Trial of Kings (literate medieval fantasy) Closed

[Kadorix]

Tнεσ Aℓℓαnαя∂

The King of Esedi

⊱ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ♔ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ⊰

King Allanard watched in silence as Harmon handled his gem magic. It was always a treat to see the man work, and such magic would be useful for the challenges ahead. It didn’t seem as though any champion had trouble with the given stone, and once the task was completed Harmon had scurried off to his quarters. He wasn’t surprised at all, though made a note to check on his servant later to hear what he thought of these champions. The wizard’s counsel was always appreciated, though it would have to wait for later. Besides, he supposed there was all sorts of mysterious work to be done with the stones.

His attention turned back to the group gathered before him. Lord Flykisson hardly seemed worried about things, though King Allanard wondered what was on the big man’s mind. The man’s champion had yet to be introduced, though the lad seemed a green fighter. Big to be sure, and he could see why Lord Flykisson might pick the boy. It would be interesting to see how the youngster would fair against the others.

It was Lord De’Trycin who stepped forward first to speak, and introduce the monstrosity that had walked through Castle Duran’s gates. Oh yes, the king had been alerted at once when the beast had lumbered in. The castle guards had been terrified to see the scaled creature step through the halls, and it was a surprise that no weapons had been drawn yet. Perhaps the creature could be reasoned with enough to permit a moment of civilized conversation, though he thought. Why Lord De’Trycin picked this lizard over another, the king wasn’t sure. Strength? Something completely unexpected? He frowned as the lord spoke, listening on to the strange words. It was honorable of the lord to give such creatures a chance, though whether or not the beast would fully appreciate the opportunity he could hardly guess.

He couldn’t help but be surprised when the creature opened its mouth to speak. Though crude in voice and vocabulary, D’kath certainly made a clear point: the challenge would not be easy. Still, strength didn’t have to be the answer to his challenge, but at least the creature had some sense. It would be especially intriguing to see how this terror of the swamps would fair against more civilized competition.

”I thank you, Lord De’Trycin for introducing your champion. May he do well in this challenge, and bring respect to his kind as well as all of Edenmoor.” He bowed his head to both the lord and his lizard, before continuing down the line.
The champion of Shahszhan was a curious sight, though in a far different way from Edenmoor’s choice. King Allanard hadn’t expected a female to make her way into the challenge, but the desert people held many surprises. Rather than introduce his champion, Lord Na’Bahanagad simply left with the girl in tow. To each their own, he supposed, though he would make sure to ask the desert lord later on his choice. The man hardly seemed interested in being drawn to Castle Duran in the first place, so what ran through his mind? Whether he had come to ensure the steady peace between Shahszhan and the rest of Esedi or for his own interests, the king could not say. Thankfully the man had listened to his orders and brought forth a champion to participate.

After the Shahszhani had left, Lord Strenville spoke up to introduce his choice in champion. The lord of Tishtar was a serious, though well meaning, sort and King Allanard was pleased to have the man brought from the ocean region. His choice in champion, Elias Orvalles, was a curious one indeed. He leaned forward in his chair and looked the boy over. No shoes, no muscle. How peculiar. Still, the lad seemed to carry a positive outlook on things, clear enough by his proud boast for Tishtar. There seemed to be some charm in the young man, perhaps some brain hidden in there somewhere. So as long as he remembers to bring his wits about them over his shoes.

”I am sure you will do Tishtar proud, my dear boy” he replied to Elias, nodding his head. His attention shifted back to Lord Strenville. ”But of course. I am sure there is much to be discussed as quickly as possible. You are free to go as you please.”

Finally his tired eyes rested upon the young Lord Hæarnson of Fovoham. He trusted the boy, despite some rumors about him. He had proved his loyalty to Esedi many times, even in the war with Shahszhan. He couldn’t help but have some pride in the lord, and hoped he wouldn’t be too stressed by the challenge ahead. He watched the lord speak quietly with his champion, a young knight that King Allanard unfortunately did not recognize. The boy didn’t seem at all happy with standing in the great hall, and to some degree he couldn’t blame the lad. This was a mighty burden to bear for one’s region, but such a task must be carried out with dignity and bravery. It was an honor to serve for Esedi’s good, and the sooner the champions accepted this fate the easier it would be to carry the burden. He couldn’t hear what the pair was discussing, though murmuring to one another was hardly the sort of thing to be done in the hall.
”Lord Hæarnson, if you would please introduce your champion to the court I would be most appreciative.” He gave the lord a gently smile, and waved a hand towards him. ”I am sure you both have much to discuss as well, perhaps in the privacy of your own quarters. Though I cannot help but be curious on this lad you’ve brought before us.”

[black_wyvern]

J...E...R...E...N.........S...T...R...E...N...V...I...L...L...E
__________________________________________________
L.....o.....r.....d..........o.....f..........T.....i.....s.....h.....t.....a.....r

Having been given leave by the king, Jeren left the main hall with Elias in tow. He walked a short ways down the corridor before stopping and turning to face his champion. They were still within sight of the entrance to the king’s hall, though quite out of earshot of anyone else exiting. Jeren did not feel the need to converse behind closed doors; there was really nothing he had to say that needed to remain secret.

“You conducted yourself quite appropriately before the king.” It didn’t sound like much of a compliment, especially when spoken in Jeren’s usual curt manner, but it was actually quite a generous comment by his standards. “Your words seemed well-received.” Initially Jeren had been a little worried that Elias might ramble if given the opportunity to speak. The man had previously demonstrated his way with words when Jeren had first met him; in fact he’d demonstrated it for a good deal longer than Jeren would have liked. Thankfully he’d kept his composure in front of the king.

“I will not dissuade you from speaking with the other champions.” Jeren went on, now thinking of his champion’s rather friendly greeting to the other competitors. “However, you must remain cautious around them. Some will undoubtedly see you as an obstacle to be removed from their path.” He did not bother to spell out what could happen if he let his guard down around the other champions. Elias should be smart enough to know what the danger in that would be. “That being said, it would be wise not to make enemies of any of them. Depending on how events play out here in the castle, alliances may become necessary in the future.”

“As the exact locations of the relics are unknown, there is little we can do in terms of planning.” There was a note of irritation in Jeren’s voice at those words. Not being able to plan out detailed strategies for retrieving each relic bothered him, especially when he was sending someone out to risk their life. Nor was he terribly fond of the idea of Esedi’s next king being chosen by a method which left so much to chance. "All I can tell you are the names of the objects you will be searching for." Jeren proceeded to list the names of the five relics. "Each of the relics are linked to one of the five regions. For example, I am sure you've heard stories of Fanoram's lyre back home. The other four relics will likely be known of through similar tales in their respective regions."

“I am willing to leave the choice of which region to begin your search in up to you, though I suggest you avoid Edenmoor and Shaszhan if possible. Those regions will be most hazardous in terms of environment, and the native inhabitants will likely be less than welcoming to outsiders. The other champions all seem to be trained in combat and will likely excel in overcoming physical challenges, so your best option will be to use your head and locate the relics before the others reach them. It may be useful to hire some protection in case you cannot avoid confrontations with other champions, as well as for safety while on the road.” Taking another look at his champion’s attire, he added, “It may also do you some good to invest in a sturdy pair of boots.” Anyone who knew him well would have recognized the dry comment as being the closest Jeren ever came to making a joke.

“Unfortunately that is the extent of the advice I can offer. While your journey will no doubt take you to remote places, I expect you will send me reports on your progress when possible. I would be interested in hearing any concerns or other input you may have concerning the trials. Otherwise, you are free to leave whenever you wish.”

[Insensibility]

As she lifted her head, a voice keenly familiar filled her ears and Akila turned to look past her shoulder to see a cloaked figure standing just a few feet away. The tattered fabric, armored helm, and short stature were an immediate giveaway to the creature’s identity and her smile broadened as a wave of realization washed over her, “Aahsz…” she cooed amiably, her Ferlizian accent draped heavily upon each syllable, “The roahds hahve been kind to me by ahllowing us to meeht once more. Praise Zu'Ular.” From her kneeling position in the grass she rose to greet the plucky lizard formally; she outstretched one hand for him to shake and the other unabashedly lifted the helm hiding Azelton’s face. To her delight, a pair of golden eyes, not too much unlike her own, looked back at Aki; she gently allowed the helm to fall over his face once more, “I ahm sorry, I just hahd to be sure.”

Their meeting in the past was upon a different road, in a different land, and while they failed to share purpose in their travels within Fovoham years ago, their ability to relate to one another transcended the mere physical differences between them. Despite the peace between the region of Shahszhan and the rest of Esedi, a Shahszhani traveler was still often times seen as an unwelcome guest and treated as such. Akila’s business in Fovoham was to deliver a message to one of the lesser noble families, but rather than being invited into the family’s compound after completing her task, she was dismissed brusquely. It had been impossible for her to find an inn, a tavern, or even a commoner’s house that was willing to put her up for the night. Malikah-al-Layl carried her many miles down the road, leading back towards Shahszhan, when they came across a large wooden wagon at a standstill due to a cracked axel. She commanded her mount to halt just long enough to see a short, rust-scaled creature waddle out from behind the wagon—and while she was taken aback by Azelton’s appearance at first, that did not stop her aiding the merchant in repairing the axel. As payment for her help, Az offered her and Malikah a safe place to rest and Akila happily obliged as the skies darkened. And rather than setting off in different directions the next morning, the pair traveled together for some time: exchanging stories; sharing which roads were safest to travel; and generally enjoying one another’s company. For, unfortunately, Esedi is a most unforgiving place to those who are different and Az and Akila both bore the brunt of that reality.

From her place beneath the tree, Malikah al-Layl whinnied softly, prompting Akila to unlash her reins and take them into her hands. She coaxed the mare along, back out onto the road, and began meandering towards the lizard man’s wagon stationed close to the castle’s walls. She was sure to keep her pace relaxed so as to not leave Az behind. While he was a kind lizard, he wasn’t the quickest upon his feet.

The dual knives fastened to the belt slung lazily about her hips clanged together softly as she placed one foot in front of the other, “I did not ehxpect to see a fahmiliar fahce myself, but it does not surprise me. The whispers of Ehsedi’s common folk no doubt led you here.”” Akila and Azelton also shared the ability to glean important information from their conversations with people, so it came as no shock to see him at Castle Duran. With her next sentence, however, her voice became hushed hopefully inspiring the lizard man to listen carefully, “My Zashik hahs been summoned here, but I ahm unsure as to why. His sehcond Zasha ahccompanied him here, as well.” Beneath the crimson fabric of her mask, Akila’s lips pressed firmly together in an expression of doubt, “It worries me thaht they are so fahr ahway from our land and surrounded by those thaht think them animahls.” A small puff of air escaped her nostrils as that burning sensation returned to the pit of her stomach; Akila resolved to aid her Zashik and Zasha in any way that they saw fit.

It did not please Akila to lament upon worrisome topics of conversation, so she moved quickly onto something else entirely, “Aahsz, I would like your opinion on something…,” she began, removing her red lensed goggles from her brow and offering them down to Az for inspection, “I ahcquired them at mahrket in Ha’Akram. The peddler told me they are from Crahsus—are they any good?

- - -

Akila speaks in Shahszhani
Akila speaks in Esedi
Company: her mount, Malikah al-Layl; Azelton the Merchant
Where: a road leading to Castle Duran, Goldvale

[tim heidecker]

CHAMPION OF TISHTAR ❖ elias orvalles
█║sunlight over me no matter what i do


As he followed his Lord into the corridor, Elias dwelled on the King’s words— surprisingly kind, considering both the man’s position and his stern appearance, and they’d bolstered Eli’s confidence tenfold. To find Lord Strenville’s approval as well as the two of them came to a halt was no small accomplishment, and Tishtar’s champion found himself struggling for just a moment to regain his composure despite his excitement. He managed a quiet “Thank you, sir,” as not to test the other man’s patience as he might have in the past.

Elias noted his Lord’s prudence in his suggestion regarding the other champions, reflecting again on the vague sort of ‘threat rankings’ he’d assigned the lot initially: by no means an accurate measure of his competitors’ skills or demeanor, as Eli had only paid them the slightest of mind in the King’s presence, but enough to determine who he would and would not mind sharing a candlelit dinner with, at least. Crasus’s champion seemed the most harmless of the lot— built with power, to be sure, but not outwardly hostile. The man from Fovoham, on the other hand, seemed exceptionally … grumpy. And small. This combination of traits amused Elias to no end, though he he reminded himself not to underestimate the knight’s strength and presumed training. He found himself torn on Shahszhan’s chosen representative— on one hand, she was gorgeous and intriguing, two qualities that would place her squarely at the top of Eli’s “would share a candlelit dinner with” list, but on the other hand? She was utterly intimidating, and surely a skilled warrior to be chosen by Shahszhan’s Zashik. D’kath of Edenmoor, of course, was the most terrifying of Eli’s fellow champions. Even still, he was entirely fascinated by the lizardman and his culture. Whatever the ‘Great Hunt’ was, it led Eli to musing on just how fantastic the stories of D’kath’s tribe must be.

His thoughts returned to the challenge itself when Jeren addressed the relics and their associated risks. Simple enough, Eli thought: see the world, learn its stories and find its treasures! He remained silent for a short time after Tishtar’s Lord finished his briefing, pondering the comment regarding footwear for a bit longer than necessary. Eli was still entirely unaware that his lack thereof had so impacted the impression given to those assembled in the King’s hall. As such, unfortunately, the comment was lost on him; he attributed his Lord’s suggestion to some particularly troublesome terrain ahead of which he was not yet aware.

After his moment of reflection, Eli spoke: “Of course, my Lord— I will send correspondence whenever there is a courier capable of delivering it! Your counsel is most appreciated, and my only concern is that I may not bring you along should I require more of it in my travels.”

The champion paused for a moment more, raising a hand to scratch at the hairs of his chin as if pondering. When the man spoke again, his tone of voice and expression seemed marginally different— both seemed only slightly less formal. One might assume that his next few words to his Lord were spoken as Eli might speak to a friend.

“Ahh, on the topic of travel: have you visited Esedi’s different lands, Lord Strenville? I’d thought I might send a souvenir or two along with my reports! … If you’d be interested in such a thing, I mean.”

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

Goldvale Knight Fovoham Champion

Rzhavard saw the hand move, looking to make sure it wasn't moving to strike him before he raised a curious eyebrow. He'd been required to remove his rapiers at the door, why hadn't the lord? The knight himself was extremely uncomfortable without the familiar weight on his sides, yet here was the noble just gripping his sword casually. With a sigh he looked forward once more, waiting to remove himself from this room. The faster they could get the introductions over with the faster Rzhavard could not only get his swords but pretend to get started on this ourney.

"and I was not reared by serpents.”

The muscle's in the man's face twitched at the comment, blue eyes turning back towards the Crasus champion, "Some quite literally compared to others." he murmured, the barest hint of a laugh in his voice. Look at him, making a joke despite how terribly he hated his situation. He lived for these moments, but the Fovohamian lord was ruining it for him, continuing with his talk.

"I am quite adverse to the notion of ’favors’."

Then the gentleman could consider it out of the kindness of Rzhavard's heart that he wasn't going to out them. There was really no reason for him to, and in all honesty the current situation wasn't as bad as it could be, at least at the moment. He could stand at attention all day, he did so in basic training. He'd face the more serious events of the situation when he arrived at them. If he worried too much then he'd kill himself, best to take thing in stride and ignore the fact they're happening until they threaten to lob off a limb. He valued his limbs.

”I suggest the next time I question you plainly, that you do not answer me with the belief that I have any time for ambiguous banter and simply cut to the point.”

"Normally when I give 'ambiguous banter,' my superior officers eventually stop listening or cut me off. You're a very patient man to have listened all the way through. That's an admirable trait." Normally he truly didn't talk so much, but with a new person he could blabber a little bit. Most of his officers were already aware of the game the city guard played. It was unfortunate. Rzhavard wasn't allowed to have any fun. It was unfortunate. What was he to do when he couldn't harass officers or force the younger soldiers to do work for him?

Ugh.

Please Alasdair, please shut your jabbering sound-hole. or at least direct it to someone else. Considering how he scolded the knight for 'ambiguous banter' he was sure one to babble and babble and babble away. He was worse than women, or the constant clucking of chickens. it took a good amount of willpower to not audibly groan and roll his eyes. Yes, yes he was going to ******** survive because he didn't want to die. Yes he was a miserable fool but that didn't mean he was just going to rush in without a plan and nearly kill himself.

"I don't see how we'd get treason, but politics isn't my game it's yours. My game is 'be fodder for the opposing army.'" and listened, nodding. Rzhavard could agree to that. Make it look like he was participating in the games. He opened his mouth to agree to this but the King's voice rang out with the Fovoham Lord's name. The knight stood straight and looked forward again, turning his eyes downward to feign guilt. The king's question made him give a low snort, one only audible to Alasdair, and the build eyes looked away from his Lord, forcing his face to stay near-neutral, eyebrows raised slightly to show he was indeed laughing, even inwardly.

What was there to know about this lad? He didn't want to be here, he was forced here, he wasn't the true champion, he was going to impersonate the real champion.

Let's not even delve into his military history.

Go on, Alasdair, let's see how sharp your serpent tongue was.

[Kadorix]

Azεℓτσn τнε Mεяcнαnτ
Lizardfolk ☀ Wanderer ☀ Pan Enthusiast

The lizard’s grin widened as the Shahszhani woman recognized him. It had been so long since he had last seen Akila, and humans could be so forgetful. But not her, oh no. He bowed his head gently at the mention of Zu’Ular. The spirits of the desert were not of his belief (nor any deity really), but he nevertheless showed respect. ”Indeed they have. Of all the places, here!” He chuckled again as he took her hand gently to shake, mindful of his claws. He didn’t mind the woman lifting his helm to see, knowing full well that his appearance was one to be enjoyed by his company. She was one of the few humans who openly welcomed him and his scales, rather than cautiously accept. It was pleasant to be in such company, where appearances and the past were left behind. To the two, they were only travelers, similar kin making their way down the road. ”I do not mind, yes, though I fear my scales have aged a fair bit since our last encounter.”

He followed Akila back towards his cart, waddling as fast as the short legs could carry him. How polite indeed for the woman to wait for him, but of course neither of them seemed to be in any rush. ”Yes, the towns have been whispering about the king coming to Castle Duran and the lords of the realm soon after. Most curious, yes.” A rare thing, though not completely unheard of, but he hadn’t expected Akila to be drawn here as well. Had such whispers of the road brought her here into Goldvale?

He tilted his head as he listened to her explanation. ”Ah, so the rumors are true then. Curious, curious.” He could see the concern in her eyes, and placed a gentle claw on her arm. ”Trust, my dear Aki. They are strong, and you are here now to provide more watching eyes, yes.” He couldn’t blame the woman for being worried about her lord, but Azelton trusted the King. He had served long and well, and he doubted old Allanard would let anything terrible befall any lords within his presence. As for the other lords…Well, he could not say how they reacted. Different rumors reached his ears on the road, some less savory than others and even he had to question some of their behaviors. But this was nothing to tell his friend, lest he make her worry more.

He perked up, more than happy to turn their attention to a less worrisome topic. ”Yes, how may I be of assistance?” He raised his helm up, gold eyes peeking out at the curious item: a pair of goggles, certainly not of Shahszhan. Azelton grabbed them gently in his claws, holding them close to observe the lenses. ”Yes, yes…Crasus seems about right. Something designed by one of their bright minds, yes?” He turned the goggles over, checking the quality of the band holding them together. ”Used by some of their researchers, yes. Protects the eyes, useful for the desert too hm? Good quality, yes, and a fairly rare find. I’m surprised one of them dared to part with it!” He laughed and handed the goggles back to their owner. ”They look similar to a pair I found on a fine information hunter when I last visited Crasus. The strap is strong, yes, durable. It should last, especially with good care.”


Traveler's Log
☀ L o c a t i o n : Outside Castle Duran, Goldvale
☀ C o m p a n y : Akila

[wickedlittlecritta]

Tjorvi Flykisson
Lord of Crasus

Tjorvi had had plans to properly present Cole to the king, but the baffled look on the youth's face made him rethink that idea. The poor boy looked so confused that Tjorvi didn't imagine he'd make the best impression.

Not the worst, probably, but it wouldn't be very fair to him either way.

He might be a bit slow on the uptake, but that was no reason to invite scorn on his young friend. All the more reason to protect him from it, if he could.

While the king's attention was on Fovoham's bickering lord and champion (Why on earth had Lord Hæarnson chosen someone he clearly couldn't get along with for his champion? Tjorvi wondered), Tjorvi waved Cole over. Draping an arm over Cole's shoulders, he steered the younger man out of the hallway. He'd make excuses later. So terribly, terribly sorry, your Majesty, but gosh, those relics were just so interesting! In his rush to explain more to his champion, social graces had quite gone out of his head.

Sounded like something he'd do. Definitely believable.

"So," he said, once they were in the hall, arms still around Cole's shoulders as he tried to find a spot far enough away from the little Tishtar party to avoid being over heard, "Did you get all of that, or would you like me to go over it all again?"

[Sovereign-Sama]

Cole Forrester, the Champion of Crasus

"I think I get the idea," Cole replied somberly. "I have to go get some important stuff, bring it back, try not to die. That about cover it?"

Despite the simplicity of his reply, Cole's mind was still somewhat reeling. He had certainly not expected to get involved in this insanity. Magic? Kings? Treasure hunts? This was just like all those stories the other youth of his region used to love, while he was content to just keep working and learning.

Cole had faith in his own skills. He had trained hard, built up his physical strength and combative skill for the sole purpose of defending his home when no one else was able. He had spent so much time on it, in fact, that it was all he really knew anymore. Fighting, traveling, training... This was his reality. He was content with it. Things hadn't always been easy, but they never were anyway. His father had always told him it didn't matter what he decided to do with himself, so long as he was willing to work for it. The first time he had taken up a sword, it had felt so comfortable in his hand... It hadn't taken him long to decide that the life of a warrior was a good one. It was hard, dangerous, often bloody and grim, but it was honest. He had saved many villages and towns when traveling as a mercenary, helped a lot of people and put down a lot of bad ones... But he had never expected his skills to get him into this mess.

Cole wasn't a simpleton... He was simple, yes, but only in his desires. He didn't want for anything except the basic neccessities, he didn't need anything except honest work to keep himself going. He wasn't the most educated guy, or the cleverest, or the most talented... Yet he found himself involved in things way over his head.

Cole sighed heavily, shifting uncomfortably under his patron's arm. Tjorvi was one of the few men who matched him in size, and it was unusual to be manhandled in such a way. It reminded him of his father when he was still just a kid, though this nobleman was a far more energetic and enthusiastic person.

"I don't understand how I'm expected to find these relic things though, Mi'lord" Cole continued in his usual respectful tone. "We weren't told where to go, or even what exactly we were looking for... Are they magic?" He remembered the small glowing crystal and the ominous man who had taken them somewhere within the castle, and a single small bead of sweat appeared on his brow. He didn't know why, but encountering something unknown like that made him very uneasy. Would he have to deal with more things like that on his journey?

[TailoredPetunias]

𝕬lecard 𝕯e'ℑrycin
⇝⇝⇝⇝⇝⇝⇝Lord of Edenmoor⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜

Alec couldn’t help the smug grin from spreading across his face as D’Kath spoke. He hadn’t really expected the lizardman to speak, but was pleased when he did so. The creature kept It short and succinct, but his word’s still conveyed a sense of superiority, something Alecard also appreciated. Overall, the introduction went as well as Lord De’Trycin could have hoped. His eyes shifted to watch as the Shahszhani Lord leaned forward, whispering something to his champion.

He found it amusing how so many of those present tensed up as the people of Shahszhan began to move, it wasn’t surprising that the memory of war with the desert barbarians was still fresh in people’s minds. He let his gaze follow as the trio removed themselves from the hall without a word. How peculiar. It was not a move he himself would have advised, but this Isshinenga character had managed to pique his curiosity and Alec found himself interested in speaking to the man directly at some point in the near future. He set any further speculation aside, however, as Lord Strenville stepped forward and introduced the champion from Tishtar. The boy spoke up afterwards and it took a considerable amount of effort for Alec not to scoff as he wished the other champions luck. Lord De’Trycin had made it this far in life thanks in part to his ability to read others, and he had no doubt the boy’s words were genuine; which was all the more reason to pity the fool. This was not a game of niceties, the young champion was naïve and obviously in over his head.

His attention returned to King Allanard. Alec lowered his head response to his liege’s words. “My thanks Your Highness. Now, if you’ll excuse us, D’Kath must get prepared for the journey ahead, and I wish to share counsel with him before he departs.” He turned to offer his remaining counterparts and their representatives a much more shallow nod before letting his eyes settle on D’Kath. ”I believe we are done here. Come.” Lord De’Trycin turned with another flare of his cloak and strode purposefully from the hall, not bothering to look back, trusting that the lizardman would fall in behind him. As he moved, Alec heard Lord Haernson began to speak, it appeared the man had finally decided to end his little spat with his morose champion and introduce the man. Well, better late than never.

Alecard kept a consistent pace until they were back in his temporary quarters. Though not as spacious as his own back in Edenmoor, the rooms he had been provided with were more than adequate, especially since they were no furnished with a few of his own belongings. As he took a seat behind the desk, a young page moved over and silently presented a bottle of wine. Alec barely glanced at it before waving absentmindedly. Taking the cue, the boy deftly uncorked the bottle and began filling a chalice. Alec eyed the beast standing across from him, his wolfish eyes never leaving D’Kath’s as he reached for the filled cup that was placed before him. He took a long drink before setting the cup back down, a predatory smile spreading across his lips as he leaned back in the chair, bringing his elbows to rest on the arms, fingers steepled before his face.

”Well done in there. Really, I couldn’t imagine it going any better; short of the king cutting to the chase and pronouncing me heir then and there. Still,” He shrugged casually, hands spreading apart giving the impression that it mattered little to him. ”All in due time.” His smile faded to a sliver of a smirk and Alec leaned forward once more. ”I’m sure you’re anxious to get this… hunt over with and return to the swamps of my region so I will be brief. Do your best to avoid conflict with the general populace of Esedi. If said conflict is unavoidable then be sure to resolve it quickly and quietly. Do not leave any evidence behind.” The smirk was still present on his face, but his eyes were hard and without mirth. “I’m sure that shouldn’t be a problem for you.” He paused to take another drink of wine.

Alec let his eyes fall away from his champion as he picked up the quill-pen lying on his desk. Lightly dipping the tool in the ink jar, he began to write upon a piece of parchment as he continued to speak. ”I must warn you that I am a man who finds failure unacceptable. In return for your presence here, I have graciously granted the Tribe more of my land to hunt through. But, understand this.” The Lord of Edenmoor placed the quill down and rose from his seat, bracing himself against the desk as he leaned forward, the smirk completely gone, “If you fail to return with at least three of those relics, I will reclaim the land I have allowed your people to use. And I mean all of it.”

He held the beast’s gaze with his own. Alec knew it was risky to behave so aggressively with the lizardman but he hadn’t become the man he was today by playing things safely. After a few moments, he straightened, withdrawing his hands from the desk. ”But, succeed and I shall be crowned King. And I am very, very kind to those who prove their value. Bring me three relics and you, along with the Tribe, will be generously rewarded. Hunting grounds rich with prey, access to not only Edenmoor goods, but everything Esedi herself has to offer. And you, D’Kath, as the instrument who brought all this about, will be hailed hero by the Tribe, a hunter exceeded only by Ka’reth himself.” Lord De’Trycin finished his wine and held the chalice out to the side, the page suddenly there once more to fill it before slinking back to the shadows of the far wall. His smile returned, though this time devoid of any malice. ”You’re free to take your leave now. I’m sure you must be eager to depart from the stony confinement of this castle. One of my men outside will see to it that you are provided with anything you might need.” Taking a drink of wine, Alec reclaimed his seat, retrieved the discared quill, and began writing once more.

”Oh and D’Kath,” He added, not bothering to look up from his work. ”If any of the other champions get in your way, kill them.”


"The greatest power lies not in money but in politics. Though money helps."
Location: Personal Quarters, Castle Duran
Company: D'Kath LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

[General Phade]

❂Isshinenga Na'Bahanagad❂
INDENT+1Zashik of Shahszhan

The Zashik watched as his chosen champion took his words in stride. He had half expected her to grow angry with him for his jabs at her people, but she instead seemed saddened, as if it truly did shame her that her tribe had been part of something that had led to Shaszhan's subjugation.

Good. It was a solid reason for her to compete, and compete fiercely.

"You will have to travel these foreign lands and listen to the words of their people. That we were told nothing of these relics suggests they will be exceedingly difficult to find, but also that they are likely something of legend." He lowered his gaze for a moment, eyebrows knitting together as he lost himself in thought. "I know there is such a myth in our own lands, but the details elude me." He looked to his wife, but she only shook her head. "I would suggest you leave that for another champion to waste his time with; it is unlikely any in Shahszhan, and especially those of the ruling family, will have any love for a pale-face foolish enough to set foot upon the sands. Explore the other lands at your own discretion, but remember--we are here to protect Shahszhan. Above all else, your life included, that is your priority." He waited for her acknowledgement before uttering his command: "Go."

When at last she had gone, Isshin sighed. "If I knew I would be playing a living game of Hougo, I'd have brought Zanubiya along, as well. But enough talk of war and games." He stood and turned, holding his hand out to his wife to help her to her feet. "We would do well to learn our way around this place."

She took his hand, and once he'd taken up his spear, they left the dark rooms of stone.

In the short time between their initial arrival at Castle Duran and this day their champions were to be presented, Isshin and his wife had done little exploring of their new temporary home. They hardly left their rooms but to eat and to pray, the latter of which often brought them to the gardens. At both dusk and dawn, the times of sacred prayers, there was a calmness about the place, one they had agreed immediately was a sign of their gods that they were still seen, still protected and guided.
It was also the one place where the stares and dark looks were significantly fewer. Not like where they had no ended up.

In their wanderings they had become turned around, and instead of arriving in the gardens they found themselves the spectators of a series of sparring matches. Across the way, a warrior met challenges from others of his kind, taunting them as he easily swatted them aside like the flies that buzzed around camels back home. Isshin watched for only a few matches, growing more disinterested with each pathetic display. But when he tried to leave, his hand caught on his wife's her fingers laced together with his, and her gaze fixed upon the spectacle. Her eyes glittered not with fear, but with curiosity.

The Zashik dared to give another light tug on her hand, but she held firm. Those eys flitted to the side long enough to catch his gaze, and at the light in them, he melted. With a nod, the Zashik took a seat in the grass, seated with crosseed legs, folded arms, his spear to his left, and his wife, hands neatly folded in her lap as she watched the display, to his right.

So much for moving past games and war.

[black_wyvern]

J...E...R...E...N.........S...T...R...E...N...V...I...L...L...E
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L.....o.....r.....d..........o.....f..........T.....i.....s.....h.....t.....a.....r

Jeren waited patiently as his champion took a moment to think. He did not mind waiting; the man certainly had much to think about. The king’s challenge was no simple task, and it would certainly not be over quickly. It would only be natural for someone finding themselves in such a situation to be hesitant, though if Elias had any doubts he did a very good job of hiding them. As he replied, he sounded quite confident and did not voice any concerns. Jeren was glad to hear him agree so readily to sending regular reports on his progress, though he was a bit puzzled by the man’s comment about wishing he could bring him along on his travels.

Obviously it couldn’t be meant literally. Jeren supposed it was meant as some sort of compliment; an expression of trust in his region’s lord perhaps? People often said such things to him, despite not really meaning them, simply because of his title as lord, though most learned quite quickly that empty flattery did not work with him. If anything, it only lowered his opinion of them. In this case though, Jeren suspected Elias was sincere in valuing his opinion.

While overthinking Elias’ lighthearted comment, Jeren noticed the lord of Crasus and his champion exit the great hall. It seemed the other lords were beginning to split off and converse with their champions privately, though a few apparently still remained in the hall. He had to wonder why they had not yet left when all they needed to do was introduce their champion to the king. But then, most of the nobility seemed incapable of brevity. They rarely said anything in two words if they could do so in four; a fact that had caused him no end of exasperation over the years.

Jeren turned his attention back to his champion. Elias had seemed to be considering something carefully before he began to speak, and so Jeren expected him to voice a concern or bring up some important topic related to the trial. Instead, he was caught off guard by his champion asking about souvenirs of all things.

Though too controlled to let his surprise show, he did raise an eyebrow slightly at the unexpected question. In fact, had he not met Elias previously, Jeren would have seriously wondered whether he was taking the whole situation seriously after such a comment. As it was, he still wondered if the gravity of the situation had really sunk in yet for his champion. However, Elias seemed to be one of those unfathomably sociable people that Jeren had never understood; the type who could happily stand around talking for hours without actually discussing anything of consequence. He was quite certain the man’s comment was the result of his outgoing nature and not of a lack of consideration for the serious nature of the trials.

“I have little time for travel” he answered. While Elias might have relaxed his manner slightly, Jeren’s remained as stiff and formal as ever. “And I have little need for trinkets.” He realized his answer might have sounded a bit sharp, and while he normally would not have cared, Jeren had been making an effort to be as cordial as he could manage with his champion. He was sending the man, who had not even volunteered, off on a long and dangerous quest. He felt he at least owed Elias the courtesy of a little extra patience, and so he added “However, I am sure your friends and family would greatly appreciate tokens of your travels, as it may be some time before you are reunited.”

In the interest of shifting the conversation back to more official matters, Jeren rather quickly changed the subject. “I believe you have all of the information necessary to begin the trial now. However, if you wish to learn something more of your competitors, I suggest you approach them before you leave the castle. The king has clearly stated there is to be no violence within the castle walls; there is no such promise beyond them. While a certain amount of haste will be needed during the trials, spending the time necessary to properly prepare for your mission is crucial. Be sure you have all that you need and are truly ready before you depart the castle.”

“Unless you have further questions, I will leave you to prepare.” Though he didn’t say it aloud, it was clear he only wanted to hear more questions if they were solely about the trial. “I wish you success in the trials ahead.” He chose to say ‘success’ instead of wishing his champion luck, as the concept of luck was nothing more than superstition as far as Jeren was concerned. Still, he did truly hope that events would turn out favourably for his champion.

[Kadorix]

Tнεσ Aℓℓαnαя∂

The King of Esedi

⊱ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ♔ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ⊰

King Allanard caught sight of Lord Tjorvi and his champion hastily leaving the hall, and for a moment he wondered where the Crasus man was going. Was another lord leaving him without an introduction? He couldn’t blame the lords for their excitement in getting their chosen champions prepared, and only hoped the man would give him some sort of information by the end of the day. His attention, however, returned back to the Fovoham pair still before him. Thankfully the two had quieted their private conversation at his interruption. They are quick to react. It will serve them well.

He folded his hands upon his lap and gazed at the two, patiently waiting for the introduction. The king looked the young knight before him up and down, judging his appearance. Short, yes, perhaps lacking in muscle compared to the boy from Crasus, but such things could be countered with speed. Rzhavard Nalaenir? He frowned slightly, puzzled at the name. It had a familiar ring to it, but where? If he was of Fovoham, perhaps he had participated in one of the tournaments. Those names did blur together, and he had a harder time distinguishing one year’s winners from the next. My age is getting the better of me. He pushed that thought away with the nod of his head, and relaxed his expression.

”Well Ser Nalaenir, I am sure you will do Fovoham well. Esedi needs good knights to serve her, and I look forward to see your training being put to the test.” Hopefully the lad would be excited at the opportunity to serve his kingdom. Certainly he had when he was back at the Academy, and how his sons had when it was their turn. Lord Haearnson at the very least seemed excited and proud to show off his champion to the throne. That was better than some had, who scurried off to talk alone. Ah well. There was plenty of time for talk when the champions were off to seek the relics. What was another hour or two?

”I wish you both the best of luck in this challenge. You are dismissed from here and may talk in the comfort of your own quarters, if it suits you better. The others, it seems, have already done so.”

[Insensibility]

It was a joyance to observe the agreeable lizard assess the quality of her goggles—beneath his unassuming appearance he was wise in what was valuable and what wasn’t. As he held the item closer, to inspect the lenses, Akila briefly thought back to when she’d purchased them. Their acquisition had been purely functional; and the old man she’d bartered with was determined to not give them up. Akila returned to his large booth in the middle of Ha’Akram’s bustling market four days straight—intent upon whittling down the amount of goods he’d wanted in exchange. His brow was heavy and his bartering hand even more so, but eventually she’d talked him into a reasonable price for them both. One of the marketeer’s main selling points was that the red lensed goggles had originated from Crasus, but the Ferlizian woman hadn’t been quick to trust him as she’d never seen anything quite like them before. Never-the-less, they proved to be useful during a trip into the deserts north of the main city when the spring sandstorms kicked up periodically. While Az’s claws travelled over the leather band, offering up a comment that they’d last if cared for properly, she nodded and murmured a quick “Hyam” as a confirmation of her understanding. She graciously accepted her goggles back and fitted them onto the crown of her head, “An informahtion hunter, hmm? I suppose thaht is a wahy of life universal ahcross ahll regions. she remarked with a small smirk, “Thahnk you, as ahlways, for your expertise, Aahz. I hope thehy continue to serve me well, Zu’Ular willing.”

After a brief time the pair approached Azelton’s trusty wooden wagon full of wares. Even from ten yards away, she could see that he’d already set up shop and was prepared to present the most entrancing and fascinating items to passers by. Doubtless, he was hoping to catch the eye of folks with deep pockets. She was happy to see Azelton’s horse, Toft, doing well and still in good shape to pull his wagon along the roads of Esedi, too. With her own mount in tow, Akila approached the old mare and lifted a hand to scratch her jaw and that spot behind the ears which all horses seem to love. Once greeting the animal, Akila lashed Malikah’s reigns to a bough on the opposite side of the tree from Toft, “You two behave yourselves, now,,” she advised in Shahzhani. Before leaving her side, however, Akila moved to the rear saddlebags hitched to her horse and removed one from the rest of the saddle; within it were the gifts she’d thoughtfully gathered for her Zashik, Zasha, and the King of Esedi. She looked towards Azelton and asked, “ Might I leave Malikah with you while I ahttend to my business? She seems to ehnjoy the compahny of your Toft. And she does not seehm to mind you either,”she added thoughtfully.

While she was doing her best to appear jovial, the constant glare of Castle Duran’s guards cut through her facade like daggers. They eyed her warily, more than likely because she had arrived unannounced; on top of that her attire, and further, her entire appearance left nothing to presupposition as to where she was from. It was a constant challenge not to feel estranged outside of Shahszhan, but it afforded her a more pleasant experience to not make her discomfort known to those around her. Too many times before had she been the subject of threats and while she wasn’t entirely defenseless, against most people larger than herself she didn’t stand a chance unless astride Malikah al-Layl. Within the castle walls, she would not have the benefit of wielding her weapons or escaping upon horseback. Poise and a shrewd sense of civility would be her only tools.

The heavy contents of her saddlebag thudded against her back as she slung it up and over her shoulder; the sack bulged from the top of her back making her appeared hunched. Akila winced slightly at the weight of it, but maneuvered herself beneath the weight and regained her bearings. Her eyes narrowed as she recounted part of her conversation with Az and she turned quickly to face the lizard man, “Aahz,” she began carefully, “You said ‘lords,’ not ‘lord’, yehs?” She paused for a moment while contemplating how to continue her train of thought in the Esedi tongue, ”More men than my Zashik have ahlso trahveled here?” Her eyes moved from Az and inspected the massive wooden gate that was drawn out over the moat. The grey stones, carefully stacked and mortared together for strength appeared most unwelcoming compared to the warm colors and open air of her Shahszhan, ”Thehy have trahvelled to this pile of cold rocks?”

- - -

Akila speaks in Shahszhani
Akila speaks in Esedi
Company: her mount, Malikah al-Layl; Azelton the Merchant
Where: the gates of Castle Duran, Goldvale