- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
yay
story time again
wonder what wonderful BS we will be doing this time
story time again
wonder what wonderful BS we will be doing this time
Warhammer Fantasy: Honor is all, Chivalry is all (Bretonnia CK2)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
Wedding Bash pt.22
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Wedding Bash pt. 22
Much has changed, since you have arrived on the Isle of the Elves. The repercussions of this will echo for years.
But one thing-- the ever-guiding principle-- has not: Evil ought be fought. That...that is ever true. A call for aid, from a desperate people who were thrust into such, obliquely but truly, by your decisions as a younger man. If you do not stand against this...
What will you stand against? What evil will be too evil?
You fall to one knee before the queen of the Tileans, bowing your head in respect. "I swear to you, on my honor as a Grail Knight, and as a friend of the light: The muster of Montfort, twenty-thousand souls, will march. The vampires will be ended where I walk, their foul reign of terror ceased, or I will die to do it."
(Gained Oath to a Queen- Queen Teodora has asked for your aid against the vampires and fiends which sully the lands of Estalia. You have sworn that the muster of Montfort will be unleashed.)
Then there is...much speaking between the Rose of Carcassonne and the Shadow of Tilea.
For your part, you slip away unnoticed. Neither Justine nor Annick desires to stop you, and Leliana is too busy speaking to see you.
You head for the Inn where Charles and Melisende wait, eating and drinking. Though they are not yet married, they have fallen into the simple graces of marriage-- she is sketching out arrows and bows, trying to craft new designs even as he, in wisdom long earned, sprinkles honey in the oatmeal she is eating for her late breakfast.
"Son. Niece." The two of them look up with somewhat sour looks on their faces, unhappy with you and for obvious reasons.
"Can I help you?"
"First, and most importantly: I'm sorry. It was...immature of me to knock you out instead of seeking your submission." She looks...grim, at that, as though she might have expected to feel more satisfaction.
"But now, Charles, there is a question I must ask and I will ask it bluntly: did you, in your time as her squire, discern that Bellicent was your kin."
The whole room goes tense, quiet. He stops, she stops, even as you fold your hands behind your back.
He rises from the table, pushes in his chair. He stands, walks to you, and looks you in the eye, the sign of his sincerity. "I...I suspected. I suspected from the first time I saw her remove her helm; from the first time I saw mother's eyes shine at me in the dark of the tent. I never knew; yet I still should have said something-"
"Don't." You and Melisende alike seem surprised to hear the other speak, though you press on. "Let me tell you something I had to learn quick: you will make mistakes in life. You will raise your shield when you should have swung your sword. Any man who can honestly claim to have never made a mistake is a man who has not lived. In any case, it is not shame nor flaw but virtue that you had trust, had faith, kept it near and dear to your heart. Nourish it, grow it, raise it-- it will be a fine harvest, one day." You grip his shoulder, hold it tight, a source of strength. "Now, I must speak with your wife-to-be."
She raises, then. "And what if I do not wish to speak with you?"
"Then that is your right. But I ask, I pray, that the daughter of my sister might have at least enough thirst for revenge to talk with me so as to ferret out me weaknesses."
She grumbles, rises, and then steps to your side. Soon enough, you are out the door and under the sun. You begin to walk, aimlessly, through the streets, cutting through the crowds easily.
"Here to warn me what you'll do if I hurt your son?"
"No. My sons and my daughters alike are warriors born; they can protect their own honor well enough. Besides, you're a smart girl, I am sure you know it without my having to say anything. No, I'm here to tell a story."
Silence.
"It was 1424. I was still young, hadn't yet grown a beard. Didn't have a wife, a son, or a care in the world. The Knights Unbound were traveling through Montfort for some tournament or another, when I received word that my father was leading a small army to destroy an orcish assault. I convinced them to go join the army, to come with me and fight with him."
"We went to the village where my father was gathering his host. Briastre. It doesn't even show up on maps. We arrived, to great fanfare. My father embraced me.
That night, the orcs attacked. They planned to slaughter the gathered host. My father sent me and my brethren in the blade to escort the people of the village to safety. For a week we traveled to reach the nearest town, then I raced back.
I too late. When I returned, my father was dead-- and axe was planted in his side. And I wept, and I prayed more than I had ever prayed before, and I hoped. It was two weeks before Sir Aldric finally caught up with me.
Even in Mousillon fifteen years later, I woke up sometimes struck with the sheer sorrow of what had been done. Of what had been taken. I still sometimes sit in his library, just...reminiscing.
My father wasn't a perfect person. He wanted me, he desired, that I be a conqueror, and take the Massif Orcal; he prepared maps, he readied plans of 'integration', he spoke with experts in both matters.
And yet, I still think, despite this, that he earned those tears I shed for him."
You plant your hand on Melisende's shoulder. "Carole earned yours."
And with that you walk back inside, leaving a plaintive, thoughtful, tired niece.
--
Justine has returned to the common room. She and Kurt are sitting and drawing on a map of Sylvania, both with stars in their eyes. They are so caught up with their plotting that they don't notice you even as you begin to loom over them. "I do hope, Kurt, that you aren't planning on drawing my daughter into anything too nefarious?"
He doesn't seem to recognize your voice even as Justine looks up, surprise etched on her face. "Plainly, sir, I intend to make Sylvania howl."
She elbows him in the side, slamming the bony, muscle covered limb into him with enough force that, even through the chainmail he has taken to wearing after the latest vampiric attack, he feels it. Kurt looks up, sees you, and suddenly the fire goes out for one reason. One of these days, they'll recognize you are not the stereotypical Bretonnian parent. That was always more Morgyan's thing.
But hell, why not have some fun with it.
"Oh, no! I, of all people, am not going to treat attempting to conquer an unsafe place as some impossible, madman's folly. You have my blessing-- indeed, if to cleanse the impure blood of Sylvania you need nobles, the sons of Montfort I am sure can fulfill that duty: men have done worse things for land than marry, no?"
Then you slam the dagger you slowly drew into the table and grip him by his collar. "But if you get my daughter killed, there will be a reckoning-"
"Father." A hand pushes you back in your seat. It doesn't really move you-- but given the wide eyed look on the boy's face, you believe he got the (false) point.
"Alright, alright. I do still have a question, though: Why the elf? Not to be rude, Sirrah-" his eyes narrow at that- "But you are Stirlander, are you not?"
"The Graf is. Were I but some earl's son, or the lord of some castle, they might try and thrust me down-- but I am heir to it all, and above their bigotries."
"Alright, that little speech explains the how-- but not the why."
"Simple enough, Sir: a Priest of Morr warned us that we would need a wizard, someone mighty in the Wind of Shadow, and who mightier than an elf? Certainly it was not difficult to convince him: all he wanted was access to the Warpstone we pulled out, so that he might try to purify it, or find some beneficial use to it."
Well. Certainly ties itself up nicely, doesn't it?
"I see. Well. Rest well, all of you; but I am going to bed."
A swift trip back to your room, a quick scouring with water once you've taken off your clothes, then you return to your bed, tired, even as the moons return.
What do you do for day 5 of 7?
(Pick 3)
[] Go to the Blacksmiths Quarters so you can watch somebody deal with a dismounted jouster instead of doing it yourself.
[] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[] Pray. You could use...well, a whole lot of divine intervention, right now.
[] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Much has changed, since you have arrived on the Isle of the Elves. The repercussions of this will echo for years.
But one thing-- the ever-guiding principle-- has not: Evil ought be fought. That...that is ever true. A call for aid, from a desperate people who were thrust into such, obliquely but truly, by your decisions as a younger man. If you do not stand against this...
What will you stand against? What evil will be too evil?
You fall to one knee before the queen of the Tileans, bowing your head in respect. "I swear to you, on my honor as a Grail Knight, and as a friend of the light: The muster of Montfort, twenty-thousand souls, will march. The vampires will be ended where I walk, their foul reign of terror ceased, or I will die to do it."
(Gained Oath to a Queen- Queen Teodora has asked for your aid against the vampires and fiends which sully the lands of Estalia. You have sworn that the muster of Montfort will be unleashed.)
Then there is...much speaking between the Rose of Carcassonne and the Shadow of Tilea.
For your part, you slip away unnoticed. Neither Justine nor Annick desires to stop you, and Leliana is too busy speaking to see you.
You head for the Inn where Charles and Melisende wait, eating and drinking. Though they are not yet married, they have fallen into the simple graces of marriage-- she is sketching out arrows and bows, trying to craft new designs even as he, in wisdom long earned, sprinkles honey in the oatmeal she is eating for her late breakfast.
"Son. Niece." The two of them look up with somewhat sour looks on their faces, unhappy with you and for obvious reasons.
"Can I help you?"
"First, and most importantly: I'm sorry. It was...immature of me to knock you out instead of seeking your submission." She looks...grim, at that, as though she might have expected to feel more satisfaction.
"But now, Charles, there is a question I must ask and I will ask it bluntly: did you, in your time as her squire, discern that Bellicent was your kin."
The whole room goes tense, quiet. He stops, she stops, even as you fold your hands behind your back.
He rises from the table, pushes in his chair. He stands, walks to you, and looks you in the eye, the sign of his sincerity. "I...I suspected. I suspected from the first time I saw her remove her helm; from the first time I saw mother's eyes shine at me in the dark of the tent. I never knew; yet I still should have said something-"
"Don't." You and Melisende alike seem surprised to hear the other speak, though you press on. "Let me tell you something I had to learn quick: you will make mistakes in life. You will raise your shield when you should have swung your sword. Any man who can honestly claim to have never made a mistake is a man who has not lived. In any case, it is not shame nor flaw but virtue that you had trust, had faith, kept it near and dear to your heart. Nourish it, grow it, raise it-- it will be a fine harvest, one day." You grip his shoulder, hold it tight, a source of strength. "Now, I must speak with your wife-to-be."
She raises, then. "And what if I do not wish to speak with you?"
"Then that is your right. But I ask, I pray, that the daughter of my sister might have at least enough thirst for revenge to talk with me so as to ferret out me weaknesses."
She grumbles, rises, and then steps to your side. Soon enough, you are out the door and under the sun. You begin to walk, aimlessly, through the streets, cutting through the crowds easily.
"Here to warn me what you'll do if I hurt your son?"
"No. My sons and my daughters alike are warriors born; they can protect their own honor well enough. Besides, you're a smart girl, I am sure you know it without my having to say anything. No, I'm here to tell a story."
Silence.
"It was 1424. I was still young, hadn't yet grown a beard. Didn't have a wife, a son, or a care in the world. The Knights Unbound were traveling through Montfort for some tournament or another, when I received word that my father was leading a small army to destroy an orcish assault. I convinced them to go join the army, to come with me and fight with him."
"We went to the village where my father was gathering his host. Briastre. It doesn't even show up on maps. We arrived, to great fanfare. My father embraced me.
That night, the orcs attacked. They planned to slaughter the gathered host. My father sent me and my brethren in the blade to escort the people of the village to safety. For a week we traveled to reach the nearest town, then I raced back.
I too late. When I returned, my father was dead-- and axe was planted in his side. And I wept, and I prayed more than I had ever prayed before, and I hoped. It was two weeks before Sir Aldric finally caught up with me.
Even in Mousillon fifteen years later, I woke up sometimes struck with the sheer sorrow of what had been done. Of what had been taken. I still sometimes sit in his library, just...reminiscing.
My father wasn't a perfect person. He wanted me, he desired, that I be a conqueror, and take the Massif Orcal; he prepared maps, he readied plans of 'integration', he spoke with experts in both matters.
And yet, I still think, despite this, that he earned those tears I shed for him."
You plant your hand on Melisende's shoulder. "Carole earned yours."
And with that you walk back inside, leaving a plaintive, thoughtful, tired niece.
--
Justine has returned to the common room. She and Kurt are sitting and drawing on a map of Sylvania, both with stars in their eyes. They are so caught up with their plotting that they don't notice you even as you begin to loom over them. "I do hope, Kurt, that you aren't planning on drawing my daughter into anything too nefarious?"
He doesn't seem to recognize your voice even as Justine looks up, surprise etched on her face. "Plainly, sir, I intend to make Sylvania howl."
She elbows him in the side, slamming the bony, muscle covered limb into him with enough force that, even through the chainmail he has taken to wearing after the latest vampiric attack, he feels it. Kurt looks up, sees you, and suddenly the fire goes out for one reason. One of these days, they'll recognize you are not the stereotypical Bretonnian parent. That was always more Morgyan's thing.
But hell, why not have some fun with it.
"Oh, no! I, of all people, am not going to treat attempting to conquer an unsafe place as some impossible, madman's folly. You have my blessing-- indeed, if to cleanse the impure blood of Sylvania you need nobles, the sons of Montfort I am sure can fulfill that duty: men have done worse things for land than marry, no?"
Then you slam the dagger you slowly drew into the table and grip him by his collar. "But if you get my daughter killed, there will be a reckoning-"
"Father." A hand pushes you back in your seat. It doesn't really move you-- but given the wide eyed look on the boy's face, you believe he got the (false) point.
"Alright, alright. I do still have a question, though: Why the elf? Not to be rude, Sirrah-" his eyes narrow at that- "But you are Stirlander, are you not?"
"The Graf is. Were I but some earl's son, or the lord of some castle, they might try and thrust me down-- but I am heir to it all, and above their bigotries."
"Alright, that little speech explains the how-- but not the why."
"Simple enough, Sir: a Priest of Morr warned us that we would need a wizard, someone mighty in the Wind of Shadow, and who mightier than an elf? Certainly it was not difficult to convince him: all he wanted was access to the Warpstone we pulled out, so that he might try to purify it, or find some beneficial use to it."
Well. Certainly ties itself up nicely, doesn't it?
"I see. Well. Rest well, all of you; but I am going to bed."
A swift trip back to your room, a quick scouring with water once you've taken off your clothes, then you return to your bed, tired, even as the moons return.
What do you do for day 5 of 7?
(Pick 3)
[] Go to the Blacksmiths Quarters so you can watch somebody deal with a dismounted jouster instead of doing it yourself.
[] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[] Pray. You could use...well, a whole lot of divine intervention, right now.
[] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Spending time with the last of our family, looking for our wife (if nothing else I'd prefer that we resolve as much of this whole mess as possible before going back to regular turns), and getting gifts for the rest of our family.
Kind of want to pray to see if we get anything else of use but family comes first for us.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Spending time with the last of our family, looking for our wife (if nothing else I'd prefer that we resolve as much of this whole mess as possible before going back to regular turns), and getting gifts for the rest of our family.
Kind of want to pray to see if we get anything else of use but family comes first for us.
- Location
- USA
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
I'd rather get things squared away with the rest of our family before we go and confront Morgyan again. It just kinda feels better, plus it lets us get a handle on the situation with everyone before bringing her back in or confronting her again
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
I'd rather get things squared away with the rest of our family before we go and confront Morgyan again. It just kinda feels better, plus it lets us get a handle on the situation with everyone before bringing her back in or confronting her again
Genesys
(Discrete Mokona)
- Location
- California
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Still too mad yeah. Need to CHILL
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Still too mad yeah. Need to CHILL
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
When she's ready to stop hiding on her own she can come out herself.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
When she's ready to stop hiding on her own she can come out herself.
- Location
- Sweden
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
- Location
- Germany
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
I would prefer to delay speaking to Morgyan until Philip has calmed down a bit, but if four days is not enough, then two more days probably won't help either.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
I would prefer to delay speaking to Morgyan until Philip has calmed down a bit, but if four days is not enough, then two more days probably won't help either.
- Location
- Sweden
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
[x] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[x] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[x] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
get the rest of the famely at least somewhat behind you before you go head of the dragon lady love wife of yours
[x] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[x] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
get the rest of the famely at least somewhat behind you before you go head of the dragon lady love wife of yours
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Good point. If and when we see her again, we need things handled with our family.
Sanglo
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Sanglo
"They left in blood, and in fire, and in death; and they gave to us a thousand-fold what they received in their home.
-Chief Aderyn
(Source)
The year was 2200. The Age of Three Empires had gripped the weakened realm of Sigmar for centuries. In those lands loyal to the Wolf-Emperor, pogroms against the Sigmarite minority in those heavily Ulrican lands were common; Nordland and Ostland alike pushed those loyal to the man-god, taking property, land and even lives with abandon. That came to a head that blasted year-- a dozen homes each, inhabitants inside still, were burned to the ground in a frenzy of death throughout the backwaters of Ostland and Nordland.
And so it was that, to escape this un-Civil War and religious persecution, a young man named Sigwin led an expedition of ten-thousand Sigmarites to the ocean, seeking a new land and new freedom. They suffered yet more in those hellish ships, filled with the teeming masses of people-- and yet their faith in Sigmar, in their new lord, and in their new land they would find.
What they found was Albion. It rained with a harsh, miserable, bloody power. The bogs were everywhere. Cyclopean servants of Chaos, not seen in the Old World since King Philippe the Strong had driven them to extinction on the mainland 6 centuries earlier, the Fimir, assailed them mercilessly.
And yet there were not Ulricans. No Emperors. No Imperials but them.
Setting ashore, these Sigmarites soon enough set to work founding a city, and they named it the Neuland, and were ruled by Sigwin. But the people had not learned from their own suffering, had not taken wisdom from it. Instead, the Sanglos turned upon the natives of the Isle, turned with all the cruelty and rage they had to conquer the land, and make it their own.
The natives fought valiantly.
The natives fought nobly.
The natives fought honorably.
The natives died.
The Sanglos brought steel, sickness, and surprise with them-- diseases the men of Albion had never known that ravaged their numbers, steel stronger than the bronze and iron the men of Albion wielded, the surprise of a professional army compared to the coteries of the petty chiefs, unleashing war-horses-- though in those days guns were too unpredictable too be used in the horrendous weather of Albion. And thus, though they were the better men than the Sanglos, the natives fell back, losing more and more.
But it did not happen swift.
The Albion-men called upon the Dead of the Isle of Wights, unleashed the fallen heroes of ages past. When the Norscans attacked and conquered huge swathes of the Sigmarite, the natives took great advantage to reclaim for themselves that lost land. Still though, for 20 decades this horrendous war occupied both Imperial born and Albion-man; but in the end, just as all seemed lost, the Hero Arzhur rose up and rode out and saved all the Isle; and in the end the fourth Sanglo king, who detested the crown with his very being, knelt before Arzhur that he might free himself, in some measure, from its responsibility.
And so the dreams of conquest are not quite ended, for many veterans of that to-the-teeth war believe that with cannon, and gun, and magery to face the natives they can conquer; but they are stoppered, and slowed, and the Kingdom of Neuland added to the whole of Albion instead of the other way around.
"They left in blood, and in fire, and in death; and they gave to us a thousand-fold what they received in their home.
-Chief Aderyn
(Source)
The year was 2200. The Age of Three Empires had gripped the weakened realm of Sigmar for centuries. In those lands loyal to the Wolf-Emperor, pogroms against the Sigmarite minority in those heavily Ulrican lands were common; Nordland and Ostland alike pushed those loyal to the man-god, taking property, land and even lives with abandon. That came to a head that blasted year-- a dozen homes each, inhabitants inside still, were burned to the ground in a frenzy of death throughout the backwaters of Ostland and Nordland.
And so it was that, to escape this un-Civil War and religious persecution, a young man named Sigwin led an expedition of ten-thousand Sigmarites to the ocean, seeking a new land and new freedom. They suffered yet more in those hellish ships, filled with the teeming masses of people-- and yet their faith in Sigmar, in their new lord, and in their new land they would find.
What they found was Albion. It rained with a harsh, miserable, bloody power. The bogs were everywhere. Cyclopean servants of Chaos, not seen in the Old World since King Philippe the Strong had driven them to extinction on the mainland 6 centuries earlier, the Fimir, assailed them mercilessly.
And yet there were not Ulricans. No Emperors. No Imperials but them.
Setting ashore, these Sigmarites soon enough set to work founding a city, and they named it the Neuland, and were ruled by Sigwin. But the people had not learned from their own suffering, had not taken wisdom from it. Instead, the Sanglos turned upon the natives of the Isle, turned with all the cruelty and rage they had to conquer the land, and make it their own.
The natives fought valiantly.
The natives fought nobly.
The natives fought honorably.
The natives died.
The Sanglos brought steel, sickness, and surprise with them-- diseases the men of Albion had never known that ravaged their numbers, steel stronger than the bronze and iron the men of Albion wielded, the surprise of a professional army compared to the coteries of the petty chiefs, unleashing war-horses-- though in those days guns were too unpredictable too be used in the horrendous weather of Albion. And thus, though they were the better men than the Sanglos, the natives fell back, losing more and more.
But it did not happen swift.
The Albion-men called upon the Dead of the Isle of Wights, unleashed the fallen heroes of ages past. When the Norscans attacked and conquered huge swathes of the Sigmarite, the natives took great advantage to reclaim for themselves that lost land. Still though, for 20 decades this horrendous war occupied both Imperial born and Albion-man; but in the end, just as all seemed lost, the Hero Arzhur rose up and rode out and saved all the Isle; and in the end the fourth Sanglo king, who detested the crown with his very being, knelt before Arzhur that he might free himself, in some measure, from its responsibility.
And so the dreams of conquest are not quite ended, for many veterans of that to-the-teeth war believe that with cannon, and gun, and magery to face the natives they can conquer; but they are stoppered, and slowed, and the Kingdom of Neuland added to the whole of Albion instead of the other way around.
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KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Anyone wanting to seek out our Wife should be picking Prayer as another 1 of the 3 options. The Lady's grace and peace will be imperative for this discussion. If we are not centered, if we are not drawing deep from that well of wisdom...I do not like our chances.
[X] Spend time with Godfrey and Annick. You'd like to know what aid you can offer to his crusade.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Anyone wanting to seek out our Wife should be picking Prayer as another 1 of the 3 options. The Lady's grace and peace will be imperative for this discussion. If we are not centered, if we are not drawing deep from that well of wisdom...I do not like our chances.
- Location
- Mists of Albion
[X] Spend time with Leliana and Grègoire. Your eldest daughter seemed angry, last you saw her, for obvious reasons.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Some simple back of the napkin math on population I've been running:
Quenelles: 10 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 20,000 Knights (15000 KE, 3000 HK, 2000 KOTR)
Lyonesse: 8 Million, 400-1 Ratio: 20,000 Knights (15000 KE, 3000 HK, 2000 KOTR)
Courrone: 7.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 15,000 Knights (12000 KE, 2225 HK, 775 KOTR)
Carcassone: 6 Million, 300-1 Ratio: 20,000 Knights (15000 KE, 3000 HK, 2000 KOTR)
Bordelaux: 5.5 Million, 250-1 Ratio: 22,000 Knights (16500 KE, 3300 HK, 2200 KOTR)
Aquitiane: 4 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 8,000 Knights (6000 KE, 1200 HK, 800 KOTR)
Brionne: 3.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 7,000 Knights (5250 KE, 1050 HK, 700 KOTR)
L'Anguille: 3 Million, 300-1 Ratio: 10,000 Knights (7500 KE, 1500 HK, 1000 KOTR)
Gisoreux: 2.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 5,000 Knights (3750 KE, 750 HK, 500 KOTR)
Bastonne: 2.1 Million, 700-1 Ratio: 3,000 Knights (2250 KE, 450 HK, 300 KOTR)
Artois: 2 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 4,000 Knights (3000 KE, 600 HK, 400 KOTR)
Parravon: 1.8 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 3,600 Knights (2700 KE, 540 HK, 360 KOTR)
Mousillon: 1.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 3,000 Knights (2250 KE, 450 HK, 300 KOTR)
Écosse: 1.2 Million, 400-1 Ratio: 3,000 Knights (2250 KE, 450 HK, 300 KOTR)
Montagneterre: 100 Thousand, 200-1 Ratio: 500 Knights (375 KE, 75 HK, 50 KOTR)
(Montagneterre, before anyone asks, gets what I call the crusader bonus, still, where in cases of external war the immigrants call their family to raise up numbers. Hence how the army of Montagneterre was so large against the Dark Elves)
Quenelles: 10 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 20,000 Knights (15000 KE, 3000 HK, 2000 KOTR)
Lyonesse: 8 Million, 400-1 Ratio: 20,000 Knights (15000 KE, 3000 HK, 2000 KOTR)
Courrone: 7.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 15,000 Knights (12000 KE, 2225 HK, 775 KOTR)
Carcassone: 6 Million, 300-1 Ratio: 20,000 Knights (15000 KE, 3000 HK, 2000 KOTR)
Bordelaux: 5.5 Million, 250-1 Ratio: 22,000 Knights (16500 KE, 3300 HK, 2200 KOTR)
Aquitiane: 4 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 8,000 Knights (6000 KE, 1200 HK, 800 KOTR)
Brionne: 3.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 7,000 Knights (5250 KE, 1050 HK, 700 KOTR)
L'Anguille: 3 Million, 300-1 Ratio: 10,000 Knights (7500 KE, 1500 HK, 1000 KOTR)
Gisoreux: 2.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 5,000 Knights (3750 KE, 750 HK, 500 KOTR)
Bastonne: 2.1 Million, 700-1 Ratio: 3,000 Knights (2250 KE, 450 HK, 300 KOTR)
Artois: 2 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 4,000 Knights (3000 KE, 600 HK, 400 KOTR)
Parravon: 1.8 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 3,600 Knights (2700 KE, 540 HK, 360 KOTR)
Mousillon: 1.5 Million, 500-1 Ratio: 3,000 Knights (2250 KE, 450 HK, 300 KOTR)
Écosse: 1.2 Million, 400-1 Ratio: 3,000 Knights (2250 KE, 450 HK, 300 KOTR)
Montagneterre: 100 Thousand, 200-1 Ratio: 500 Knights (375 KE, 75 HK, 50 KOTR)
(Montagneterre, before anyone asks, gets what I call the crusader bonus, still, where in cases of external war the immigrants call their family to raise up numbers. Hence how the army of Montagneterre was so large against the Dark Elves)
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King Arthur
The Once and Future King
[X] Pray. You could use...well, a whole lot of divine intervention, right now.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
[X] Look for Morgyan. No matter how mad you might be (Spoiler: That's real fucking mad), you're not just going to let her hide; she is your wife; more importantly, though, she is your lady-love.
[X] There's a small dress shop you saw near the Cathayan store, Zhen's; you can buy your granddaughters something useful now, though Eleanor--if the visions mean anything at all-- might need it earlier than the others.
Bastonne
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Bastonne
"Tell me, Imperial, what do you know of war, of death, of honor? My great-grandfather slew the warboss Graytooth, my grandfather slew the dragon Malafax, and my father, Lady rest him well, killed a dozen Druchii sorcerers, and all without your guns."
-Sir Guiche
(Source)
Gilles' own land, hence the Uniter came. A beautiful land once, and even now, struck a most grievous blow, grimly so. Though Wurzag struck it, and his foul acts killed many-- half the land's people were slain, or fled to safety-- it remains strong.
The men of Bastonne are a prideful lot, often bordering on arrogance. To an extent, it is earned-- they are indeed great knights, as so it should be from those who have the blood of Gilles flowing in them in many cases and the aspiration of such in all-- but that does not make it grate any less. It does not help the matter that it is often Bastonnians, lustily thirsty for glory and honor, that travel abroad, seeking also to extend Bretonnia's good name. Hence it is often Bastonnians that are thought of as the stereotypical Bretonnian, and while it would be unwise to speak ill of them, there is a saying-- roughly translated more poetic in the original Bretonnian-- that describes perhaps the root of the problem: "When a Bastonnian is born, the Lady flips a coin. Heads, they act like Gilles. Tails, they won't stop talking about Gilles."
Still, even the most conceited and pretentious of Bastonnians will seek to meet up to those pretensions and conceits they hold-- they will essay, with grand efforts, to live up to the example of Gilles, and with obvious reason-- his touch is everywhere. Estates he constructed, homes he crafted, towns he founded, all can be walked in, examples of living history. Indeed, the castle he ruled from, though barred to even the greatest of foreigners, station or title unimportant, it is open and to every station of Bretonnian, the lowliest and weakest to the strongest and richest alike, to act as inspiration; many will visit his Grail Chapel at least once in their life. Wicked things quake when they know the lords of Bastonne hunt for them, for that is a fight they will not win easily, one that will come down to death.
It is often supposed that the Knights of Bastonne naively allowed evil in law and in the venality of their servants. To an extent this was true, though never as much as some supposed-- but decent men who believe the best often are used by foul, greedy and corrupt people to hide their own flaws, attaching themselves like ticks to those decent men. However, Alix La Maréchale, de facto regent of the Land until her brother returns, has with the same intensity as allowed her to pave the path that many ladies who wish to battle now follow, set to work cleansing these men with the likely limited time she has as, essentially, ruler.
There are whispers, too, that the young Duke Errant, convinced by the earnest pleading of those who escaped from the Black Chasm, fervent calls from the ever-wrathsome nobles, and the desire to have the head of at least one Gray Seer in his collection of stuffed trophies from his foes, sends letters to many nobles, preparing a host to cleanse the Black Chasm in fire and death, an Errantry War, with a host gathered from every duchy to strike the weakened Skaven, whose natural ability to recover is foiled by the mutating nature of Wurzag's magic and their own inclination to treachery. Despite the seeming mutually inclusive nature of their goals and those of the Dawi Throngs, no dwarfs will march with the host, for the Bastonnian has declared that this is personal between the men of Bretonnia and the foul rats, a settling of grudges between the filthy mutants and the scions of honor.
The Dawi can respect that.
Favored Virtues: Virtue of Heroism, Virtue of the Ideal
"Tell me, Imperial, what do you know of war, of death, of honor? My great-grandfather slew the warboss Graytooth, my grandfather slew the dragon Malafax, and my father, Lady rest him well, killed a dozen Druchii sorcerers, and all without your guns."
-Sir Guiche
(Source)
Gilles' own land, hence the Uniter came. A beautiful land once, and even now, struck a most grievous blow, grimly so. Though Wurzag struck it, and his foul acts killed many-- half the land's people were slain, or fled to safety-- it remains strong.
The men of Bastonne are a prideful lot, often bordering on arrogance. To an extent, it is earned-- they are indeed great knights, as so it should be from those who have the blood of Gilles flowing in them in many cases and the aspiration of such in all-- but that does not make it grate any less. It does not help the matter that it is often Bastonnians, lustily thirsty for glory and honor, that travel abroad, seeking also to extend Bretonnia's good name. Hence it is often Bastonnians that are thought of as the stereotypical Bretonnian, and while it would be unwise to speak ill of them, there is a saying-- roughly translated more poetic in the original Bretonnian-- that describes perhaps the root of the problem: "When a Bastonnian is born, the Lady flips a coin. Heads, they act like Gilles. Tails, they won't stop talking about Gilles."
Still, even the most conceited and pretentious of Bastonnians will seek to meet up to those pretensions and conceits they hold-- they will essay, with grand efforts, to live up to the example of Gilles, and with obvious reason-- his touch is everywhere. Estates he constructed, homes he crafted, towns he founded, all can be walked in, examples of living history. Indeed, the castle he ruled from, though barred to even the greatest of foreigners, station or title unimportant, it is open and to every station of Bretonnian, the lowliest and weakest to the strongest and richest alike, to act as inspiration; many will visit his Grail Chapel at least once in their life. Wicked things quake when they know the lords of Bastonne hunt for them, for that is a fight they will not win easily, one that will come down to death.
It is often supposed that the Knights of Bastonne naively allowed evil in law and in the venality of their servants. To an extent this was true, though never as much as some supposed-- but decent men who believe the best often are used by foul, greedy and corrupt people to hide their own flaws, attaching themselves like ticks to those decent men. However, Alix La Maréchale, de facto regent of the Land until her brother returns, has with the same intensity as allowed her to pave the path that many ladies who wish to battle now follow, set to work cleansing these men with the likely limited time she has as, essentially, ruler.
There are whispers, too, that the young Duke Errant, convinced by the earnest pleading of those who escaped from the Black Chasm, fervent calls from the ever-wrathsome nobles, and the desire to have the head of at least one Gray Seer in his collection of stuffed trophies from his foes, sends letters to many nobles, preparing a host to cleanse the Black Chasm in fire and death, an Errantry War, with a host gathered from every duchy to strike the weakened Skaven, whose natural ability to recover is foiled by the mutating nature of Wurzag's magic and their own inclination to treachery. Despite the seeming mutually inclusive nature of their goals and those of the Dawi Throngs, no dwarfs will march with the host, for the Bastonnian has declared that this is personal between the men of Bretonnia and the foul rats, a settling of grudges between the filthy mutants and the scions of honor.
The Dawi can respect that.
Favored Virtues: Virtue of Heroism, Virtue of the Ideal
Wedding Bash Pt.23
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Wedding Bash Pt.23
You awaken from slumber, rested. Though the beat of your heart misses its opposite, you still feel a certain vigor returning to your old limbs, a strength of arms.
You strip off your shirt, throw on a simple woolen shirt of vibrant red and pants of darkest black. Shiny leather boots of red and dark wyvern-flesh gloves stained black by inks of Nippon. The colors of Gisoreux, a potent message.
Heading out, Leliana and Gregoire are sitting together. He rests his head upon a couch cushion, softly plucking notes on his silver-stringed lyre, somber notes of dark things and darker beings. Thoughtless words set to the tune flow from him like a sieve of sorrow, and his clothes are all somber blues and reds.
Leliana is hastily scrawling something, planning. You might not tell it by her hair-- coiffed as ever; her clothes, just as grand as always, a dress of grand, trailing green things and a jeweled bodice laced with emeralds to commemorate the death of Wurzag; indeed by form you might think your daughter was as stoic as ever.
But she scrawls with hasty hand, and her fingers flex with an unconscious energy; for all that she might look more her mother's daughter than you, your strength courses through her veins and you know its tell signs as well as you know your own.
She's angry.
"Leliana."
She turns to you, sour faced. "I'm coming with you."
Smart girl.
"No you're not. You're going to stay and watch for your mother in case she comes back."
"Like hell I am!"
"You are my daughter, and I love you-- but by the Lady, you are not nearly calm enough to find her, and certainly not calm enough to speak with her."
"Not calm enough to-- great Gilles above! Father, she betrayed every ounce of trust she ever had placed in her; birthed a daughter to serve the Fay under false pretenses! Every foul deed, every dark thing she ever taught me not to do, blown away in an instant for...what? Small protections? The promise of power?" Her voice reaches higher octaves, more power, more anger etched in all of her syllables.
"More than that, she decided that she got to rip this from you! Take it from you. She swore an oath, you both did, the same oath that the nobility of Bretonnia have sworn since Gilles himself-- to love, to cherish, to honor. Where was the love when she deceived you? Where was the cherishing as she took what ought be sacred, a bond of trust, and lied? Where was the honor as she gave a child not only to be taught by them, but to be raised as one of them? And you can't even get angry-- not even for the child she so bilked, so damned! What is wrong with you?"
"...You think I am not mad? You think that, what-- because I know some measure of self-control I do not rage, my blood does not boil? I have lived forty years on this world submerged in evil by wicked men-- and added to, again and again, as rage blinded decent men, burned them, turned them! As the thirst to soothe anger thrust them, always and ever, into damnation! I saw my sister consumed by it. I saw again and again I wandered Mousillon in the very midst of war itself. More, Leliana, I am a Grail Knight. My very soul cries to me the full weight of her sins, of my sins, and of the sins of my children-- and my mind welds that together in the call to forgive, that we might stop the cycle!
Now daughter of mine, you are going to stay here, and keep the peace if your mother should return."
She is...cowed, then.
And so you set out, whispering to the Lady under your breath and the people fading to blurs as you speak to your goddess:
Dear font of honor,
guide me in my search-
let me save one more soul-
disperse the rushing storm-
light the dark by your glory.
Let me bear your torch to a tormented soul,
bring your light to one who needs it,
save from the darkness of foul spirits one who has earned your benevolence.
By your will, and the will of Gilles!
There's a flash of black, and you see her walking through the alley near you, your vision fading more until all you can see is her, shown to you by the Lady, despite the masses that should hide her. She has a bloody knife in hand, and what appears to be a vial of druchii poison and a bottle of wine, along with several letters.
She has not noticed you yet, but she will.
What do you do?
[] Call to her
[] Invite her to go shopping for dresses
[] Embrace her
--
TFW You promise to have something up soon, and then everything goes to shit for like, six days.
You awaken from slumber, rested. Though the beat of your heart misses its opposite, you still feel a certain vigor returning to your old limbs, a strength of arms.
You strip off your shirt, throw on a simple woolen shirt of vibrant red and pants of darkest black. Shiny leather boots of red and dark wyvern-flesh gloves stained black by inks of Nippon. The colors of Gisoreux, a potent message.
Heading out, Leliana and Gregoire are sitting together. He rests his head upon a couch cushion, softly plucking notes on his silver-stringed lyre, somber notes of dark things and darker beings. Thoughtless words set to the tune flow from him like a sieve of sorrow, and his clothes are all somber blues and reds.
Leliana is hastily scrawling something, planning. You might not tell it by her hair-- coiffed as ever; her clothes, just as grand as always, a dress of grand, trailing green things and a jeweled bodice laced with emeralds to commemorate the death of Wurzag; indeed by form you might think your daughter was as stoic as ever.
But she scrawls with hasty hand, and her fingers flex with an unconscious energy; for all that she might look more her mother's daughter than you, your strength courses through her veins and you know its tell signs as well as you know your own.
She's angry.
"Leliana."
She turns to you, sour faced. "I'm coming with you."
Smart girl.
"No you're not. You're going to stay and watch for your mother in case she comes back."
"Like hell I am!"
"You are my daughter, and I love you-- but by the Lady, you are not nearly calm enough to find her, and certainly not calm enough to speak with her."
"Not calm enough to-- great Gilles above! Father, she betrayed every ounce of trust she ever had placed in her; birthed a daughter to serve the Fay under false pretenses! Every foul deed, every dark thing she ever taught me not to do, blown away in an instant for...what? Small protections? The promise of power?" Her voice reaches higher octaves, more power, more anger etched in all of her syllables.
"More than that, she decided that she got to rip this from you! Take it from you. She swore an oath, you both did, the same oath that the nobility of Bretonnia have sworn since Gilles himself-- to love, to cherish, to honor. Where was the love when she deceived you? Where was the cherishing as she took what ought be sacred, a bond of trust, and lied? Where was the honor as she gave a child not only to be taught by them, but to be raised as one of them? And you can't even get angry-- not even for the child she so bilked, so damned! What is wrong with you?"
"...You think I am not mad? You think that, what-- because I know some measure of self-control I do not rage, my blood does not boil? I have lived forty years on this world submerged in evil by wicked men-- and added to, again and again, as rage blinded decent men, burned them, turned them! As the thirst to soothe anger thrust them, always and ever, into damnation! I saw my sister consumed by it. I saw again and again I wandered Mousillon in the very midst of war itself. More, Leliana, I am a Grail Knight. My very soul cries to me the full weight of her sins, of my sins, and of the sins of my children-- and my mind welds that together in the call to forgive, that we might stop the cycle!
Now daughter of mine, you are going to stay here, and keep the peace if your mother should return."
She is...cowed, then.
And so you set out, whispering to the Lady under your breath and the people fading to blurs as you speak to your goddess:
Dear font of honor,
guide me in my search-
let me save one more soul-
disperse the rushing storm-
light the dark by your glory.
Let me bear your torch to a tormented soul,
bring your light to one who needs it,
save from the darkness of foul spirits one who has earned your benevolence.
By your will, and the will of Gilles!
There's a flash of black, and you see her walking through the alley near you, your vision fading more until all you can see is her, shown to you by the Lady, despite the masses that should hide her. She has a bloody knife in hand, and what appears to be a vial of druchii poison and a bottle of wine, along with several letters.
She has not noticed you yet, but she will.
What do you do?
[] Call to her
[] Invite her to go shopping for dresses
[] Embrace her
--
TFW You promise to have something up soon, and then everything goes to shit for like, six days.
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