Derek58
Rocket Punch is Best Punch
- Location
- Getter Valhalla
Warhammer Fantasy: Honor is all, Chivalry is all (Bretonnia CK2)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
2405 Imperial Calendar.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A Deal
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A Deal
Philip rode down the road, angry and tired and just a bit tipsy. He sang a little song to himself to try and cheer up as he headed for the river Grismerie, where Morgyan's wagon yet waited. Dark trees and unyielding shadows shrank away as a voice with more enthusiasm than skill rang out through the valley, piercing the dark and sending away the beasts that lurked in it.
"And though the king in green now rides,
and though we are battered by darkest tides,
Take heart all you bushing brides,
For now the greatest knight forever rides!"
He continued to hum the tune to himself as he finally saw the river and the wagon. The wagon was painted in a a dozen hues of purple, from a rich, velvety violet to dark, almost black color. Inside the wagon there was humming and the sound of sharp, short bursts of fire springing into life then dying just as quickly, while a feminine voice coaxed some sort of paint to mix together more swiftly.
The river was lighted by the full glory of the moon itself. Mists rose from its banks, and the water itself seemed as unto a mirror struck into the earth, gouged from the ground then silver placed and melted until it flowed like molten metal over the banks. The sound of babbling water was high and lyrical, like a dozen muses singing a dozen songs.
Finally, the wagon's door opened. Like a ghostly figure, Morgyan Le Fae, dark woman of the forests, emerged. Her face bore gold and purple paint in long, swirling circles that also contained the symbol of the Fleur De Lys, and the paint trailed down under the dress. Her garment was a long white dress, that flowed 'round her legs like the mists themselves, and on her hands she bore two rings; one was the dark jewelry Philip gave her at their marriage, while the other was a figure of embossed obsidian that had the shape of a rose carved into it.
"Fairest!"
"Philip!" The two embraced, quickly, a deep hug and a kiss, before she broke off and looked at the new bruises he had on his face. "Knew I shouldn't have let you go."
"Pfft, what, those? Less than nothing. Give me a week, at most, and they will have faded."
Morgyan snorted before looking to the river, her smile fading as her face grew dark and serious. "What you are about to witness will be shocking, as will what you hear. I ask solely that, if you grow stormy in mood or dark in thought, you let me speak my piece."
"Always."
"Excellent. Then let us begin!"
Who will you follow?
[] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
[] Philip the Acolyte, who will be fighting
Philip rode down the road, angry and tired and just a bit tipsy. He sang a little song to himself to try and cheer up as he headed for the river Grismerie, where Morgyan's wagon yet waited. Dark trees and unyielding shadows shrank away as a voice with more enthusiasm than skill rang out through the valley, piercing the dark and sending away the beasts that lurked in it.
"And though the king in green now rides,
and though we are battered by darkest tides,
Take heart all you bushing brides,
For now the greatest knight forever rides!"
He continued to hum the tune to himself as he finally saw the river and the wagon. The wagon was painted in a a dozen hues of purple, from a rich, velvety violet to dark, almost black color. Inside the wagon there was humming and the sound of sharp, short bursts of fire springing into life then dying just as quickly, while a feminine voice coaxed some sort of paint to mix together more swiftly.
The river was lighted by the full glory of the moon itself. Mists rose from its banks, and the water itself seemed as unto a mirror struck into the earth, gouged from the ground then silver placed and melted until it flowed like molten metal over the banks. The sound of babbling water was high and lyrical, like a dozen muses singing a dozen songs.
Finally, the wagon's door opened. Like a ghostly figure, Morgyan Le Fae, dark woman of the forests, emerged. Her face bore gold and purple paint in long, swirling circles that also contained the symbol of the Fleur De Lys, and the paint trailed down under the dress. Her garment was a long white dress, that flowed 'round her legs like the mists themselves, and on her hands she bore two rings; one was the dark jewelry Philip gave her at their marriage, while the other was a figure of embossed obsidian that had the shape of a rose carved into it.
"Fairest!"
"Philip!" The two embraced, quickly, a deep hug and a kiss, before she broke off and looked at the new bruises he had on his face. "Knew I shouldn't have let you go."
"Pfft, what, those? Less than nothing. Give me a week, at most, and they will have faded."
Morgyan snorted before looking to the river, her smile fading as her face grew dark and serious. "What you are about to witness will be shocking, as will what you hear. I ask solely that, if you grow stormy in mood or dark in thought, you let me speak my piece."
"Always."
"Excellent. Then let us begin!"
Who will you follow?
[] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
[] Philip the Acolyte, who will be fighting
Last edited:
[X] Philip the Acolyte, who will be fighting
- Location
- Virginia
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
- Location
- Wall Gazing
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
Information is power.
Information is power.
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
- Location
- West Michigan
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
- Location
- Someplace USA
[X] Morgyan the Shadow, who will be negotiating
Into The Shadows I Walk
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Into The Shadows I Walk
You are Morgyan Le Fay, mistress of shadows. And while it's easy to forget, given you now spend time around people you like as opposed to power hungry social climbers (hypocrisy, thy flesh is mine), the fact remains that you are not a nice person. Good, yes, loyal, yes, but there's a reason you let Philip be the envoy: you scare people. You slink. You hide. You'll backstab your foes. Knights hate you, when they don't fear you; Ladies envy you, when they don't despise you.
A dozen swords in your personal chests tell of what happens to Bretonnia's foes by you , and the broken axle of your wagon shows how willing you to play even those you care for. You'll pay for it all, one day.
But not today.
Today, you're going to do what you do best, no matter how ugly it is. You're going to lie, cheat, steal, and hope that when it's all done, you've earned more than you lost.
You shuck off the robe as you step into the water, revealing the dark velvet dress and paint that runs over your flesh in delicate whirls and patterns. Your eyes glow, really glow, like stars in the night. HE will be here, you know sure.
Sure enough, the lights of the world dim, and the water of the river runs warm. Philip instantly pulls his sword from his back and has it held in firm grasp, sure grasp. His part is the safest, truly- simply kill a tree.
Admittedly it will breath fire. Still, he'll kill it. You're sure of that.
Then, then, you hear the laughing cry of a thousand children, the wicked cackling of a broken man, the earnest shrieks of a wounded soul, the cacophonous cries of death itself, the unholy roars of terror and sorrow.
Apollyon, Lord of Ulgu, Titania's envoy, prince, and lover. His form is all shadow and smoke, black armor covered up by a dark cloak that writhes with a will its own, unholy in shape and unhealthy in form. The only color, the only sign of anything besides the dark are jagged, pearly teeth, that reflect the moonlight off of themselves in glorious brilliance.
He is the dark and the terrible, the predator to usurp all predators. His grace is matched only by the terror he seeks to implant in you, the woe he seeks to strike at your soul with. His bloodsoaked hands have inspired dread in the people of Quenelles for generations, and he will use that against you.
Unfortunate for him, then, that you've gone through this song and dance before.
There are a few ways to face down such terror, but the most simple, the most straightforward, the easiest, is to leave no room, to fill your mind with simple purpose. To use resolve. To that end, you've thrown yourself at one idea, one stratagem, to face him.
You will be:
[] Intransigent. He will not bend you from your purpose. The red of your heraldry will be cleansed, and you will not allow him victory.
[] Contemptuous. This killer of Knights, slayer of women, and child-foe, dares judge you! He, who is not worthy to look upon true honor, never mind yourself.
[] Purposeful. You've one duty, and while he may convince you to make a trade as opposed to having it verbally beaten from him, he will make that bargain and he will live up to it.
You are Morgyan Le Fay, mistress of shadows. And while it's easy to forget, given you now spend time around people you like as opposed to power hungry social climbers (hypocrisy, thy flesh is mine), the fact remains that you are not a nice person. Good, yes, loyal, yes, but there's a reason you let Philip be the envoy: you scare people. You slink. You hide. You'll backstab your foes. Knights hate you, when they don't fear you; Ladies envy you, when they don't despise you.
A dozen swords in your personal chests tell of what happens to Bretonnia's foes by you , and the broken axle of your wagon shows how willing you to play even those you care for. You'll pay for it all, one day.
But not today.
Today, you're going to do what you do best, no matter how ugly it is. You're going to lie, cheat, steal, and hope that when it's all done, you've earned more than you lost.
You shuck off the robe as you step into the water, revealing the dark velvet dress and paint that runs over your flesh in delicate whirls and patterns. Your eyes glow, really glow, like stars in the night. HE will be here, you know sure.
Sure enough, the lights of the world dim, and the water of the river runs warm. Philip instantly pulls his sword from his back and has it held in firm grasp, sure grasp. His part is the safest, truly- simply kill a tree.
Admittedly it will breath fire. Still, he'll kill it. You're sure of that.
Then, then, you hear the laughing cry of a thousand children, the wicked cackling of a broken man, the earnest shrieks of a wounded soul, the cacophonous cries of death itself, the unholy roars of terror and sorrow.
Apollyon, Lord of Ulgu, Titania's envoy, prince, and lover. His form is all shadow and smoke, black armor covered up by a dark cloak that writhes with a will its own, unholy in shape and unhealthy in form. The only color, the only sign of anything besides the dark are jagged, pearly teeth, that reflect the moonlight off of themselves in glorious brilliance.
He is the dark and the terrible, the predator to usurp all predators. His grace is matched only by the terror he seeks to implant in you, the woe he seeks to strike at your soul with. His bloodsoaked hands have inspired dread in the people of Quenelles for generations, and he will use that against you.
Unfortunate for him, then, that you've gone through this song and dance before.
There are a few ways to face down such terror, but the most simple, the most straightforward, the easiest, is to leave no room, to fill your mind with simple purpose. To use resolve. To that end, you've thrown yourself at one idea, one stratagem, to face him.
You will be:
[] Intransigent. He will not bend you from your purpose. The red of your heraldry will be cleansed, and you will not allow him victory.
[] Contemptuous. This killer of Knights, slayer of women, and child-foe, dares judge you! He, who is not worthy to look upon true honor, never mind yourself.
[] Purposeful. You've one duty, and while he may convince you to make a trade as opposed to having it verbally beaten from him, he will make that bargain and he will live up to it.
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
So, what do we want here?