Traders,
Viscount of Whyrthe.
Down Right Evil Bastard!