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| A Serpent, Coiled; Aniketos | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 1 2017, 08:32 AM (237 Views) | |
| Leofric de Hollemark | Jun 1 2017, 08:32 AM Post #1 |
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Summer, 11AR The sky was clear. Bright hues of summer dyed it a royal blue, with nary a cloud to oppose the regal radiance of the sun. The heat beat down, creating a still sweat even on those idle, and leading all to thoughts of indolence. A road, paved with ancient blocks of granite, snaked between the boughs of the Erth'netora - a route trodden by hundreds of thousands of feet over centuries. Two seasons prior, the labour of the hundreds that had built it was all but obscured by rampant wilderness - weeds between the slabs contrived to uproot it; trees and foliage bulged and loomed to obscure it from view. Now however, the forest had receded, leaving only withered roots and husks. Traces of their temporary dominance remained - loose and shattered slabs like trace scars dotted hither and thither on the route to Madrid. The creeping vines and bulbous trunks had overreached, total dominance outside of their grasp. Atop this path came a din well known to the forest denizens: the creak of wood, the clatter of metal, the whicker of horses and the grunts of oxen. In the van was a century of mounted knights, armed and armoured as if for war, images of beauty and terror etched onto their gilded plate. Their barding and tabards were a panoply of colours and symbols, signifying blood and houses young and old. The more eagle-eyed would discern the arms of the Emperor and the Duchess of Boughs, but only true students of Morrimian heraldry would recognise the arms of the Knight of Crabs. Behind them came a caravan of thirty wagons, four wheeled and pulled by straining teams of oxen. Coverings of white canvas covered their contents, and each driver was accompanied by a hard-eyed man-at-arms, and the train was flanked by mounted squires. Each one cast constant nervous glances into the undergrowth, and their hands were never far from their weapons - though the Fae had been defeated, they had humbled a mighty nation of Soare. An arrow in the throat or chance stab in the confused melee of an ambuscade were not honourable deaths. Following them came three hundred foot, leather brigandines and kettle-helms causing them to sweat in the merciless heat. Their spears, slung over a shoulder, glinted in the light, and they kept an even, if ungainly, march. Drums thudded a beat, crying organisation and order, the supremacy of human discipline against wildness. The march from Kinaldi had been long, but now the capital of the Southern Republic was in sight. As they neared the city, the local Sotoans could do naught but gape - half-starved and weary from war, the sight of Imperial knights caused them to pause in the labours. Some few took off on the road ahead, to raise the hue and cry. By the time the small army reached the reclaimed fields surrounding Madrid, crowds had gathered, fear and anger in their eyes. In the distance lay Madrid, and the Morrimians could see the ruins of the honey locust walls, and the wrecked trunk of what had been the Pale Tree. It dominated the landscape, a broken giant, a shattered symbol of the terror that had choked the country. A bugle blared, and the company came to a grinding halt. Tense moments of silence passed. Would the knights spur their horses and ride down the crowds? Would the Sotoans know again the din of battle, the copper smell of blood? The ranks shifted, horses whinnying, and opened. A single figure, clad in crimson, rode forth. Atop his head was an iron crown, around his shoulders white ermine. Atop it glittered a wondrous chain of office. The bugle blared again, and the figure spoke. "Sotoans, fear not! The Imperator has arrived." he announced loudly in an accented Sotoan "Rouse the Council, for there is much to discuss!" To his right emerged a young woman with fierce eyes, clad in burnished chainmail, tabarded in a deep green. To his left emerged a man tall in the saddle, his platemail corrugated in the manner of shells, with a full faced helm festooned with clasping claws. There they stood, ahead of the van, awaiting the Council. |
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| Aniketos | Jun 16 2017, 04:07 PM Post #2 |
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Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.
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Since Madrid had been taken back he had often walked through the streets, from one task to another, and seen how the city had become overgrown during the occupation. The skeletons of once-great weeds stood up between cobblestones; rose bushes, once cultivated, had grown in and out of fractured windows; a tide of leaves fallen from convoluted trees was being gathered up in wheelbarrows to be hauled away. There was a constant hum of activity throughout the day as the Sotoans worked to restore the city to something liveable. They dug up weeds, they rehinged doors, they dug up the trees that had taken root in their own homes. Work as they might, Aniketos thought that the city would never be the same. It wasn’t just the incredible magnitude of work that had to be done, it wasn’t even the issue of the massive tree that had grown out of the carcass of the Guildhall – something had changed, something deeper than the cosmetic. The city would bear this wound forever, even if every oddity were uprooted. He had some time to wander today, to chase the unsettled feeling that squirmed in his gut. As such he had gone to the top of Main Street and had gone down the hill, away from the Guildhall, and sought out remembrance of the night that Madrid fell. His memories from that night were fractured and surreal, like disordered recollections of a dream, but they started to return as he walked down the hill. Yes, yes, down this way he had come, marching in step with a hundred others. Fear and delusion had spurred his pulse to galloping. As one they had stopped before the marketplace, and had stood in the cold watching the stream of enemy lights march up the hill. After some time, Méadaigh had come–! His heart faltered at the thought of her for, oh, what had been lost! Walking down this familiar street – made unfamiliar by the saplings struggling out from between paving stones and the profuse ivy scars on the sides of the buildings, he touched the scar on his cheek. That – that had been her first kiss, the kiss of an arrow! How it had burned and struck him through with such profound terror! Now he came down to it, to the exact site of the battle and, behold! in the full light of the sun, there was not a trace left where bodies had once piled. There was no stain of blood, no memorial – the street was the same as ever. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders at the muscular tension that constantly beset him these days. But, here, if you looked at this door, at the red paint, which cracked and peeled, you could see a scar. Perhaps an arrow had struck this door and splintered the wood. Or was it a sword or a shield erratically flung in the moment of death? Looking at the door, Aniketos’ stomach suddenly fell like a bird struck by an arrow. Was this…? But no, it was too close to the marketplace. He looked at each door in succession, worried that he would not be able to find the right one. Perhaps he had imagined it all – after all, it was hard to tell what of those memories was real and what was not. There was one, however, that stirred his memory the most. Aniketos walked towards the yellow door slowly, wondering if he was tracing the exact steps her had taken that night. That door, with the window right beside – this must be the exact spot! He came close, but felt he could not going in, not knowing whether the people who had lived there had ever returned. Nonetheless he remembered it quite vividly – the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, the muffled sounds of war passing through the window, the dust hanging in the air. Why had he gone in there in the first place? Even thinking of it brought him close to the churning madness that had overtaken him on that night. He rushed in here, perhaps just to get his head straight, and he had fallen against the door, thinking of his mother saying, “There is no use worrying over a mistake you’ve made…You must only decide what to do next.” And oh, what mistakes! Mistakes resulting in the deaths of a third or more of the Sotoan populace. But what next? Oh, what next? At that moment he heard a few scattered cries from the sparsely-populated marketplace. His head snapped up and he caught sight of a dark-haired young man running towards him, flushed with effort. “Councillor Hesperés!” he began to say before even coming to a stop. “The Morrimians are here!” He came to a halt before Aniketos, half doubled over and panting. “What?” “A whole panoply – all armoured, with supply wagons, cavalry, the whole lot! The Emperor is with them, and said that we should rouse the Council!” “The Emperor?” Much to the man’s surprise, Aniketos laughed. “Leofric is here? Oh, what a joy! I’ve waited for this day!” Overcome by good humour – which was all the greater for its contrast with his previous dark mood – he folded over with laughter. “Well,” he said once he recovered, “I will head down by myself first.” “But – sir!” said the man, panic in his eyes. “Armed to the tee–“ “Do you think this outfit is not good enough for them?” Aniketos looked down at his worn linen tunic. “Ah well, I don’t have time to change it’ll have to do. Don’t worry, I shall be perfectly safe. Even as such I am armed in ways you cannot fathom. I am fairly sure I can handle this one myself, but you may as well go find the other Council members. Vaal and Pomoros aren’t there though – Vaal’s in Reine and Pomoros went to Fuscis. Their guildmasters are around though, find them too.”” With that, Aniketos patted the man on the shoulder and began to walk off, sandals flapping. “Councillor–!” cried the man, but Aniketos merely turned about and cried, “I will be fine, I promise! You shan’t lose your dear Councillor today.” As he walked down Main Street he saw many frightened faces. News had spread fast. Surely his ridiculous grin didn’t do much to soothe his citizens – now they probably thought their Councillor and war hero had broken under the stress and lost his mind. A few came to him, whimpering out their terrors, but he assured them that it would all be fine. Soon enough he could see the gathering of armour and shining shields through the spiny web of tree branches. He reached the bottom of the hill and, after picking his way through some saplings, he found himself face to face with Emperor Leofric de Hollemark himself. Still he grinned. “Leofric!” he said jovially, not bothering with honorifics. After all, didn’t their past put them on a first name basis. “What’re you trying to do here? Whatever it is I think we should talk about it alone.” |
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| Leofric de Hollemark | Jun 19 2017, 12:15 AM Post #3 |
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The Emperor watched as the pole-axed labourers slowly were roused from their initial shock, and rushed away. Some abandoned their tools of reclamation where they had stood, others hastily swung them over shoulders and headed off at brisk paces. The Emperor waited, as some his host of knights spread out at slow trots, keen eyes behind shuttered helms watching for signs of armed resistance from the Sotoans, or Fae ambushes. Others unassigned such responsibiities relaxed, loping off into indefinite groups, their listlessness in stark contrast with their finery. As the vanguard loosened and spread, the wagons were brought to the fore, behind the Imperial party. The Emperor licked his lips, his eyes held to the wrecked city before him. It had been many years since he had last visited Madrid, and he still bore the city some certain affections. It hurt him to see it overrun like this, but a more malign desire burned within him. Like a hunter with quarry cornered, he sensed great opportunity - and advantage. He knew his hand must be steady, his demeanour cool, and yet the anticipation of the moment lurched within him. Slowly, a lone figure became visible, picking their way through the skeletons of bushes and structures near-ruin. Leofric assumed it to be a herald or an emissary, given their rough attire, but soon enough golden ringlets appeared haloed atop the man's head. Leofric grinned, though his stomach lurched somewhat. This was always a possibility most high, though he had half-hoped that Madrid would have been governed by some of the weaker Councillors, whose nerves would have been shot by an Imperial host at the gates. With a graceful wave of his hand, he bade the Knight and the Duchess beside him remain, and he trotted out to meet Aniketos. As he drew closer, the Councillor spoke, his tone strong and almost jovial. “Leofric! What’re you trying to do here? Whatever it is I think we should talk about it alone.” Leofric grinned, and gave a hearty laugh in response. His mount whickered, but continued forward until they were a good ten paces from each other. Gold and emerald met, and though the Councillor was roughly clothed and dirty from his labours, his beauty still shone through. It had been many years since they had last met, and Aniketos looked nearly untouched by both time and the melee. Leofric grinned, and spoke. "And my warmest greetings to you Councillor! It looks as if the war has not only taken its toll on the jewel that was Madrid, but on your wardrobe also!" he jibed to guffaws from the gathered knights, his tone flowing like honey of a fresh harvest "I'm sure I've a mount to spare you, that we may proceed into the city shoulder to shoulder. It would not be seemly otherwise." He raised himself in the saddle slightly, and clicked his teeth thrice - his horse responded immediately into a side step, which ceased as soon as the Emperor's full weight was placed back on the saddle. The Knight of Crabs and the Duchess followed suit, creating a void between the Councillor and the still-arriving wagons - an unobstructed view. Leofric let the Councillor's gaze at it for ten heartbeats or so, before continuing. "It would be well were you to accept this offer, for I have with me thirty wagons, full of grain, salt meats, cheese and fruit. Come, ride with me, and we shall dispense it to your hungry populace. Though your attire is not befitting, surely your bearing retains that of illustrious leadership."he grinned, though his eyes became hard, and spoke again, with a little more weight. "We shall parlay afterward." Edited by Leofric de Hollemark, Jun 19 2017, 12:15 AM.
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| Aniketos | Jun 19 2017, 10:18 AM Post #4 |
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Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.
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"Ah, but of course," said Aniketos at the tumbling laughter of so many knights, "I must bow to you on that matter." His body tipped in a sort of parody of a flourished half-bow. "I know that you would do your utmost to preserve your appearances in a time of crisis – for it most befits a sovereign to remain beautiful to inspire the morale and adoration of the people." His grin, seemingly so genuine, concealed his irritation, but his pyrite eyes were hard with malice. Ah, so the carts were full of food for the Sotoans! That was a good excuse for an armed guard – after all, who knew what could happen in the forest these days? Not much, judging by the polished, though sweaty appearance of the entourage. Nonetheless, food was food – and they sorely needed it now. Of course, if Leofric wanted to show true generosity he would have moved to lower tariffs on the food being imported to Reine. For once Aniketos dropped his impervious smile, dipping his head solemnly. "From my heart I thank you for your gift to our people. It is comforting, after this long isolation and turmoil, to find that we still have friends in this world." The horse that Leofric had offered him was brought forward. "Yes," he said, "Afterwards." His gaze penetrated Leofric for a long moment. His lips trembled momentarily with restrained laughter, as he thought, A penetrating stare...Leofric should recognise that feeling. Smoothly he mounted the horse, surprised for a second at its broadness. All the horses in Soto had become so thin by comparison! Looking around at these plump Morrimians, he thought how thin he had become as well. Indeed, as he had mounted the horse, the motion had revealed the thinness of his limbs which, though still strong, had lost all their padding. His eyes glimmered with inconsolable energy in deepened sockets and his cheekbones and jaw were more prominent than ever. His long legs squeezed at the sides of the horse to set it into motion and he rode alongside Leofric, in close proximity to the man who he had known so many years ago, in days of innocence. "You have made a long journey to give us this gift – and come in person no less!" he said to him, "How blessed we are. Did you run into much trouble on the road?" A moment later, Aniketos noticed several Councillors picking their way down the road. "Ah, there they are!" he said. He distinguished them as Councillor Omeros, Councillor Ramsley and Councillor Gyna. Quickly, he reached his mind out to Councillor Omeros. When he touched her mind it recoiled like a surprised animal, then returned to his touch. He has brought us food. Can you check it for poisons, intoxicants, anything? I trust this man about as much as I trust the woods. Yes, I can do it. But there's so much – it will take me some time! Do your best. If you come across any who can help recruit them immediately. And be subtle about it – we must preserve appearances here. Omeros returned an affirmative. By this point the Councillors were coming close to their party. "What is the meaning of all this?" shouted Ramsley, stopping with his fists on his hips. "Hush," said Aniketos, "The Emperor has come to help us, can't you see?" |
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| Leofric de Hollemark | Jun 30 2017, 02:20 AM Post #5 |
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The Emperor watched, cordiality carved into his waxen features, as he watched the Councillor mount. Aniketos had changed much since last they had met – not least by the rigours of war that his now-lean frame showed. His eyes were just as calculating as they had been, though affected now with a definite hardness, as opposed to the potential mischief that had been there before. The Emperor was himself changed from those days – from an errant nobleman, not yet even a title holder, to the one divinely ordained to govern the realm. The wildness and decadence of youth had been forged into an icy realpolitik. ”Let us away, good Councillor, to announce the bounty to your citizens,” he stated, as Aniketos mounted ”Osric, take the van! Announce for your Emperor.” A portly man, robed in blue silk, deeply inclined his head to the pair as he rode past. He rode some thirty paces before he produced an ornate bronze bell and began rhythmically swinging it around his body in wide looping motions, nearly as a priest cleansing an area with incense. The rest of the troop swiftly organised themselves into ranks, with Aniketos and Leofric at the front, and began to move into the city proper. As soon as he was past the city boundary, the herald began a proclamation in a smooth Sotoan, its enunciation and diction nearly flawless, but almost strange in its archaic formality. ”Sotoans, go without fear, for the majestic Emperor of Morrim has arrived. The Imperator has arrived, and he brings with him a bounteous relief for you all; those stricken by the mighty carnage that has ravaged your nation, those with weak limbs and empty stomachs. The Emperor has deigned to help his fellow man. Go without fear, for the most Imperial Leofric de Hollemark, has arrived, and has brought with him…” And so the declaration continued, looping around musically, and forever punctuated by the ringing bronze bell. Leofric’s eyes wondered around at the state of the city as they progressed – what had once been paved streets and orderly buildings had been replaced by a grotesquerie. Houses were wrecked, many of their rooved shattered, their foundations warped by the corpses of mighty trees and plants. Walls leaned sickeningly, and sheltered hollow-eyed men and women –those that had the energy followed to hst, those that did not sat in their despondence. He could hardly believe that Madrid had been so broken. ”I see the suffering here is great, Councillor. It is some miracle that you have managed to beat back this Fae foe,” he stated, with what seemed to be a hint of melancholy in his voice ”How does Reine fare? Madrid is the seat of Soto, to see it wrecked so beggars belief. Whatever shall you do now?” They came then to the old Guildhall, a huge tree sprouting from within its foundations and bursting through the roof in an unruly protrusion. The Emperor dismounted, greeting the Councillors and offering them close handshakes and low words of consolation. The rest of the host slowly filled the square before it, with the foot and the squires spiiling out to the perimeters, keeping the following populace away from the wagons. He beckoned to van Berlich and the Duchess, who were riding at the head of the knights, and called out. ”Honoured brethren, please assist the Councillors with the distribution of the food. I shall speak with Councillor Hesperés alone.” He turned to Aniketos, their eyes locking again, and motioned to the worn stone steps that led up to the Guildhall proper. ”Let us parlay in a place where we can survey, good Aniketos. I feel it shall aid our conference.” |
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| Aniketos | Oct 9 2017, 11:05 AM Post #6 |
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Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.
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"I prefer to not call it a miracle but a result of the collective effort and strength of the Sotoan people and a good use of tactics. From the outside it seems a miracle, but if you had been there, you would have seen." This he delivered a little harshly – could Leofric not give credit where credit was due? A miraculous victory did not cost thousands of lives. Though he knew the Morrimians could not have possibly been there – they would have been eaten alive by the forest – he bitterly wished that somebody, anybody had been. However, thinking of Morrimians, he added, a little more lightly, "Though you may not know that your own Lord Alexandros Phloropoulos was of a great help to us at the time, offering to us the use of his ship The Green Bird. We have conferred him all the honours we can, but I think it only right if he is recognised as a hero in your country as well." He paused to speak of Reine. How much did he really want to give away? He listened to the musical intoning of the announcer for a moment before answering, "We managed to keep Reine from Méadaigh's powers over the course of the entire war. It remains a stronghold." No need to make mention of the fact that overpopulation continued there and that they had yet to figure out what to do with all the refugees. "There is nothing to do but rebuild, don't you see? People have been lost, but the Sotoan spirit remains firm, all the more powerful and unified from this experience. The best honour to the lost is to show them a country greater than the one they died for." At the top of the hill, Leofric dismounted and Aniketos followed his lead. After a few more formalities, Leofric led the way to the door of the abandoned Guildhall. Aniketos raised an eyebrow but came along behind him. Chains bound the doors closed but moved aside like heavy snakes at a wave of Aniketos' hand. He pressed the door open and together they entered into the Guildhall, once the scene of the Sotoan government and now the inner sanctum of its injury. The Council chamber was pierced through by the enormous tree that lorded over the city. It grew at the far end of the spacious room, but its powerful roots had cracked the marble floors, disturbing them to the point that they looked like waves on a rough sea. The hole the tree had made in the roof let in the summer's light, which pooled, halo-like, on the floor, allowing for a community of vines to flourish. The roof had collapse in places, giving the chamber the dappled appearance of a forest floor. By that light they could both see that this place was still the scene of Ginko's defeat at the hands of the teifling Sabellius. Though the bodies had been removed, the rubble of broken pillars still littered the floor and all the furniture had been reduced to splinters, which lingered in shadowy corners. The table that around which Councillors had once discussed policy was long gone; there was no place for them to sit, so they must stand, amongst the peaceful chirpings of crickets and the mingled smells of musty abandonment and fresh summer. "Nice of you to choose this place – I suppose you wanted to see the heart of destruction, didn't you?" Aniketos came close to Leofric in one firm stride and now spoke to him, his face inches from the Emperor's. All the veils of decorum had been pulled away; now his eyes flickered with rage, red flowering in his cheeks and livid lips. "Though I appreciate your gifts, I'd doubly thank you to not come here making a show of military splendor. Do you imagine that I'm not all caught up on the gossip I missed during the war? I know very well of your aspirations for Morrim and I have no doubt that you think this is an excellent time to seize our land. You are a fool. We are not weak because of this. We have thrown off the greatest enemy that any country in this world has known and we would bat you off like flies, for now every Sotoan knows exactly what this land means to them." |
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