Knights and Squires
I'm seriously getting my homework done too. I swear.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown The bright day had become dark. Clouds covered the sky and hung pregnant with white snow. Barren was the earth and dead the forests, for nothing stirred. Nothing breathed. A thick fog swept like the black oceans into the land…and all became but shadows. The winds gently wailed, and from the heavens fell snow. A snow so impossibly white, shimmering so pure, so innocent and frail. It fell softer than love to the earth, carried in the whispers of the wind. A shroud of fog came thick and sudden from the frosted forests, gently enveloping the Fort of Solanthus. All was white this day, and the world was good…
Therian; Squire of the Crown He sat in a wooden chair, leaned over a small table, his elbows propped against the wooden counter and a ninety degree angle so that the book his hands held was near enough to read well. He was studying the oath and the measure as was his duty as a squire of the Solamnic knighthood. He had changed into much more comfortable clothing given to him at the armory. Un-dyed cloth, a grayish white, comprised the tunic and jerkins. the cloth, though thick to protect form the cold, was much more comfortable than Therian's riding leathers, ragged tabard, and rusty ole chain mail he had worn here. The measure, as he had found from his studies, was the laws of chivalry the Solamnic Knights followed. It provided a squire whom followed it with discipline and brought those knights who followed it honor. Of course, all knights and squires did follow it.. At least those of the Solamnic order, or they wouldn’t have been knights of Solamnia. It interested him, and he further delved into this book. He would later read such articles of honor that explained that a knight shouldn't attack another unarmed man, should defend the innocent, and a knight captured by another knight should be treated with the same respect one would treat his family with. He knew some of this, but still. It was nice to know, a lot of other knightly codes were similar to this one.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam stood upon the battlements, his ravaged face raised to the white sky. He watched the flakes fall from heaven to earth, dancing beautifully in each gust of wind. The young knight lay coiled under heaving shells of plate and steel, a great black cloak of bear fur wrung about him. From his chin and cheeks a closely cropped beard grew as golden as the sun. His skin was inhumanly white, his eyes horridly blue. So very blue…
Squire Blayne shivered lightly from the crisp wind that swept up behind her, small flakes fell softly on her lashes and nose. She loved snow, it was almost calming as it fell. Wrinkling her nose as she looked up at the darken fluffy clouds, her eyes rapidly blinking as flakes fell into them. The wool cloak that surrounded her form danced upon the winds, like a jig only they knew the rhythm to. She pulled it closer to her chest as her skin prickled with Goosebumps causing a series of shutters. She blew out a small sigh of content, her breath seen as it moved path. Blayne could stay where she was for several more minutes but figured she should locate the Lord Valerik. Shaking away thoughts, turned upon her heel back towards the keep. Upon entering she shook off the lasting moisture from her cloak, her fingers combing back locks that had fallen once more in her face.
Sir Pelleas: At current the High Clerist was abound, riding to his heart's content on the flat plains of Solanthus, the Fields Têranhir. The knightly contingent that rode with him was composed of twenty Sword Knights, good men and true, and sharp swords all. They galloped across the plain in a column of two, ten knights on either side. Pelleas rode at the forefront, leading over Tundarath, gauntlets tight about the reins. The bitter winds whipped their faces with snow and chill, yet the visors of their helms protected their eyes. Beside him rode Sir Goran Whitehall, who had proved himself on many missions, and recently lost his best friend, Téydor Dolaar, to the great dragon Semõrig the Vile. Behind them rode a standard bearer, who lofted high the banner of Solamnia, and beside him a Trumpeter.
Lord Valerik - Lord Valerik had retired after the previous night's events and had not shown himself since then... locked away within a private chamber, apparently delving through several meetings in a row. Including more than a few with Sir Pelleas, and Sir Lucan. The newly elected Grand Master- Pro Tempore had been for all his secrecy a buzz of activity within the keep. It was only now, a full day after that Valerik poked his head from hiding. The knight strode languidly down one off of the inner keep, his arms folded behind his back a long red coat, heavily embroidered with gold inlay shrouding his other clothing. He appeared to be deep in thought.
Sir Pelleas: The lances and spears of the small division stabbed up into the sky, a miniature forest of ashwood, and their bright spearheads glinted when the sun permeated the shield of grey above. All flew banners, but of slightly smaller size than the one carried by the Standard Bearer. Hooves thundered upon the plate, clattering against rock and turf, and kicking up the thin, cracked layer of snow and frost that paralyzed the dying grass. "Solanthus ahead! Raise your banners and your spirits, men!" The gatemen ahead were roused by the trumpeter's brazen call, and answered with their own battlehorns. By the time the High Clerist reached the gate, it was drawn open and they were received with the loud acclaim of the Men-at-arms, who cheered and clattered sword against shield.
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam lowered his gaze from the skies to the endless wash of white fields. There, in the white world he spotted the Pelleas’ contingent. But for a minute he watched them, listening to the hooves that viciously broke the earth and send a spray of snow into the wind. The sound of boots grating on granite and snow slapped him. Liam’s gaze tore along the walls, until in the thick of snow he saw Valerik pacing. The Lord of Shields stood, and did naught but watch…
Squire Curiel The beauty of nature was ambivalent that day; the cold a curse, but the brilliance of each crystal snowflake desperately tried to swallow the gloom. She did not like when the sky hung so heavy, pressing down upon the earth in a blight of gray dreariness. It seemed to shroud her, try to surround her until she felt the very air was shrinking about her, enclosing her in the oppressive mists. No, she would think like that. Not today. Not again. Curiel left the shadows to dance on the walls. She left the hall and crossed the courtyard, still fastening the dark cloak about her shoulders. There had been no word of orders for her, of any duties she was to perform. And it seemed there was time enough for a ride. To escape for just a little while. Snowflakes clung to her dark hair, a sharp contrast between darkest black and brightest, pure white. She shook her head, ran a hand through her hair. Nearing the stables she looked back. A gust of wind pulled at her clothes, played with her cloak, making it billow out behind her. The chill crept through even the tunic comprised of heavy linen and leather trousers. Anyone who had no reason to be outside would well enough stay where it was warm.. But there was a man, standing upon the Battlements, as if to spite the cold. She tossed her head again, and entered the stables to see if the horse she had ridden before was free.
Lord Valerik - Peacebringer... hung, unattended from his hip, the ancient weapon of the knighthood his constant companion since Bedwyr had bestowed it upon him to bare. What hands had held that sword, since the time of its forging. Dain Magnus... Ethan Bedwyr..... Valerik could not, help but as always feel undeserving. It was a difficult thing... he could not deny the fact that he wished now, to take over the reigns where Bedwyr had left them, but... for what purpose? He was convinced it was not for any self reasoning. Indeed, this most recent promotion threw into relief .. more so than ever before his estrangement with his wife Elizabeth. He had hardly spoken with the woman since his return, and yet... they had remained loyal to their vows.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Lord Ellinghad gritted his teeth together as the wind whipped against him, the cold crooning a coo in his ear. Shifting, the Lord of Shields strode towards the tower and descended into the courtyard, his cloak frayed with a flush of snow. He came into the courtyard, his brilliant eyes shimmering like the twin stars of the east. For Liam had found his faith, and nothing would ever break his devotion to the Kings of the Sky…
Squire Blayne stopped one of the few people that milled around on an errand or such, asking for Valerik's whereabouts. Only causing her to frown when she was met with the same answer of not knowing. He had sent her to deliver a message, and had just returned late last night missing the chaos of the previous night. She had heard of him keeping to himself in his chambers, and had not disturbed his meetings. But knew he was probably expecting her report back in. Her boots clipped upon the floor as she continued on towards his chambers. Blayne had hoped for an easy journey to her distnation then back again, but a few unexpected delays made it longer than it should have taken. And returned empty handed, for no message was given back but a few whispered words. Perhaps it was safer that way, no letter to lose or worry upon. She knew not the contents of the one she delivered which made what she was to say confusing.
Lord Valerik - Valeirk turned and moved to stride into the interior of the keep. His booted foot falls, soon joined by a pair of armored figures. One of them, Sir Eoran ... a Knight of the Crown, and yet his almost constant companion in the field. Eoran and Valerik shared a few moments of whispered conversation at they walked, though what ever was said remained wholly between the two, and then Eoran and the other dropped off, peeling away down a fork in the corridor. Valerik himself continued onward, moving towards the chamber he had been nestled in for the past day. He intended only to pick up a few belongings before making his way back out and down to the kitchens in order to find some sort of food, having not eaten for quite some time.
Squire Curiel heard the joyous clamor of Pelleas' return and smiled. He would be a harbinger of good news at least. In the stall, she greeted the russet gelding with a friendly pat on the neck. He stomped a hoof into the straw, but did not oppose her caresses nor the quick grooming before saddle and bit. She should be there to greet the returning host at the gate, she knew it was decorum, and she did want to hear of the news the men might bring. But there was a vast field that enticed her. And the horse seemed welcome to the idea of a bit of exercise as well. Curiel took the reins in hand, led the horse out of his stall and along the length of the stable to the doors. She would leave out the Eastern gate and ride south to the Solanthus Plains. Already she could feel the cold hair bitter on her face and hands.. No, she really did not want her hands to be chapped and wind burned. She pulled on a pair of leather gloves, and brought up the hood of her cloak before making to mount her horse.
Sir Pelleas: The columns of knights filter through the gates with a flutter and flash of vibrant banners and colorful tabards; and the ever-shining platemail that Solamnic Knights were known for. The West Gate closed behind them and they continued their stride, the hooves biting into the cobbled road that wound about the interior of the Keep. Passing the messhall and barracks, the division continued until they were upon the stables. Many of the horses were put within to warm themselves and feast on hay and salt. Pelleas lingered, stroking Tundarath's neck, even as the other knights milled away to fulfill their duties. The great brown barded warhorse was eventually led into the special stall that served as his own. The High Clerist freed him of his burdensome saddle, and the coat of horse mail beneath, small plates of steel, almost like scales, falling over the beast's neck, shoulders and haunches. After the equipment was stowed away, Pelleas tore his helm from his neck and breathed deep the fresh air once more, having had his fill of the stale smell of breath on metal. A carrot was proffered to his horse, who gobbled it up without trepidation, and then the knight bid his mount farewell and turned to wander the grounds.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s stride was strong and powerful, armor rustling and screaming with each cold step. He hated the cold. For years had he battled along the borders of Neraka, in the desert dunes and the baked stretches of earth. His heart had warmed to the dead plains, to the endless skies of blue and earths of gold. How long has it been…since I last rode across the endless waste of the world, battling the darkness of Neraka?… too long. Too long. His eyes lifted towards the coming of Pelleas, and within seconds his light voice rose against the winds. “Lord Pelleas…I must speak with you.”
Squire Blayne stopped as she reached the door, raising her hand to knock. Hesitating for a moment to see if she could hear the murmur of voices. Which made her shake her head at the stupidity, it was thick solid wood very little sound would make it through unless they were yelling. So she knocked lightly at first waiting for the grant of entrance. She shuffled her feet raising her hand to knock once more when she heard the sounds of someone approaching. Turning curiously blinked as the figure of Lord Valerik emerged, bowing lightly to him straightened as she said "My Lord Valerik." her voice quiet as she hated teh echo that seemed to create everything louder from the stone walls.
Sir Pelleas: A stiff turn took him towards Lord Ellinghad, and Pelleas clapped a gauntlet on the man's shoulder. "Aye? Then come, walk with me, and enjoy the beauty of the day." He cast a glance upward into the stormy brew of slate and ashen gray, and the sun that battled to reveal itself beyond. The winter weather was taking a turn for the worse, but Pelleas loved Solanthus - every plain, every rocky crag and mountain, every thick forest, deciduous and coniferous. Every hilltop and all the streams wound their way to his heart. "Land of the high endeavor, land of the shining river! Land of my heart, forever, Solanthus Hàrein!" The smile grew upon his face, even in the bitter wind that bent and moved his short black hair with every gale. "What would you speak to me about, Sir Liam?"
Lord Valerik - Valerik drew to a halt when he noticed the figure of Blayne in the corridor, his arms unfolding, and left hand rising in order to draw back the fold of the draping red coat... so that he might rest his limb upon the pommel of Peacebringer rather casually. Nodding to the young squire's bow, Valerik kept his expression neutral, "Greetings, Blayne...You have been much delayed. Have you any news?"
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s eyes were so very blue, so beautifully big and blue. For minutes he did not speak, his stride crashing against the cobbled earth alongside Pelleas. Fog fell from him, as he spoke at last “I have been ill…I have been blind to my Lord of the White. He has given me life once more when the breath of death was upon me… and nothing I can do will ever right what was wronged. Too long have I been ill…
and though my efforts will never reach the ends, I must try. I beg leave of you… assign me the Southern Pass. I cannot linger any longer and do naught..” His face lay open with a thousand scars, some that tore viciously down into his neck. For the days in the desert had burned him, the arrows of the darkness cut him. He scratched at his blonde beard of habit, his eyes intent upon Pelleas. Hooked gauntlets clenched and unclenched, a halo of colors spraying off the steel.
Squire Blayne flushed slightly "Yes I am sorry for that, many expected delays. Especially in the shift of weather, I do apologize. Though news I do have, if small it is." Biting upon her bottom lip momentarily, before releasing it quickly. A habit of hers as was biting her nails, though she fought to control it. Pulling her hands behind her back to clasp there away from temptation. She wasn't sure if wanted her report here in the hallway, so looked to him curiously waiting to either speak or wait.
Sir Pelleas: The eyes of the High Clerist were a sharp contrast to Liam's own - blue as well, but much darker and dim, like cold steel washed free of the forge and polished for the first time, rather than the endless topaz. A gauntlet lifted and his index finer groomed the sides of his obsidian mustache, contemplating this strange but admirable request. "Ah! Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Solamnic skies! I commend your courage, but the fact is, brother, 'twould be suicide. The southern borders are infested - greenskin raiders and Wild Men from northern Ayenee. Barbarians all, whether they be goblin, orc or man. We've lost a bastion already, and I do not think it would be wise to send you on your lonesome. Nay, thou must keep your patience, just for a little more. I make ready a battle plan, and I shall ride to the south with an army of knights soon enough. You shall accompany me then, but not now - not until the knighting ceremonies are complete, and the ugly storm that blemishes the sky passes us over. Only then will I reveal my plan to the Grand Master and we will take leave of this cage for battle and glory."
Squire Curiel She felt the overwhelming need to think, away from distractions, in a wide open place. Though above all she preferred the lofty enclosure of an ancient forest, the Solanthus Plains were better than being cloistered among stone. At the Eastern Gate she called out to the gateman who allowed her passage, opening the way for her. Curiel smiled her thanks and spurred the horse to a brisk trot which, well clear of the gates, became a rolling canter at her command. Though damn cold, the air was fresh, cleared her head and allowed for thoughts to be sifted through, organized upon the tables of her mind. Foremost was the vote for her Knighthood. She rode along the eastern outer wall, her eyes forward at the plains that stretched before her with infinite possibility.
Sir Pelleas: and I shall ride to the south with an army of knights soon enough. You shall accompany me then, but not now - not until the knighting ceremonies are complete, and the ugly storm that blemishes the sky passes us over. Only then will I reveal my plan to the Grand Master and we will take leave of this cage for battle and glory."
Lord Valerik - Valerik hesitated a moment when Blayned reported that she did indeed have news. The look that he gave her, was one that seemed almost questioning. Then, the Lord Knight moved to open the door to the chamber and motion her inside behind him. "Come then, let us hear what you have to say... but in private." Valerik's eyes creased at the corners, perhaps a hint of the worry that plagued him readable upon his features. He seemed to have aged much over night.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s viciously shook his head, before in a whisper he spoke “No…no, my Lord, that will not do. I cannot wait any longer. I must not…for my heart bleeds with each tear of our Lord. Reconsider it, I beg of you, I have men. Let me lead the vanguard..” His eyes never left Pelleas’, more beautiful than those of a child, filled the rage of a Lord. “…I will never know why I live still…but I’ll not waste it sitting here… I must leave..
Sir Pelleas: Pelleas grimaced and sighed. The request was so insane, so fearless, so utterly stupid - how could you not love the man? "I loth the fact that I can not ride out now as well. But I must see the commitments through; fair Curiel is to be knighted by my hand, and preparations are still to be made. The men you lead will stand no chance against the rabble in the south. The latest reports number the Orcish horde at 20,000 strong, not including goblins and Evil Men. I fear as well that there are Knights of the Lily leading them, for it would take strategies and leadership that the barbarians do not have to regiment them so. Also ... Neralicus and Nesentra have reappeared in the Sutherlands. I was convinced that both were felled and buried, but it is not so with evil, for it never rests.
Sir Pelleas: Yet, if you must go, and you can not find any patience or will to hold you here, I will assign you leave. But hearken here, Liam Lord of Shields, 'tis certain death and doom that awaits you in the south, not glory or valor."
Squire Curiel Like the mists that unfurled before her as she rode on, what had haunted her, the nagging voice that had kept her from sleep became clear. Had he been right? To doubt her readiness. Lord knows she doubted herself too often, a weakness that would very likely be her undoing. Yet, it irked her to have heard someone else voice her very qualms, when she should have done so herself. But she had not. For so many reasons. For the face that smiled at her in her dreams, haunting her during the still hours of the night. The hours she had no voice to scream. For what she had left behind. Honor, the strength to protect those she loved, to overcome the inherent fears that would stop her. Those were the things what she sought. Becoming a knight was the path to those desires. Yet.. She brought the horse to a halt atop a small knoll, and sat up in the saddle, twisting to look back at the keep, faintly outlined through the mist. She should return.. and prepare herself to leave. Soon. She had to find her own way to gain Honor. She had to make herself worthy. Curiel reached down, smoothing her gloved hand over the horse's muscular neck before turning him about and setting off at a gallop, back towards the Fort.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s lips broke into a great grin. His eyes were bright and brimming with tongues of madness. With shoulders rolled back, he spoke firmly “I’ll take but volunteers…I would leave upon the morrow at the first spark of the sun’s flame.” Liam’s heart thundered in the cage of his chest, battering like the drums of war that would be upon the morrow. The morrow, when all would be well, and the eve when all would be but blood and
Squire Blayne nodded, entering afore him. Her eyes glancing around the chamber briefly before turning once more to face him. She noticed that he looked older, more burdened with troubles perhaps. Not wishing to pry gave her news, "I actually delivered your message with quickness that I did not have in returning. For that I apologize once more, Lady Elizabeth bade me to tell you that she shall pray for your safe return." Then fell silent because that was truly all Elizabeth said, at least for his ears. "I'm sorry that's all I have to report, but Lady Elizabeth is also in good health despite the weather and it's fickleness"
Lord Valerik - Valerik nodded then... thoughtful. Elizabeth was well then, and wished for his safe return. However, Valerik could sense there was something else, perhaps in the shortness of her reply, or the mannerism of the young female squire before him. Several fears struck a chord within his mind, though he did not voice them. "That was all? She said nothing else then...?" It was obvious that the man was probing her. He did not care, nor did he really have the energy for subtle interrogation.
Squire Blayne was really hoping he wouldn't ask that, she hated lying. Lying was bad, but so was betraying a confidence. Torn, she gave her half-truth "No, my lord she had nothing else to tell you and did not wish to burden my quick return with a reply. But would send one out to you with one of her own." This way she did not feel as if she was lying, because it was all true. Thus her calm and cool nature in her response nothing to betray there was more than that was said. "Shall I send you up some lunch my lord? I was told that you have not been down to break your fast or for the midday."
Lord Valerik - Valerik nodded to Blayne's response... suddenly sure, Elizabeth had quite a few things to say. Simply not to him. What was he to do though, other than bare the scorn of his wife in silent stoicism. Perhaps, if he could see her... speak to her face to face. He still dreamed that one day they might bridge the ever widening gap that had split them apart, and yet... in the back of his mind he also somehow felt as if that were merely a pipe dream. With a sigh, and then a forced smile, he set a hand on the side of Blayne's shoulder. "Thank you for delivering the messages, Blayne. I much appreciate it. Go and find yourself some food and rest, I will make due on my own." Then, he was opening the door for the young female squire ... motioning her back out of the chamber.
Sir Pelleas: The High Clerist nodded with grim countenence and braced his forearm to his chest. "Hail, Liam Ellinghad, Lord of Shields! I give you leave to go but not 'ere the morrow, for you must take ample time to rest and make sure your greivous wound is healed. Also, preparations are to be made- I will give you a vanguard of 500 men, but no more can I spare, for only nine hundred man the keep, and I will have to send to Vingaard for reinforcements. Should death wait you in the south, go happily with glory into Paladine's Swift Sure Hand!" He turned thence, and made haste to the Cathedral. "I go to prepare for Lady Curiel's knighting ceremony. If you need anything more, you will find me in prayer. Should young Nìmeryn make herself visible, direct her to the Cathedral, for she needs to pay homage to Kiri-Jolith, Habbakuk and their father the Most Esteemed Paladine, the Great Dragon, ere she becomes a knight of this realm!"
Squire Blayne nodded, "I have eaten and rested, I got in late last night. I think I might just go for a walk, I love the snow." Taking her retreat from him, with a swift bow clasped the doorknob, turning it as she walked out. Feeling slightly guilty for lying to her lord, but Elizabeth she had known since girlhood. Some ties where tighter, and old habits died hard. Too many secrets they had kept, but this one secret she wished to tell him. But did not. Walking back the way she came through the hallway to take her cloak before continuing outdoors. After being outside for many days found she preferred it to being surrounded by so many walls.
Sir Pelleas: As he walked, he muttered beneath his breath, "Long will the bards of Solamnia sing of Liam the Brave, and his wasteful death at the hands of the hordes..."
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown The snow dripped heavily from the sky, falling in sheets of white. He stayed in the courtyard as the snow cut down about him, kissing him, holding him in it’s cold clutch. Liam grinned, is eyes aflame with a thousand suns (bcoz they’re pretty). From the halls an old chivalric man-at-arms came, a man that had served Liam’s father as he did him now. In him festered the same madness, the lust for battle and blood. For with the fall of Caergoth, they were but shells of war. “..assemble my men, Gorald, for like a serpent of steel we march south within the days.”
Squire Curiel Rode back, the strong wind doing nothing to hinder the horse's spirit or speed. She sat low in the saddle, her hood ripped back from her face which was rosy from the cold and wind. They arrived the way they had left, through the Eastern Gate. Curiel walked the horse inside the main gate and to the stables, its coat damp and darkened with sweat and the falling snow. She dismounted outside the stables, shaking the snow from her clothing, and led the horse in to rub it down and return it to its stall, hopefully better for the exercise. The squire herself felt improved for the ride, her mind clearer, knowing truly her heart's desires and the path she must take. She held her head a little higher, emboldened by this knowledge, some of her qualms assuaged.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown the clatter of hooves broke Liam from his spell of madness. He found Curiel entering the stable, and waited for her outside where the clouds bled a bitter snow. He stood still as stone, a mist slipping dimly from his lips. His mind was at work, feverish with the play of war. the morrow…the morrow shall see you shine, my Lord…the morrow shall see the march of your servants. He grinned, and softly recited the old words he had spoken at the fall of Caergoth. He spoke his poem of prayers
“He who is mine God is mine Father. He who protects the weak is my Shield, and I am his palm that wields the Sword of the Sky…shout, my men, shout…for here we stand.”
Therian; Squire of the Crown He had read much in the book and now rose from his seat to put it back on the shelf where he'd found. Aesthetics and the like, he did not ask for help or information as to where to put the book back. he simply remembered. He was good at remembering where things went, to him, that was one of his better abilities. Placing the book back upon the shelf for study of another day, he departed form the chapel with a brisk pace. This further lead him into the chapel, which he also departed from rather quickly. It was time for him to practice with the weaponry he had acquired from the armourer. These items were within the trunk that had been so graciously provided to the squire. His pace, swift as it was, lead him to the barracks in little time. He greeted the sentries outside with a nod then
Squire Curiel "Such rousing words.." the young woman said softly, emerging from within the stable to catch the last bit of Liam's poem. She dipped her head in a bow to the Lord, but when her eyes beheld his face again, she knit her dark brows. The paleness of his skin seemed to bespeak of some fever. "It is bitterly cold, my Lord. What would bring you out in the snow, having recently been wounded?" Curiel's pale eyes glanced down towards Liam's torso, as if expecting to see the crimson stain growing there once again.. the imagine a horrible imprint upon her mind. "Mm.. Beg your pardon.. I spoke out of turn.."
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam but smiled as a child smile. The bearded knight shrugged, a shudder of snow falling from his shoulders. “I have been given leave, good Curiel…whether I shall stand at your knighting I do not know…but know you have my congratulations. ‘Fore I forget, the High Clerist would have you be in the Chapel…”
Squire Curiel "Oh.." She intoned quietly; it was painfully blatant she was at a loss for words. The stinging cold was forgotten, though snow gathered on the shoulders of her cloak, stuck like tiny stars in the darkness of her hair, the blinding whiteness surrounding them seeming to cast a shadow her eyes. Curiel wet her lips, brought herself out of the speechless trance. "You will be missed.. but whither do you go?" Just a few moments longer, than she would hasten to the Chapel.. She knew she must not keep Lord Pelleas waiting long.
Therian; Squire of the Crown entered. His room wasn't far. After what was a hop and a skip, he entered his room, and then, furthermore, opened his trunk where he would retrieve some of his possessions. Removing from the wooden container all of his plate armor, his rusty old chain shirt he had brought with him into Solamnia, the padded armor he had brought with him to Solamnia, a metal helmet with the traditional Solamnic horns, though they were quite short as his rank was low, the scabbard he had been given at the armory, complete with a sword, and then a belt from which to hold this scabbard. These were all laid out on his bed, a luxury he wasn't used to. Noting this luxury, he would begin to dress himself with the said items. First was the padded armor, which he pulled snugly over his new clothing, and then there was his old chain-shirt which was large enough to fit over the padded armor. After he was dressed with the first layer, he would put on his belt and then chain-mail chausses. The undercoat of mail was done and only 5 minutes of his time had been used up. Next was the plate mail. He would hoist the breast plate above his head, as it was small for he as not a big man, and then he would lower it over his head, the back-plate parting from the front plate at the bottom as the latches were undone. The metal armor would fit snugly over the chain and padded armor and the bulk of its weight would come to rest on Therian's shoulders, his arms having now gone through the sleeve hole. Reaching down and fastening the latches on the breast plate, the next step was putting on all the other plates and guards provided. He would do these slowly as he was unfamiliar with all the gadgetry of plate mail. This would take another 30 minutes. Finally, after his armor was on and fastened properly, he picked up his scabbard, loosened the strap to the point of undoing, and then fastened it back onto the belt. There was only one thing left to do. He picked up the helmet and placed it atop his head, making sure it fit properly. It did. Closing the chest, though not locking it as no one here would steal from anyone, he exited the barracks. From here, he would turn to one of the guards and then enquire.. " Where would I find the training grounds? "
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam watched Curiel curiously. From the heavens they were showered with snow, falling like petals from the sky. His face broken into another smile, as with a hearty laugh he said “With a heart as pure as love do I go, into the land of sorrow and woe! To death, to death and glory…I ride to the Southern Pass…now do not tarry, you’ve much to do.” Liam reached out, brushing the tiny stars of snow from Curiel’s shoulders. “Find the High Clerist quickly, and listen to him intently.” Liam stepped back, smiled, and left for the barracks.
Lord Valerik had found his way into the chapel... was waiting there.
Squire Blayne :noticed that a few people where heading to the chapel, so out of curiousity found her towards the building and inside.
Squire Curiel 's eyes followed Liam's retreat until he disappeared around the corner of the stable, off to.. what sounded like his doom. And he seemed to welcome it. Had the man a death wish? She blinked and saw the disquieting hue of his brilliant eyes. It was printed on her mind's eye. Never mind that. She wrapped the folds of her cloak about her tighter, ignoring the phantom of a light touch she felt on her shoulder, and raced to the chapel, sprinting across the courtyard. Curiel slowed as she reached the chapel and entered with a sedate gait, searching for Lord Pelleas.
Ok, this next Out of Character part is not for virgin eyes. Mmk?
Lord Valerik . o O ( I'm so sick of liam and curiel flirting. )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( lol )
Squire Curiel . o O ( Omg, that's not even close to flirting. )
Lord Valerik . o O ( to a solamnic, that might as well be having sex. )
Lord Valerik . o O ( *flex at post that's going to come up* )
Sir Pelleas . o O ( lord_valerik_uth_vingaard: can I fuck her lord_valerik_uth_vingaard: for initiation then? )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( omg u should be ashamed )
Lord Valerik . o O ( yea, I r0x )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( ur so blunt )
Lord Valerik . o O ( IC PLZ )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( kk )
Sir Pelleas: lord_valerik_uth_vingaard: so we can make it an official solamnic gang bang.
Yeah, the boys are sick.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown The bright day had become dark. Clouds covered the sky and hung pregnant with white snow. Barren was the earth and dead the forests, for nothing stirred. Nothing breathed. A thick fog swept like the black oceans into the land…and all became but shadows. The winds gently wailed, and from the heavens fell snow. A snow so impossibly white, shimmering so pure, so innocent and frail. It fell softer than love to the earth, carried in the whispers of the wind. A shroud of fog came thick and sudden from the frosted forests, gently enveloping the Fort of Solanthus. All was white this day, and the world was good…
Therian; Squire of the Crown He sat in a wooden chair, leaned over a small table, his elbows propped against the wooden counter and a ninety degree angle so that the book his hands held was near enough to read well. He was studying the oath and the measure as was his duty as a squire of the Solamnic knighthood. He had changed into much more comfortable clothing given to him at the armory. Un-dyed cloth, a grayish white, comprised the tunic and jerkins. the cloth, though thick to protect form the cold, was much more comfortable than Therian's riding leathers, ragged tabard, and rusty ole chain mail he had worn here. The measure, as he had found from his studies, was the laws of chivalry the Solamnic Knights followed. It provided a squire whom followed it with discipline and brought those knights who followed it honor. Of course, all knights and squires did follow it.. At least those of the Solamnic order, or they wouldn’t have been knights of Solamnia. It interested him, and he further delved into this book. He would later read such articles of honor that explained that a knight shouldn't attack another unarmed man, should defend the innocent, and a knight captured by another knight should be treated with the same respect one would treat his family with. He knew some of this, but still. It was nice to know, a lot of other knightly codes were similar to this one.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam stood upon the battlements, his ravaged face raised to the white sky. He watched the flakes fall from heaven to earth, dancing beautifully in each gust of wind. The young knight lay coiled under heaving shells of plate and steel, a great black cloak of bear fur wrung about him. From his chin and cheeks a closely cropped beard grew as golden as the sun. His skin was inhumanly white, his eyes horridly blue. So very blue…
Squire Blayne shivered lightly from the crisp wind that swept up behind her, small flakes fell softly on her lashes and nose. She loved snow, it was almost calming as it fell. Wrinkling her nose as she looked up at the darken fluffy clouds, her eyes rapidly blinking as flakes fell into them. The wool cloak that surrounded her form danced upon the winds, like a jig only they knew the rhythm to. She pulled it closer to her chest as her skin prickled with Goosebumps causing a series of shutters. She blew out a small sigh of content, her breath seen as it moved path. Blayne could stay where she was for several more minutes but figured she should locate the Lord Valerik. Shaking away thoughts, turned upon her heel back towards the keep. Upon entering she shook off the lasting moisture from her cloak, her fingers combing back locks that had fallen once more in her face.
Sir Pelleas: At current the High Clerist was abound, riding to his heart's content on the flat plains of Solanthus, the Fields Têranhir. The knightly contingent that rode with him was composed of twenty Sword Knights, good men and true, and sharp swords all. They galloped across the plain in a column of two, ten knights on either side. Pelleas rode at the forefront, leading over Tundarath, gauntlets tight about the reins. The bitter winds whipped their faces with snow and chill, yet the visors of their helms protected their eyes. Beside him rode Sir Goran Whitehall, who had proved himself on many missions, and recently lost his best friend, Téydor Dolaar, to the great dragon Semõrig the Vile. Behind them rode a standard bearer, who lofted high the banner of Solamnia, and beside him a Trumpeter.
Lord Valerik - Lord Valerik had retired after the previous night's events and had not shown himself since then... locked away within a private chamber, apparently delving through several meetings in a row. Including more than a few with Sir Pelleas, and Sir Lucan. The newly elected Grand Master- Pro Tempore had been for all his secrecy a buzz of activity within the keep. It was only now, a full day after that Valerik poked his head from hiding. The knight strode languidly down one off of the inner keep, his arms folded behind his back a long red coat, heavily embroidered with gold inlay shrouding his other clothing. He appeared to be deep in thought.
Sir Pelleas: The lances and spears of the small division stabbed up into the sky, a miniature forest of ashwood, and their bright spearheads glinted when the sun permeated the shield of grey above. All flew banners, but of slightly smaller size than the one carried by the Standard Bearer. Hooves thundered upon the plate, clattering against rock and turf, and kicking up the thin, cracked layer of snow and frost that paralyzed the dying grass. "Solanthus ahead! Raise your banners and your spirits, men!" The gatemen ahead were roused by the trumpeter's brazen call, and answered with their own battlehorns. By the time the High Clerist reached the gate, it was drawn open and they were received with the loud acclaim of the Men-at-arms, who cheered and clattered sword against shield.
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam lowered his gaze from the skies to the endless wash of white fields. There, in the white world he spotted the Pelleas’ contingent. But for a minute he watched them, listening to the hooves that viciously broke the earth and send a spray of snow into the wind. The sound of boots grating on granite and snow slapped him. Liam’s gaze tore along the walls, until in the thick of snow he saw Valerik pacing. The Lord of Shields stood, and did naught but watch…
Squire Curiel The beauty of nature was ambivalent that day; the cold a curse, but the brilliance of each crystal snowflake desperately tried to swallow the gloom. She did not like when the sky hung so heavy, pressing down upon the earth in a blight of gray dreariness. It seemed to shroud her, try to surround her until she felt the very air was shrinking about her, enclosing her in the oppressive mists. No, she would think like that. Not today. Not again. Curiel left the shadows to dance on the walls. She left the hall and crossed the courtyard, still fastening the dark cloak about her shoulders. There had been no word of orders for her, of any duties she was to perform. And it seemed there was time enough for a ride. To escape for just a little while. Snowflakes clung to her dark hair, a sharp contrast between darkest black and brightest, pure white. She shook her head, ran a hand through her hair. Nearing the stables she looked back. A gust of wind pulled at her clothes, played with her cloak, making it billow out behind her. The chill crept through even the tunic comprised of heavy linen and leather trousers. Anyone who had no reason to be outside would well enough stay where it was warm.. But there was a man, standing upon the Battlements, as if to spite the cold. She tossed her head again, and entered the stables to see if the horse she had ridden before was free.
Lord Valerik - Peacebringer... hung, unattended from his hip, the ancient weapon of the knighthood his constant companion since Bedwyr had bestowed it upon him to bare. What hands had held that sword, since the time of its forging. Dain Magnus... Ethan Bedwyr..... Valerik could not, help but as always feel undeserving. It was a difficult thing... he could not deny the fact that he wished now, to take over the reigns where Bedwyr had left them, but... for what purpose? He was convinced it was not for any self reasoning. Indeed, this most recent promotion threw into relief .. more so than ever before his estrangement with his wife Elizabeth. He had hardly spoken with the woman since his return, and yet... they had remained loyal to their vows.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Lord Ellinghad gritted his teeth together as the wind whipped against him, the cold crooning a coo in his ear. Shifting, the Lord of Shields strode towards the tower and descended into the courtyard, his cloak frayed with a flush of snow. He came into the courtyard, his brilliant eyes shimmering like the twin stars of the east. For Liam had found his faith, and nothing would ever break his devotion to the Kings of the Sky…
Squire Blayne stopped one of the few people that milled around on an errand or such, asking for Valerik's whereabouts. Only causing her to frown when she was met with the same answer of not knowing. He had sent her to deliver a message, and had just returned late last night missing the chaos of the previous night. She had heard of him keeping to himself in his chambers, and had not disturbed his meetings. But knew he was probably expecting her report back in. Her boots clipped upon the floor as she continued on towards his chambers. Blayne had hoped for an easy journey to her distnation then back again, but a few unexpected delays made it longer than it should have taken. And returned empty handed, for no message was given back but a few whispered words. Perhaps it was safer that way, no letter to lose or worry upon. She knew not the contents of the one she delivered which made what she was to say confusing.
Lord Valerik - Valeirk turned and moved to stride into the interior of the keep. His booted foot falls, soon joined by a pair of armored figures. One of them, Sir Eoran ... a Knight of the Crown, and yet his almost constant companion in the field. Eoran and Valerik shared a few moments of whispered conversation at they walked, though what ever was said remained wholly between the two, and then Eoran and the other dropped off, peeling away down a fork in the corridor. Valerik himself continued onward, moving towards the chamber he had been nestled in for the past day. He intended only to pick up a few belongings before making his way back out and down to the kitchens in order to find some sort of food, having not eaten for quite some time.
Squire Curiel heard the joyous clamor of Pelleas' return and smiled. He would be a harbinger of good news at least. In the stall, she greeted the russet gelding with a friendly pat on the neck. He stomped a hoof into the straw, but did not oppose her caresses nor the quick grooming before saddle and bit. She should be there to greet the returning host at the gate, she knew it was decorum, and she did want to hear of the news the men might bring. But there was a vast field that enticed her. And the horse seemed welcome to the idea of a bit of exercise as well. Curiel took the reins in hand, led the horse out of his stall and along the length of the stable to the doors. She would leave out the Eastern gate and ride south to the Solanthus Plains. Already she could feel the cold hair bitter on her face and hands.. No, she really did not want her hands to be chapped and wind burned. She pulled on a pair of leather gloves, and brought up the hood of her cloak before making to mount her horse.
Sir Pelleas: The columns of knights filter through the gates with a flutter and flash of vibrant banners and colorful tabards; and the ever-shining platemail that Solamnic Knights were known for. The West Gate closed behind them and they continued their stride, the hooves biting into the cobbled road that wound about the interior of the Keep. Passing the messhall and barracks, the division continued until they were upon the stables. Many of the horses were put within to warm themselves and feast on hay and salt. Pelleas lingered, stroking Tundarath's neck, even as the other knights milled away to fulfill their duties. The great brown barded warhorse was eventually led into the special stall that served as his own. The High Clerist freed him of his burdensome saddle, and the coat of horse mail beneath, small plates of steel, almost like scales, falling over the beast's neck, shoulders and haunches. After the equipment was stowed away, Pelleas tore his helm from his neck and breathed deep the fresh air once more, having had his fill of the stale smell of breath on metal. A carrot was proffered to his horse, who gobbled it up without trepidation, and then the knight bid his mount farewell and turned to wander the grounds.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s stride was strong and powerful, armor rustling and screaming with each cold step. He hated the cold. For years had he battled along the borders of Neraka, in the desert dunes and the baked stretches of earth. His heart had warmed to the dead plains, to the endless skies of blue and earths of gold. How long has it been…since I last rode across the endless waste of the world, battling the darkness of Neraka?… too long. Too long. His eyes lifted towards the coming of Pelleas, and within seconds his light voice rose against the winds. “Lord Pelleas…I must speak with you.”
Squire Blayne stopped as she reached the door, raising her hand to knock. Hesitating for a moment to see if she could hear the murmur of voices. Which made her shake her head at the stupidity, it was thick solid wood very little sound would make it through unless they were yelling. So she knocked lightly at first waiting for the grant of entrance. She shuffled her feet raising her hand to knock once more when she heard the sounds of someone approaching. Turning curiously blinked as the figure of Lord Valerik emerged, bowing lightly to him straightened as she said "My Lord Valerik." her voice quiet as she hated teh echo that seemed to create everything louder from the stone walls.
Sir Pelleas: A stiff turn took him towards Lord Ellinghad, and Pelleas clapped a gauntlet on the man's shoulder. "Aye? Then come, walk with me, and enjoy the beauty of the day." He cast a glance upward into the stormy brew of slate and ashen gray, and the sun that battled to reveal itself beyond. The winter weather was taking a turn for the worse, but Pelleas loved Solanthus - every plain, every rocky crag and mountain, every thick forest, deciduous and coniferous. Every hilltop and all the streams wound their way to his heart. "Land of the high endeavor, land of the shining river! Land of my heart, forever, Solanthus Hàrein!" The smile grew upon his face, even in the bitter wind that bent and moved his short black hair with every gale. "What would you speak to me about, Sir Liam?"
Lord Valerik - Valerik drew to a halt when he noticed the figure of Blayne in the corridor, his arms unfolding, and left hand rising in order to draw back the fold of the draping red coat... so that he might rest his limb upon the pommel of Peacebringer rather casually. Nodding to the young squire's bow, Valerik kept his expression neutral, "Greetings, Blayne...You have been much delayed. Have you any news?"
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s eyes were so very blue, so beautifully big and blue. For minutes he did not speak, his stride crashing against the cobbled earth alongside Pelleas. Fog fell from him, as he spoke at last “I have been ill…I have been blind to my Lord of the White. He has given me life once more when the breath of death was upon me… and nothing I can do will ever right what was wronged. Too long have I been ill…
and though my efforts will never reach the ends, I must try. I beg leave of you… assign me the Southern Pass. I cannot linger any longer and do naught..” His face lay open with a thousand scars, some that tore viciously down into his neck. For the days in the desert had burned him, the arrows of the darkness cut him. He scratched at his blonde beard of habit, his eyes intent upon Pelleas. Hooked gauntlets clenched and unclenched, a halo of colors spraying off the steel.
Squire Blayne flushed slightly "Yes I am sorry for that, many expected delays. Especially in the shift of weather, I do apologize. Though news I do have, if small it is." Biting upon her bottom lip momentarily, before releasing it quickly. A habit of hers as was biting her nails, though she fought to control it. Pulling her hands behind her back to clasp there away from temptation. She wasn't sure if wanted her report here in the hallway, so looked to him curiously waiting to either speak or wait.
Sir Pelleas: The eyes of the High Clerist were a sharp contrast to Liam's own - blue as well, but much darker and dim, like cold steel washed free of the forge and polished for the first time, rather than the endless topaz. A gauntlet lifted and his index finer groomed the sides of his obsidian mustache, contemplating this strange but admirable request. "Ah! Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Solamnic skies! I commend your courage, but the fact is, brother, 'twould be suicide. The southern borders are infested - greenskin raiders and Wild Men from northern Ayenee. Barbarians all, whether they be goblin, orc or man. We've lost a bastion already, and I do not think it would be wise to send you on your lonesome. Nay, thou must keep your patience, just for a little more. I make ready a battle plan, and I shall ride to the south with an army of knights soon enough. You shall accompany me then, but not now - not until the knighting ceremonies are complete, and the ugly storm that blemishes the sky passes us over. Only then will I reveal my plan to the Grand Master and we will take leave of this cage for battle and glory."
Squire Curiel She felt the overwhelming need to think, away from distractions, in a wide open place. Though above all she preferred the lofty enclosure of an ancient forest, the Solanthus Plains were better than being cloistered among stone. At the Eastern Gate she called out to the gateman who allowed her passage, opening the way for her. Curiel smiled her thanks and spurred the horse to a brisk trot which, well clear of the gates, became a rolling canter at her command. Though damn cold, the air was fresh, cleared her head and allowed for thoughts to be sifted through, organized upon the tables of her mind. Foremost was the vote for her Knighthood. She rode along the eastern outer wall, her eyes forward at the plains that stretched before her with infinite possibility.
Sir Pelleas: and I shall ride to the south with an army of knights soon enough. You shall accompany me then, but not now - not until the knighting ceremonies are complete, and the ugly storm that blemishes the sky passes us over. Only then will I reveal my plan to the Grand Master and we will take leave of this cage for battle and glory."
Lord Valerik - Valerik hesitated a moment when Blayned reported that she did indeed have news. The look that he gave her, was one that seemed almost questioning. Then, the Lord Knight moved to open the door to the chamber and motion her inside behind him. "Come then, let us hear what you have to say... but in private." Valerik's eyes creased at the corners, perhaps a hint of the worry that plagued him readable upon his features. He seemed to have aged much over night.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s viciously shook his head, before in a whisper he spoke “No…no, my Lord, that will not do. I cannot wait any longer. I must not…for my heart bleeds with each tear of our Lord. Reconsider it, I beg of you, I have men. Let me lead the vanguard..” His eyes never left Pelleas’, more beautiful than those of a child, filled the rage of a Lord. “…I will never know why I live still…but I’ll not waste it sitting here… I must leave..
Sir Pelleas: Pelleas grimaced and sighed. The request was so insane, so fearless, so utterly stupid - how could you not love the man? "I loth the fact that I can not ride out now as well. But I must see the commitments through; fair Curiel is to be knighted by my hand, and preparations are still to be made. The men you lead will stand no chance against the rabble in the south. The latest reports number the Orcish horde at 20,000 strong, not including goblins and Evil Men. I fear as well that there are Knights of the Lily leading them, for it would take strategies and leadership that the barbarians do not have to regiment them so. Also ... Neralicus and Nesentra have reappeared in the Sutherlands. I was convinced that both were felled and buried, but it is not so with evil, for it never rests.
Sir Pelleas: Yet, if you must go, and you can not find any patience or will to hold you here, I will assign you leave. But hearken here, Liam Lord of Shields, 'tis certain death and doom that awaits you in the south, not glory or valor."
Squire Curiel Like the mists that unfurled before her as she rode on, what had haunted her, the nagging voice that had kept her from sleep became clear. Had he been right? To doubt her readiness. Lord knows she doubted herself too often, a weakness that would very likely be her undoing. Yet, it irked her to have heard someone else voice her very qualms, when she should have done so herself. But she had not. For so many reasons. For the face that smiled at her in her dreams, haunting her during the still hours of the night. The hours she had no voice to scream. For what she had left behind. Honor, the strength to protect those she loved, to overcome the inherent fears that would stop her. Those were the things what she sought. Becoming a knight was the path to those desires. Yet.. She brought the horse to a halt atop a small knoll, and sat up in the saddle, twisting to look back at the keep, faintly outlined through the mist. She should return.. and prepare herself to leave. Soon. She had to find her own way to gain Honor. She had to make herself worthy. Curiel reached down, smoothing her gloved hand over the horse's muscular neck before turning him about and setting off at a gallop, back towards the Fort.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam’s lips broke into a great grin. His eyes were bright and brimming with tongues of madness. With shoulders rolled back, he spoke firmly “I’ll take but volunteers…I would leave upon the morrow at the first spark of the sun’s flame.” Liam’s heart thundered in the cage of his chest, battering like the drums of war that would be upon the morrow. The morrow, when all would be well, and the eve when all would be but blood and
Squire Blayne nodded, entering afore him. Her eyes glancing around the chamber briefly before turning once more to face him. She noticed that he looked older, more burdened with troubles perhaps. Not wishing to pry gave her news, "I actually delivered your message with quickness that I did not have in returning. For that I apologize once more, Lady Elizabeth bade me to tell you that she shall pray for your safe return." Then fell silent because that was truly all Elizabeth said, at least for his ears. "I'm sorry that's all I have to report, but Lady Elizabeth is also in good health despite the weather and it's fickleness"
Lord Valerik - Valerik nodded then... thoughtful. Elizabeth was well then, and wished for his safe return. However, Valerik could sense there was something else, perhaps in the shortness of her reply, or the mannerism of the young female squire before him. Several fears struck a chord within his mind, though he did not voice them. "That was all? She said nothing else then...?" It was obvious that the man was probing her. He did not care, nor did he really have the energy for subtle interrogation.
Squire Blayne was really hoping he wouldn't ask that, she hated lying. Lying was bad, but so was betraying a confidence. Torn, she gave her half-truth "No, my lord she had nothing else to tell you and did not wish to burden my quick return with a reply. But would send one out to you with one of her own." This way she did not feel as if she was lying, because it was all true. Thus her calm and cool nature in her response nothing to betray there was more than that was said. "Shall I send you up some lunch my lord? I was told that you have not been down to break your fast or for the midday."
Lord Valerik - Valerik nodded to Blayne's response... suddenly sure, Elizabeth had quite a few things to say. Simply not to him. What was he to do though, other than bare the scorn of his wife in silent stoicism. Perhaps, if he could see her... speak to her face to face. He still dreamed that one day they might bridge the ever widening gap that had split them apart, and yet... in the back of his mind he also somehow felt as if that were merely a pipe dream. With a sigh, and then a forced smile, he set a hand on the side of Blayne's shoulder. "Thank you for delivering the messages, Blayne. I much appreciate it. Go and find yourself some food and rest, I will make due on my own." Then, he was opening the door for the young female squire ... motioning her back out of the chamber.
Sir Pelleas: The High Clerist nodded with grim countenence and braced his forearm to his chest. "Hail, Liam Ellinghad, Lord of Shields! I give you leave to go but not 'ere the morrow, for you must take ample time to rest and make sure your greivous wound is healed. Also, preparations are to be made- I will give you a vanguard of 500 men, but no more can I spare, for only nine hundred man the keep, and I will have to send to Vingaard for reinforcements. Should death wait you in the south, go happily with glory into Paladine's Swift Sure Hand!" He turned thence, and made haste to the Cathedral. "I go to prepare for Lady Curiel's knighting ceremony. If you need anything more, you will find me in prayer. Should young Nìmeryn make herself visible, direct her to the Cathedral, for she needs to pay homage to Kiri-Jolith, Habbakuk and their father the Most Esteemed Paladine, the Great Dragon, ere she becomes a knight of this realm!"
Squire Blayne nodded, "I have eaten and rested, I got in late last night. I think I might just go for a walk, I love the snow." Taking her retreat from him, with a swift bow clasped the doorknob, turning it as she walked out. Feeling slightly guilty for lying to her lord, but Elizabeth she had known since girlhood. Some ties where tighter, and old habits died hard. Too many secrets they had kept, but this one secret she wished to tell him. But did not. Walking back the way she came through the hallway to take her cloak before continuing outdoors. After being outside for many days found she preferred it to being surrounded by so many walls.
Sir Pelleas: As he walked, he muttered beneath his breath, "Long will the bards of Solamnia sing of Liam the Brave, and his wasteful death at the hands of the hordes..."
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown The snow dripped heavily from the sky, falling in sheets of white. He stayed in the courtyard as the snow cut down about him, kissing him, holding him in it’s cold clutch. Liam grinned, is eyes aflame with a thousand suns (bcoz they’re pretty). From the halls an old chivalric man-at-arms came, a man that had served Liam’s father as he did him now. In him festered the same madness, the lust for battle and blood. For with the fall of Caergoth, they were but shells of war. “..assemble my men, Gorald, for like a serpent of steel we march south within the days.”
Squire Curiel Rode back, the strong wind doing nothing to hinder the horse's spirit or speed. She sat low in the saddle, her hood ripped back from her face which was rosy from the cold and wind. They arrived the way they had left, through the Eastern Gate. Curiel walked the horse inside the main gate and to the stables, its coat damp and darkened with sweat and the falling snow. She dismounted outside the stables, shaking the snow from her clothing, and led the horse in to rub it down and return it to its stall, hopefully better for the exercise. The squire herself felt improved for the ride, her mind clearer, knowing truly her heart's desires and the path she must take. She held her head a little higher, emboldened by this knowledge, some of her qualms assuaged.
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown the clatter of hooves broke Liam from his spell of madness. He found Curiel entering the stable, and waited for her outside where the clouds bled a bitter snow. He stood still as stone, a mist slipping dimly from his lips. His mind was at work, feverish with the play of war. the morrow…the morrow shall see you shine, my Lord…the morrow shall see the march of your servants. He grinned, and softly recited the old words he had spoken at the fall of Caergoth. He spoke his poem of prayers
“He who is mine God is mine Father. He who protects the weak is my Shield, and I am his palm that wields the Sword of the Sky…shout, my men, shout…for here we stand.”
Therian; Squire of the Crown He had read much in the book and now rose from his seat to put it back on the shelf where he'd found. Aesthetics and the like, he did not ask for help or information as to where to put the book back. he simply remembered. He was good at remembering where things went, to him, that was one of his better abilities. Placing the book back upon the shelf for study of another day, he departed form the chapel with a brisk pace. This further lead him into the chapel, which he also departed from rather quickly. It was time for him to practice with the weaponry he had acquired from the armourer. These items were within the trunk that had been so graciously provided to the squire. His pace, swift as it was, lead him to the barracks in little time. He greeted the sentries outside with a nod then
Squire Curiel "Such rousing words.." the young woman said softly, emerging from within the stable to catch the last bit of Liam's poem. She dipped her head in a bow to the Lord, but when her eyes beheld his face again, she knit her dark brows. The paleness of his skin seemed to bespeak of some fever. "It is bitterly cold, my Lord. What would bring you out in the snow, having recently been wounded?" Curiel's pale eyes glanced down towards Liam's torso, as if expecting to see the crimson stain growing there once again.. the imagine a horrible imprint upon her mind. "Mm.. Beg your pardon.. I spoke out of turn.."
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam but smiled as a child smile. The bearded knight shrugged, a shudder of snow falling from his shoulders. “I have been given leave, good Curiel…whether I shall stand at your knighting I do not know…but know you have my congratulations. ‘Fore I forget, the High Clerist would have you be in the Chapel…”
Squire Curiel "Oh.." She intoned quietly; it was painfully blatant she was at a loss for words. The stinging cold was forgotten, though snow gathered on the shoulders of her cloak, stuck like tiny stars in the darkness of her hair, the blinding whiteness surrounding them seeming to cast a shadow her eyes. Curiel wet her lips, brought herself out of the speechless trance. "You will be missed.. but whither do you go?" Just a few moments longer, than she would hasten to the Chapel.. She knew she must not keep Lord Pelleas waiting long.
Therian; Squire of the Crown entered. His room wasn't far. After what was a hop and a skip, he entered his room, and then, furthermore, opened his trunk where he would retrieve some of his possessions. Removing from the wooden container all of his plate armor, his rusty old chain shirt he had brought with him into Solamnia, the padded armor he had brought with him to Solamnia, a metal helmet with the traditional Solamnic horns, though they were quite short as his rank was low, the scabbard he had been given at the armory, complete with a sword, and then a belt from which to hold this scabbard. These were all laid out on his bed, a luxury he wasn't used to. Noting this luxury, he would begin to dress himself with the said items. First was the padded armor, which he pulled snugly over his new clothing, and then there was his old chain-shirt which was large enough to fit over the padded armor. After he was dressed with the first layer, he would put on his belt and then chain-mail chausses. The undercoat of mail was done and only 5 minutes of his time had been used up. Next was the plate mail. He would hoist the breast plate above his head, as it was small for he as not a big man, and then he would lower it over his head, the back-plate parting from the front plate at the bottom as the latches were undone. The metal armor would fit snugly over the chain and padded armor and the bulk of its weight would come to rest on Therian's shoulders, his arms having now gone through the sleeve hole. Reaching down and fastening the latches on the breast plate, the next step was putting on all the other plates and guards provided. He would do these slowly as he was unfamiliar with all the gadgetry of plate mail. This would take another 30 minutes. Finally, after his armor was on and fastened properly, he picked up his scabbard, loosened the strap to the point of undoing, and then fastened it back onto the belt. There was only one thing left to do. He picked up the helmet and placed it atop his head, making sure it fit properly. It did. Closing the chest, though not locking it as no one here would steal from anyone, he exited the barracks. From here, he would turn to one of the guards and then enquire.. " Where would I find the training grounds? "
Lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown Liam watched Curiel curiously. From the heavens they were showered with snow, falling like petals from the sky. His face broken into another smile, as with a hearty laugh he said “With a heart as pure as love do I go, into the land of sorrow and woe! To death, to death and glory…I ride to the Southern Pass…now do not tarry, you’ve much to do.” Liam reached out, brushing the tiny stars of snow from Curiel’s shoulders. “Find the High Clerist quickly, and listen to him intently.” Liam stepped back, smiled, and left for the barracks.
Lord Valerik had found his way into the chapel... was waiting there.
Squire Blayne :noticed that a few people where heading to the chapel, so out of curiousity found her towards the building and inside.
Squire Curiel 's eyes followed Liam's retreat until he disappeared around the corner of the stable, off to.. what sounded like his doom. And he seemed to welcome it. Had the man a death wish? She blinked and saw the disquieting hue of his brilliant eyes. It was printed on her mind's eye. Never mind that. She wrapped the folds of her cloak about her tighter, ignoring the phantom of a light touch she felt on her shoulder, and raced to the chapel, sprinting across the courtyard. Curiel slowed as she reached the chapel and entered with a sedate gait, searching for Lord Pelleas.
Ok, this next Out of Character part is not for virgin eyes. Mmk?
Lord Valerik . o O ( I'm so sick of liam and curiel flirting. )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( lol )
Squire Curiel . o O ( Omg, that's not even close to flirting. )
Lord Valerik . o O ( to a solamnic, that might as well be having sex. )
Lord Valerik . o O ( *flex at post that's going to come up* )
Sir Pelleas . o O ( lord_valerik_uth_vingaard: can I fuck her lord_valerik_uth_vingaard: for initiation then? )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( omg u should be ashamed )
Lord Valerik . o O ( yea, I r0x )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( ur so blunt )
Lord Valerik . o O ( IC PLZ )
lord_liam_knight_ofthe_crown . o O ( kk )
Sir Pelleas: lord_valerik_uth_vingaard: so we can make it an official solamnic gang bang.
Yeah, the boys are sick.