SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


QUICK TIDBITS

  • We accept any member who wants to RP here;
  • We are an intermediate-level RPG;
  • We have been open since June 2004;
  • Elly's layouts work best in Chrome, Firefox, Safari, and Opera. It is not optimized for IE.

  • CURRENT EVENTS

    Angkar: To honour the reinvigoration of the ancient city of Mondrágon, the majestic Queen Eulalia has permitted the opening of a Coliseum where people from around the world and all walks of life can test their combat skills against one another. Many have already done battle in search of honour, glory, prizes and money.

    Ashoka: In an otherwise peaceful times, Ashokans are beset with the relatively minor inconveniences of wandering undead and occasionally-aggressive giant rock worms. There has also been some controversy over the recent re-legalisation of human sacrifice.

    Morrim: Rumour has it that Emperor Leofric de Hollemark is mustering forces for a war. Though the threat from Soto’s forests has passed, the forces previously employed in watching the forest now linger at the border. Rumours also circulate of a small group that has been dispatched to make contact with the tribes of the Do’suul Mountains.

    Soto: The Sotoans have defeated the fey and liberated themselves from Méadaigh’s oppression! Preliminary efforts have been made at rebuilding the city of Madrid, which had been captured at the beginning of the war. However, the Sotoans are hindered from recovery famine. Méadaigh’s magic caused summer to persist in the Erth’netora Forest through the winter. Her power has been withdrawn and the plants die as if preparing for winter – even though it is now summer. The Sotoans must sustain off what food they can get, what creatures they can kill and what can be imported into the city from Morrim and Angkar.

    For a fuller description of our most recent events, check out our most recent edition of The Town Crier!

    daringraven
    Administrator
    Qayin Graves
    SHADOW
    Supporting Admin.

    Kestrel Sumner (Shadow)
    Kindle Blackheath
    Orion de Lacey
    Sinadryn Arsydian
    Welcome to our home, a world in which anything can happen. From sprawling deserts and vast forests to massive volcanoes and luscious hot springs, Soare and the Scattered Isles are beautiful places just waiting to be explored. For the brave and the bold or the cautious and the wary, creatures of all kinds roam the earth, looking for adventure or for a place to call their own. Species of all kinds - the well-known and the unknown - thrive here, though not always in harmony.

    Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real.

    Enter Our World

    Username:   Password:
    As in the Garden, So in the Land; Leofric~~
    Topic Started: Oct 20 2014, 08:20 PM (289 Views)
    Aniketos
    Member Avatar
    Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.

    Summer, 2AR

    Five silhouettes crept up to the stone wall of Madrid’s Immortal Gardens, stifling their laughter needlessly, for there was no one around at this time of night to hide from. They took in the sight of the barrier in momentary silence, and then several collapsed into further laughter, swaying against the wall with mirth. One did not join them, but chastised them with a grin, his amber eyes gleaming with reflected moonlight: “Come on now, it’s not that high. We had to climb ones higher than this in training. A bit of drink and you’re suddenly legless? I expected better from you!”

    One man broke away from the wall in a bow so deep he nearly toppled over into worship on the ground. “Oh, do forgive us, great and mighty Guildmaster!” he slurred, sending convulsions of muffled laughter through the other two who’d leaned up against the wall.

    “You are forgiven, Lord Rathurn,” said the Guildmaster solemnly, touching the supplicant’s shoulder with two fingers, “But not all of us are floored at the sight of a wall.” This sent Rathurn careening away in giggles and, despite himself, the Guildmaster wore a sparkling grin, his pale cheeks flushing red with delight. He reached over to the man who stood seriously, still facing the wall, and gave him a hearty thump on the back. “See Sir Leofric here? This paragon of bravery! This flower of youthful beauty!” This attracted further giggling, as Leofric was older than any of them, even Aniketos Hesperés, the Guildmaster of Auberon’s Destiny. “He does not quail before a simple wall. No, he shall stare it down until it crumbles before his very eyes!” One of the figures against the wall, a woman, cackled loudly, and then smacked a hand to her mouth to silence herself. “But,” said Guildmaster Aniketos, “I think it would be faster if he climbed over. And given that he’s so brave, he should have the honour of going first.”

    Rathurn, who was the brawniest of the group, hefted Leofric up and, whether he liked it or not, provided him a step up so he could scramble over the wall. The woman, Lannelise, went next, placing her bottle of wine on top of the wall before climbing up. She stood there for a moment, her legs set wide apart, and took a healthy swig from her bottle before leaping nimbly down to the ground on the other side. Blonde-haired Xanthus was next, careful not to spill his tankard of rum, and then it was the Guildmaster’s turn. Once he was up, he stared down at Rathurn with his fists on his hips and said, “Well, have a nice night!” He made to jump off, but Rathurn cursed at him and Aniketos turned around, laughing, his tawny curls bobbing. He helped Rathurn up with some difficulty, grunting, “By the gods, your moustache must weigh pounds!”

    Once they were both safely over on the other side, Rathurn preened his moustache and said, “Fifteen pounds to be exact. I weigh it every morning!” Aniketos’ peal of laughter cut through the humid summer air and the haze of insect song. He threw an arm over Rathurn’s shoulder and stared out at the world that they’d found on the other side of the wall.

    They’d come down onto forested ground which sloped steeply down towards a meandering dirt path. Beyond the path, the ground sloped down further, but to what they could not see, for the ancient trees crowded it out of sight. Aniketos breathed in the scent of growth sleeping in the night, of damp earth and pine needles and creeping moss. His drunken lungs savoured it and were hungry for more, so he inhaled again, closing his eyes and growing dizzy with the love of it. When he flicked his eyes opened, the others had already begun to scuffle their way down the slope, kicking up pine needles.

    When they came to the path, Aniketos snatched up Xanthus’ tankard and drank down a few mouthfuls of rum. “Hey, not so much!” protested Xanthus, trying to wrest the cup from his Guildmaster’s hand only to find that his grip was like iron. When Aniketos had had as much as he wanted, he carefully placed it back in his friend’s grasp and kissed his downy cheek with wet lips, saying, “Oh, you still love me. I need more than you anyways, and much more than Rathurn. You’re all such lightweights.”

    He stared down the path, where the branches allowed the passage of thousands of tiny panels of moonlight. He felt the warmth of the drink stinging in his chest and smiled to himself, his curled head muzzy and swirling with pleasure. The collar of his loose purple shirt slipped over the curve of his shoulder, revealing the lean musculature lying beneath his skin. He was silent for a moment, or more, and then he noticed an interruption in the dapples of moonlight. Who is that? Oh, it’s Leofric!

    He had forgotten about him already: he barely knew the man, who was some sort of special apprentice from Morrim. He had scrawled his signature on the paperwork that allowed him to continue learning at Auberon’s Destiny and had not thought about him again. Then, tonight, when Aniketos and his three friends had taken to drinking in the guildhall, they found Leofric in the library and had applied so much genial pressure that he somehow consented to come on their journey to the Immortal Gardens in the middle of the night.

    “But can Leofric the Brave hold his liquor?” he wondered. That confident grin was on his pretty face again. He snatched up Rathurn’s tankard, eliciting a sharp “Hey!” The others tried to shush him but, as Aniketos bounded away, he heard Rathurn saying loudly, “Who even cares? It’s not like they guard this place!” Then he shouted, “Hello! Hello!” and the call echoed out amongst the trees.

    Aniketos slouched his arm over Leofric’s shoulder, the tankard sloshing in his hand. “Have you even had any? You better, before we run out. I need a lot, you see, but maybe you can beat me to it.” He pushed the tankard on Leofric, his head lolling so that his curls brushed the man’s cheek. Just as the tankard was out of his hand, the trees cleared away and he saw where the path wound up. “Oh, Hailis Almighty. Look at that.”

    His arm dropped from Leofric’s shoulder and he bounded ahead, out onto a paved terrace. Set in green tiles on the terrace was Soto’s mighty oak and, beyond that, was the wall of the terrace, and then the drop. Aniketos ran straight up to the low wall and leaned out, feeling the breeze rush across his face. Below him was a fountain of clear water, set in another terrace perhaps fifteen feet below the first one and linked to it by a narrow, flower-lined stair. Beyond that was another terrace, and another, stepping down and down until they were concealed by trees. Far away, he could see where the tops of the trees rose up again, rising up the other side of the valley on which the Immortal Gardens had been built. Above it all was placed the moon, like a silver coin in the sky, sitting in the scattering of infinitely many stars.

    “Why did I never come here before?” cried Aniketos, throwing his arms out to the breeze.

    Lannelise was next to reach the wall, and she cuddled up underneath Aniketos’ arm. “Well, I’ve been telling you to for months, but you’re always so ‘busy.’” She drank from her wine bottle again, and held it up to the light to judge how much was left.

    Aniketos twisted around, grinning at the others as they came straggling up to the edge of the terrace. Leofric caught his eye again, and he turned the full force of his radiating cheeriness on him, saying, “Well, what do you think, Sir Leofric? Are you glad you came?”
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Leofric de Hollemark
    Member Avatar


    The night had been quiet and still as the young nobleman had ridden hard from Reine. He had been delayed on his way there - delivering military despatches - the cursed forest twisted and concealed itself, and he had ended up some thirty miles south of the city. This had increased his journey by a day, to much derision and scorn poured on Morrimian horsemanship at the other end, but he had an examination in three days that occupied his waking thoughts and it became as water off a duck's back. He had rode his mount hell-for-leather back to the capital, and had been at quiet study in the Guildhall library, struggling to keep his eyes open at detailed accounts of Sotoan checker-board infantry formations.

    That was, until a group of his drunken contemporaries had burst in, led by none other than the young Guildmaster himself. After some teasing, which had become ubiquitous to the noble by now, and some fierce cajoling - almost resulting in a sword duel with the mustached Rathurn - he had been convinced to accompany them in their drunken revelry. It was remarkably difficult, after all, to refuse the one by whose grace his studies continued.

    As they made their way to the vaunted Immortal Gardens - Leofric had, in all his four years in Madrid, never visited - he stood somewhat apart from them. He was dressed demurely: a single-breasted doublet, britches and his somewhat worn riding boots, all in black. His was quiet, as if watching their rambunctious behaviour from afar, and hadn't had a drop from them. He found he disliked Sotoan alcohol; the was wine sour and the rum too spicy for his tastes. It made him long for the full-bodied beer of his native land, or the bitter gin. He found his studies and duties so exhausting - half a year with the soldiers, half a year with the merchants - that he had little time for revelry. Unlike his comrades, of course.

    He found it odd, even after these four years, that the armed forces in Soto were so debauched. Drinking was definitely practiced in his native land - but the context was utterly different. One took a few draughts of beer after a tourney, as a salve to flowering bruises and sprained limbs and one certainly took it with food; but the sheer volume and frequency in Soto was decadent.

    And so, he and his new companions faced a wall, their half-stifled laughter and goading jests disturbing the stillness of the night. As he meditated, somewhat anxious to either study some more or return to his bunk, a rough slap on the back brought him back to the present. He wheeled, being faced with the grinning visage of the young Guildmaster.

    "“See Sir Leofric here? This paragon of bravery! This flower of youthful beauty!”

    He gave a wan smile, and averted his eyes from the glistening gaze of the younger man, before replying in his Sotoan, marred slightly by his halting, almost guttural, Morrimian accent.

    "A fine courser and a strong lance would make shorter work of it than my gaze, my liege." he winced slightly, inwardly cursing his utterly Morrimian choice of words "But, it is as you say."

    He found himself somewhat manhandled up the wall by the man who had nearly challenged him ealier, and he made what grace he could of the situation, heaving himself over the wall to land on the other side with no small amount of dexterity. As he straightened, he was struck by the beauty of the place. His wandering gaze led on his wandering gait, and the laughter and exertions of his companions were almost silenced by the quiet virtue of the surroundings.

    An arm was thrown over his shoulder, and he felt hot breath and tickling curls upon the skin of his face as a tankard was thrust to him. He took it, feeling the press of the young Guildmaster's body against his own. Dutifully he took a draught, shutting his eyes hard against the creeping fire in his gullet. Suddenly, the man was off again, invoking the name of some God as he hurtled towards a terrace, followed by his companions. He strode easily after the man, wanting to oblige his whims, and also return the rum. He had forgotten his sword at the library, and didn't want to risk the ire of Rathurn - the brute would surely smash him in a pugilistic contest despite his drunkenness.

    As he neared the edge of the low wall, his breath caught in his throat. His gritty, green eyes widened with wonder at the stark beauty, the sculpted steps into the valley, the carefully chosen and organised flowers and plants, all illuminated by the near-spectral light of the moon. Not even Kinaldi had anything to match this! The voice of Aniketos pealed out to him once more, and he turned to lock eyes with him.

    "It... is beautiful. Wondrous, even. By Vespasian, I should declare there is not a place to match it, not even in Morrim."

    He strode out, mounting the first of the descending steps, tankard still in hand. He took another draught, almost by accident, the alcohol firing him, as if it was burning away his weariness. He smacked his lips, but then began a restrained coughing fit as he took a breath, the spice filling his lungs. Feeling slightly adventurous, he ventured something new to the giggling coterie.

    "Though, it is a little manicured. The thicket around Kinaldi is beautiful on the virtue of its own wild character, rather than the yoking of it by diligent gardeners."
    Edited by Leofric de Hollemark, Oct 23 2014, 08:12 AM.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Aniketos
    Member Avatar
    Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.

    Aniketos straightened and grinned, his chest thrust out as if it was he who was being commended, not the gardens. "Soto is a country of wonders, I have always said it, even to those who don't believe me."

    "Oh, shut up," said Lannelise, "You only just discovered this place. What do you know?" She pinched his cheek and went dashing down the stairs, not even staying to hear what Leofric said. Rathurn went running after her, but Aniketos stayed, and so did Xanthus, watching their interaction with a wide grin.

    "Ah, the untamed wilds of Morrim," he said, "Quite a sight, it is true, but that has nothing to do with the accomplishment of Morrimian hands. This garden–" he swung out a wide arm, "–is not just a demonstration of the nature of Soto's land but of the skilfulness of the Sotoan–"

    Xanthus elbowed him, saying, "This isn't a debate, shut your face."

    Aniketos clapped his mouth shut and glared at Xanthus. "What is it with you and Lannelise? I'm just trying to have a conversation."

    "You're being a bloody demagogue," said Xanthus, tugging on his arm, "Come on, they'll escape."

    As if to prove his point, Lannelise's whooping cry echoed through the woods, followed by a shout from Rathurn. "They're being barbarians," grumbled Aniketos, "We'll never catch up, better to let them find us than go running about in the dark looking for each other."

    "It can't hurt to look around anyways," said Xanthus. So Aniketos followed him down the narrow, steep stairs to the next terrace. Aniketos' bad temper did not last long: once they were on the terrace, Xanthus went spinning and dancing away, singing a bawdy tune about a tavern wench and a lobster, and Aniketos was laughing again. He thought to go spinning off alone, but he knew Leofric would just stand there stiffly and uncomfortably. Xanthus was soon finished with his dance anyways, for he stumbled off the paving stones and went careening over the grassy stretch of the terrace beyond it, trying to regain his balance.

    "Behold!" shouted Aniketos, "The Mighty Xanthus of Reine! Such elegant footwork he has!"

    Xanthus managed to right himself and made the sign of the fig at Aniketos, then went wandering out across the small stretch of grass, his hand trailing through the wisteria vines that scrambled up over the walls of the enclosure. Aniketos led Leofric across the terrace in silence, his eyes turned up to the star-frosted beard of the sky. He scooped a hand through the water of the fountain, and then went down the stairs to the next terrace.

    He took in the sight from above: columns of rose bushes, with aisles of grass in between. They had come when the roses were in bloom, and he could smell their buttery sweetness even from a distance. This whole situation seemed suddenly amazing to him, especially in the vivid colorations of drunkenness, and the sight and smell of roses, which were as bright as stairs in the night, was so beautiful that it was heartbreaking.

    Aniketos glanced up at Leo, his eyes wide, his lips just parted, his brow peaked up over his nose. He wanted to say something about how beautiful was, he wanted to explain how it felt that his heart was pleasantly tortured by a longing to hold and preserve the place, but all the words he came up with seemed trite and clichéd. When they came off the stairs, Aniketos wandered between the centre-most columns of roses and stopped to drink in a draught of perfumed air. He thought that he heard, in the distance, more cries from Lannelise and Rathurn. How could they bear to tear through such a beautiful place?

    He fingered the serrated leaf of a rose bush, bent over to bury his nose in a soft white bloom, and when he straightened himself, he closed his eyes and almost knew how to say what he felt: "If I could just lie here, die here and be buried, become a part of it..." He opened his eyes, his furrowed gaze falling on Leofric again, wishing for him to understand.
    Edited by Aniketos, Nov 18 2014, 09:38 PM.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Leofric de Hollemark
    Member Avatar


    The man stood there, amidst the whirling dervish that was their drunken revelry. He thought to riposte the young Guildmaster's words, to rebut them in a manner that would draw a line under the matter. He was rather bored of the Sotoans lording it over him, the constant jibes about Morrimian valour and skills, their inferiority against the Republic's culture. Their concept of honour was rather skewed, in his eyes - it was all about the self, skills were publicised without substance, and their large words were often hollow. In Morrim, one's honour was determined by your fealty to your lord, the service of your knights, and your duty to the peasants - all hanging together in a tangled web of mutual reliance.

    And yet, he could not help but admire the creative gumption of the southerners. Individual ventures were celebrated, and supported - and so, industry flowed through all corners of their reality, leading to greater innovations. This existed in tandem with their cocksure individualism, both swirling together, the force of one animating the other and vice versa. It was beautiful to behold - even though it broke some men, and turned others to hedonistic libertines. The gardens was a case in point - the sheer pride and force of will that reclaimed the land, beat back and manicured the forest, carved the very stone he was standing on. In Morrim, one created a centrepiece on a flat rock or a high hill - one painted with the grain, and let all else rise to its own destiny. A dyadic coexistence.

    He stood at ease, his weight shifting to one hip, as he surveyed the surroundings, the arboreal and floral beauty screaming at him, as though each plant and shrub and tree had been yoked to make a statement of some kind. Yet, a declaration of no strict definition, rather more a display. As the revellers disappeared, one dancing a jig on the steps before he melted away, he realised that both his admiration, and his resentment, were purely represented by the young Guildmaster before him. A wan smile tugged at his lips, as he moved over the smooth stone of the terrace, following the footsteps of this sole remaining man. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they wondered, the noble declining his body slightly to sample the perfume of a white rose from a much manicured bush.

    He turned to the man, and it was almost as if they were the same images on a silvered mirror, as Aniketos himself was just straightening from the exact same manoeuvre. Their eyes met, and the nobleman's heart seemed to skip a beat. Those eyes, sitting beneath furrowed brows, were as the stars above them, glittering and full of promise, of potential. They induced a man to stretch, and reach, and grasp vainly.

    If I could just lie here, die here and be buried, become a part of it...

    Leofric broke the gaze, giving something of a light chuckle as he walked lightly in a half circle around the man, head bowed in thought. His pace was slow, almost lethargic, and when his head rose once to look the other man in the eye it was as if he was roused from a deep slumber.

    "Do you not see, Guildmaster?" he began, the diction of his Sotoan slow "You are. This is emblematic of the republic - to take the iron to the anvil, to forge it to something. To... define it in one's own terms. Only here, there are shovels and shears that bend nature to the will of man."

    He paused a little, obviously struggling with his expression in Sotoan. He was something of a loner in this country, despite his presence there spanning years. He knew how to ask, and answer, and respond - but discussion of ambiguous concepts was something denied him somewhat. He pursed his lips, and continued.

    "You are a favoured son of Soto. But sons make mothers, as much as mothers make sons. I am perhaps... inexpressive, but it is like an endless river, flowing into itself forever. These gardens are you, but a different son. Just as you are these gardens."

    He bowed his head once more, lapsing into silence as he paused before a slightly wilder bush.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Aniketos
    Member Avatar
    Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.

    Leofric made his way around Aniketos, speaking as if he were the author of some manifesto of Sotoan values. Aniketos had never bothered to put such values into words, but now that they were placed before him, he found them to be accurate. Tonight, however, they were wrong. Their eyes met again, and Aniketos could see the tiny orb of the moon reflected in Leofric's gaze. It looked like a tiny dab of white in a painting.

    "Well, you're right...but I mean...not like that." It was a simpler desire, simple as a knife to the heart, but how was he to say it? He could preach eloquently about duty, about Soto, about battle and glory, though he'd never had to lead a real charge to the death. He had never known this before, though he had a creeping suspicion that it had been vining its way through his life all along, surreptitiously, silently, and he was just waiting to bloom. "You say all that...but I don't feel a part of it. The beauty of this place feels so distant, like I could stare and stare but it is always beyond touching, or seeing..."

    He summoned up more thoughts, struggling to ball them up into something he could comprehend, but there was the sound of footsteps on the cobblestone, and Lannelise returned, humming some tune, her hand full of purple cyclamens. She pranced up to them and tucked one behind Aniketos' ear, then did the same for Leofric. Aniketos smiled at how the flower dangled there like a purple comet, frozen as it streaked past the Morrimian's cheek. Xanthus came wandering back over, and he received the same treatment. She put one behind her own ear, and had just one left for Rathurn.

    "Come on, I must show you something!" she said then, tugging on Aniketos hand.

    "What is it?" asked Xanthus, for Aniketos' thoughts were still dispersed across the unknowable and he was slow to join back in on the revelry.

    Lannelise threw her arms wide and declared, "I have discovered a hill full of naked ladies!"

    Aniketos sputtered out incredulous laughter. "Full of what?"

    "Naked! Ladies!" she cried.

    Right on cue, Rathurn burst into the rose terrace, bellowing at the top of his lungs, "Did someone just say something about naked ladies?"

    His voice echoed across the night, and woke up some birds, which went shooting into the sky, crying out alarms. Xanthus dropped to the ground in conniptions of laughter, Aniketos folded over with mirth, and Lannelise stood there with a wide grin. Aniketos swiped the wine bottle from her other hand and said to Rathurn, who had sauntered over to stand among the rose bushes, "Come now, Rathurn, don't try so hard. We all know you much prefer this–" he turned about and grabbed his own posterior, "–to any amount of naked ladies."

    Rathurn's nervous laughter, amongst a whole chorus of guffaws, did as much to prove it true. Lannelise placed a flower behind Rathurn's ear and dragged them along, leading them past the wall to the left, past some weathered old benches in a paved yard, and down a path that led straight into a forest. Of course, it was a perfect forest, where life flourished in every corner, even in the shadows, from the cyclamens that Lannelise had harvested to the spiny headdresses of columbine to the mushrooms that struggled out of the earth still moist from the last summer storm.

    Aniketos settled back into the carousing with relief, though he was not saved from a certain uneasiness when he looked upon Leofric. Why had he shared such sentiments with the man? He would not share them with his friends but, then again, he thought it would be worse to show them such abstract longings. Better a stranger, if anyone, even if he was a Morrimian. But, better still if it was no one at all.

    Finally, they wound along a path that curved around the face of a hill, and Lannelise stopped them and stared up at the hill, which presented a tableau of hundreds of pink lilies, tender construction placed upon thick stalks that burst straight up from the ground without the clothing of leaves. "See!" she cried, "Naked ladies!" Then she dropped to the ground in laughter, leaving the rest in a sort of mild, laughing perplexity.

    "So that's what they're called?" asked Aniketos, "Naked ladies?" He'd seen them before; they grew in his mother's garden right after summer rains.

    From the ground, Lannelise said, "Of course! Well, that's my father liked to call them. But my mother always said, 'Don't be vulgar, they're rain lilies.' But naked ladies! What's better than a hill totally covered in naked ladies?"

    The absurdity of it all seized them, and there was laughter again. Rathurn took the chance to cast himself onto the hill, breaking a few stalks. "I'm surrounded by naked ladies!" he cried. He inhaled, and added, "And it smells wonderful!"

    Xanthus was on the ground too. Aniketos stayed standing, inhaling the perfumed air and feeling oddly silent and thoughtful despite all this commotion. His eyes flickered uneasily to Leofric, and he wondered what he was thinking. Surely he did not view such absurd revelry in the most positive light, and Aniketos felt slightly sorry for it, though not exactly ashamed. Perhaps the should not have dragged him along after all. Or, he thought, Perhaps he needs more to drink. So he thrust the wine bottle at the man, and winked.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Leofric de Hollemark
    Member Avatar


    He stood in silence, his keen ears listening intently to words of the young Guildmaster, and his eyes softened with a certain empathy as uncertainty crept into the man. His companion, seemed also to struggle with the correct expression, even in his mother tongue. The doubt that seemed to wrinkle the edges of his eyes as he spoke his last words made the noble's heart ache, and that last sentence seemed to explode from the Sotoan's moist lips. Leofric's mouth hung agape, before he swiftly remembered himself and promptly reassumed his air of flippancy -the odd foreigner, to whom no-one paid much mind.

    The woman had reappeared on the scene as if through a burst of flame. The portcullis of his demeanour slammed shut, the gates shut and barred. Through her excited exclamations, punctuated with odd little squeals, he could feel the fortress of his solitude springing up once more - the motte and bailey erupting around his mind once more, although now it was festooned with a rather fetching flower. Xanthus reappeared, and then the burly Rathurn, and with that the noble's green eyes became hard and watchful once more. Their conversation turned once more to the vulgar, although Leofric did notice more than a little pangs of envy. How could they be so... liberal?

    He followed the troupe dutifully, passed weathered benches and along scrubbed stone, into what seemed to be the sole patch of wildness in the whole place. As they delved into the woodland, his agrarian mind noticed the patterns, the fungus and flowers and bushes arranged like lattices around the too-evenly spaced trees, like the hedgerows of the homeland, keeping the cattle from roaming and stopping the wind from carrying away the soil. He simultaneously sighed and marvelled, at once homesick and floored with wonder. The hours, the workmanship - for what seemed to be purely aesthetic purposes, no utility. His dark thoughts were halted, the hand of Lannelise pulling harshly on their bridle, as she motioned to the hillside, almost effervescent in the darkness.

    At once, the troupe fell about with laughter at Rathurn's pun and pronation, and Leofric himself allowed himself a small chuckle, undoubtedly unheard amongst the racket. His mind, suitably chastised from its downward spiral, loosened somewhat and he moved closer to the group. The edges of his mouth raised slightly in mirth, and he was rewarded with a bottle of wine and a winking eye from his supposed superior. Those creases turned into a grin, and he tipped back his head, taking a long draught. Perhaps Soto was not so bad after all.

    After six healthy gulps, near a third of the bottle, it broke from his lips and he gazed once more upon the hill, now too-pink and too-white in the darkness to his swirling vision. Clumsily, he proffered the bottle, where it was taken by a hand he knew not, nor cared. Those walls about his mind were crumbling, once stout timbers and stone turned to wet paper, and his eyes scanned the group. Something seized him, and he stepped back, spreading his arms.

    "May we all suckle the sweet teat of Soto! Such a mother to valorous sons and daughters!"

    He grinned, clapping Xanthus on the arm and sliding an arm around the Guildmaster'sd shoulders. His mind was dizzying, and his stomach felt a little soured, but he continued. The air felt hot in his lungs, as a mischeivous glint entered those green eyes.

    "Valour, if not on the battlefield, then in the honour of the cups!"
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Aniketos
    Member Avatar
    Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.

    Aniketos had expected to see Leofric standing there as stoically as ever, to take his dutiful sip and return the bottle, but instead he watched as the spirit of their debauchery finally took hold on his slippery walls and mounted into his mind. Leofric's lips curled with a smile and he tipped back, like a swaying stand of timber, and began to suck down the wine. Aniketos' face lit up with surprise and excitement and he couldn't help but cry, almost squealingly, "Oh, look at him go! Look at Leo go!"

    All heads turned, Rathurn laughed and punched the air with his fist, Lannelise cackled and jumped and Xanthus whistled. When he'd taken his share – which well made up for his previous abstinence – there was but a sedimented swill at the bottom of the bottle. "A draught worthy of the heroes of old!" declared Xanthus as the bottle was passed back to Aniketos, who finished it off.

    "Oh, what a champion!" giggled Lannelise, making a show of fluttering her eyelashes at him, "Oh, I do hope that the Wine-King of Morrim will take this virgin body to bed tonight!"

    "I hope he takes me instead!" called Rathurn, with perhaps a little too much bravado. They all laughed anyways.

    Leofric stretched out his arms and made his dramatic proclamation, much to the excitement of the group. "Ah, the teats of Soto!" Rathurn sang back, "I am surrounded by them!" He pulled up a stalk from where he laid on the ground and stuck his face in the delicate flower, making a wet slurping sound into its petals.

    Aniketos clutched his stomach with laughter, his eyes stinging. He stumbled right into Leofric's arm, feeling that bough of warmth settle across his shoulder. He stretched his arm out and held Leofric's waist, and rolled his head back, wide eyes taking in the stream of stars above, his mouth pulled open by the tension of his skin. At Leofric's next line, Xanthus proclaimed "A toast to that!" Aniketos made to raise the now-empty bottle, then he remembered that he'd finished it already and threw it to the ground, laughing at how silly he was for forgetting. His head lolled further, until his forehead pressed into Leofric's warm cheek and his giggling breath tickled across his stubbled throat.

    He was oblivious for a moment: his mind swirled like an orbit and stars danced behind his eyelids. His mind wandered down some amusing track of thought, as it does in the moments before sleep, and he felt warm and good and wobbly all over. Soon, though he wasn't sure how long it took, Lannelise declared, "The Wine-King of Morrim shall lead us on, in all his wisdom, to new lands! Go forth, my lord!" Aniketos looked up to see her swoop down into a clumsy bow, which was imitated by Xanthus, while Rathurn struggled around in the dirt and threw himself in full prostration before Leofric, kissing his shoes.

    Aniketos gave his laughter up to the sky, and then thought of something, only to be almost unable to say it for all his amusement, "He's the king, and I'm his concubine!" He doubled over, and then managed a pose, his lips pursed, primping his hair, before losing himself to mirth again.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Leofric de Hollemark
    Member Avatar


    Raucous applause and laughter erupted as the nobleman finished his rather heroic draught - par for the course, he supposed. It seemed as though his words, meant as a dry jibe, rather tickled the sensibilities of the revellers - in his homeland, such words would have doubtless been received with horror, the only honourable reply would be a thrown gantlet or hood. No, here, the Sotoans gave retorts of laughter and lasciviousness, both Rathurn and Lannelise offering themselves - Leofric highly doubted that the latter was quite the maid she proclaimed. He had no interest in either, though the wine had heated his blood - he felt the stirrings in his loins, his breast. It had been some time - though he viciously suppressed the blooming memory, he could not quite face it.

    As the others wheeled away into the flowering hillside, both the Guildmaster and the nobleman stumbled towards one another. Leofric's gaze shifted, lost in the annals of his mind, desperately trying to turn the page. Their coming together was like a collision, and the antics of the others seemed to fall away from him. The man's hot breath brushed against his neck, and the page was turned, revealing only the fresh pasture of blank parchment. Instinctively, the nobleman's arm encircled the waist of the other and he pulled back his head, animated to peck the dense curls of the man's head, the drooping lobe of the ear..

    At once, he was disturbed by a further soused proclamation, and suddenly the crowd were at his feet. One was rather slovenly kissing the leathern of his boots - not something that Leofric would have recommended, given the mud they had churned and the sweat they had accumulated on his desperate ride to Reine and back. Nevertheless, he was powerless to halt their proceedings, instead he exhaled, and gave a chuckle. He felt Aniketos slip away from him, and turned to the man, only to be welcomed with words that were like a bolt from the blue.

    "He's the king, and I'm his concubine!"

    At this, their contact was broken as the Guildmaster howled with laughter, doubling over, and Leofric felt that an intent - even if not a conscious one - had been pierced by the man's jest. His mind whirred through the haze of the wine - indeed, it fuelled something within, melting away the chain of discomfort, or subservience and of cultural divide. Was this the so-called Sotoan Courage? A disparaging remark, nearly spat on the floors of the great halls back home by the old knights - but in the young man, it was a force most liberating. He was nothing if not socially adroit. He struck a pose, hands on his hips, and declared.

    "Aye! That you are! And its far past the hour of lovers!"

    With that, he stooped, and gathered the man over his shoulder, deaf to the howls of laughter and half-protests of the others. He made for the top of the hill, his steps heavy with the additional weight and grunting with the effort of ascension. His thighs bunched with every step, but soon they had crested the hill, where he unceremoniously dumped the Guildmaster on the ground. Light headed, flushed with drink and exertion, the nobleman could only smile between pants.

    "You were saying?"
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Aniketos
    Member Avatar
    Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.

    Aniketos saw what Leofric was about to do just a moment in advance, and he knew to play along. The Morrimian hauled him over the shoulder and the Guildmaster squealed and giggled and cried "Oh, my lord! So strong!", playing the part as well as a mummer. It didn't immediately occur to Aniketos that it wasn't a joke, though the others obviously knew, especially Rathurn, who leapt to his feet with some sort of incoherent protest.

    Leofric carried him up the hill, through the trees and flowers and dappled moonlight. The others didn't follow them. Lannelise waved cheekily and yelled, "Have fun!" and that's when Aniketos finally understood, in his drunken dimness, that the night had abruptly taken a different direction. He had fallen silent for a moment, and laughed at himself for not realising, and at how ridiculous it was to be carried off like a war bride. It seemed to Aniketos that, whenever he forgot to set his sights on some attractive individual, someone set his eyes on him, and surprised him out of his distraction. Those were the people he remembered best, the nights he enjoyed the most.

    Thus, when he was dumped on the ground, on a bed of clover at the bald crest of the hill, Aniketos was breathing harder as well, though of course not from exertion. He looked up at Leofric, honeyed eyes reflecting starlight, and smiled. He had forgotten to notice how handsome the man was; now he saw that he was the very image of a gallant knight from a tale of Morrim. That blonde hair, that noble face, those pale eyes, all gilt by the vivid silver of moonlight. Usually he was bent over some book, thus hiding his well-cut physique, or frowning at some annoyance, thus burying the radiant treasure of his smile, and Aniketos did not notice him. Now he could not take his eyes off him.

    Aniketos wriggled in the bed of clover, stretching his tingling back across the ground, bending his drunken limbs into place. He laid there, one arm folded above his head, hand in his curly halo of hair, the other hand grabbing at his own chest, which rose and fell with panted breath. He stretched his long neck, lips parted, contemplating Leofric under half-closed eyelids.

    "You were saying?"

    Aniketos' lips curved into a perfect bow of a smile. The hand on his chest strayed slowly down his body, like a deer creeping towards water. "That I am yours, my lord." Ah, this was the game he enjoyed. Often he found himself to be the one carrying off someone else, but once someone else conquered him, he wondered how it was that he could enjoy anything else in the world. He felt the delightful weight of Leofric's gaze and his hurried breath; it felt as if his authority pushed him to the sweet, cool ground and held him there. "I am here to do as you wish me to, lord," he purred.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Leofric de Hollemark
    Member Avatar


    His chest heaved over a thudding heart, the exertion giving his skin a sheen which shone in the moonlight. His lips were parted and his teeth bared in a half-bestial grin, and his eyes glinted with diamonds of lust. His senses were inflamed, he could taste the salt of sweat on his lips, and the moon gave the hilltop the aspect of silver and gold, as if shining from its own inherent value. His panting slowed, although his chest still heaved it lacked a certain sense of urgency. Excitement, tinged with anxiety, grew tall and fast as a summer crop within his chest, as his eyes considered the supinated man before him.

    The crops grew taller with every passing second, but they were entwined with a more noxious growth. As his excitement and lust reached for the heavens, trying to grasp at greatness, so his shame pulled on their stalks, weighed down their soaring progression. He swallowed heavily, eyes raking the gorgeous man before him, as two tides clashed within him, roaring in his ears. His head swam with the drink, his heart battered by indecision, and for the merest of rapid heartbeats and hissing breaths he felt as though he might drown.

    "That I am yours, my lord"

    With those words, purred from between the soft lips of the Guildmaster, he felt the ballast loose and fall from his spirit. There he was, writhing and willing. How often had he had a chance to indulge in thus? The last had been the stablehand on the frontier - they had shared their passion for horses, supped, and then shared their passions for one another. In Soto, he had opportunities enough, but if word got back to his father- he dared not to consider what would happen.

    Spurred on by the vision before him - the curly hair, the aquiline nose, the strong chin - he whipped his doublet from his body as if it were a banner that offended him. He gave little though to his half-nudity, nor to the carousing sounds and squalls of those they had left behind. He strode to the man, and crouched, his face hovering over that of the other. His eyes drank it in, every feature, his teeth still bared like a woodland predator with the scent of blood. He waited, and spoke, his tone soft as down.

    "And I yours. Show me what it means."

    Their lips touched.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    Aniketos
    Member Avatar
    Unter friedlichen Umständen fällt der kriegerische Mensch über sich selber her.

    In the moonlight Leofric's chest was pale as a rose; he even seemed to glow like some divine thing. Aniketos sat up and struggled his own shirt off his body, coming out the other end muss-haired and grinning. He fell back onto his elbows as Leofric swooped down. Their faces were close, their eyes met. He had pale eyes, though it was hard to tell in this light what precisely they were and Aniketos has never paid much mind before this night. But now he saw them blanched by the night, glinting with the moon-like reflection of Aniketos' pale face.

    ""And I yours. Show me what it means."

    "Yes," hissed Aniketos.

    Their lips touched.

    Aniketos popped his head away and grinned at Leo's shining eyes. "My lord," he said, spitting out some of the few Morrimian words he knew.

    They shivered down into kisses, and, his elbows getting sore, Aniketos sank back into the clover. Firm hands slipped over Leofric's body, gripping at the smooth flesh over his waist, his ribs, up his back. Finally one hand tangled with the hair on the back of his head and another squeezed at his firm buttock. They pressed against each other, warm flesh to warm flesh, knees between legs, panting.

    Aniketos pulled away, opening his eyes and breathing for a moment, his hand wandering fro Leofric's backside towards the front of his body, awkward though the angle was. "Someone's enthusiastic," he said with a breathy smile as his hips rolled up involuntarily. He put lips and teeth to Leofric's sunk into his mannish smell, and then when he needed to breathe again, he slipped his pants off and kicked them off his ankles.
    (OFFLINE) PROFILE QUOTE GO TO TOP
     
    1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
    ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
    ZetaBoards gives you all the tools to create a successful discussion community.
    Learn More · Register for Free
    « Previous Topic · Roleplays · Next Topic »

    affiliates


    Join us on Facebook!
    Join/follow our deviantArt group!

    Vote for Us and Check Out Our Listings!
    RPGfix Total Drama Website - The Best Role-Play Sites Top RPG Sites Top RP Sites
    RPG-D Seductive Directory
    Nerd Listings

    Affiliates
    'Souls RPG Warden's Vigil: A Dragon Age Roleplaying Community Black & White
    Tales of Illyria Tir Dearthair The Games

    Beyond the Fall
    Edolon

    Word Counter provided by Fission

    Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]