[center] [b] The South, Cholerny [/b] [/center] The Keep of Cholerny was a grey and formidable structure carved out of the mountain range of the south and cloaked by the tall trees of the forest. The humble town stood at its heels pure and untouched by the crimes of the north. The keep was of finest and oldest Marmon build and has felt the pounding of many ancient wars. The walls were active and being trodden upon by loyal citizen guards who kept the old Marmon was safe in their very heart. The light that shone from the slits of the walls challenged and banished the cloudy gloom that formed under the storm clouds and promised a dry warmth from the pattering rains that washed the granite bricks of dirt and dust. Here in this sentinel of stone lives Henry Lempeter, duke of Cholerny and last free noble from the touch of the criminal lords. His dining room was full this noon as hooded visitors talked softly to him. The room was a bright chestnut and filled with the labor of the towns people, from the long wooden table to the brightly stitched banners and table cloths. The room held the strong aroma of a very varying soup that filled the metal bowls of the visitors. The iron spoons clanked and scraped the bowls as they fought the evasive ingredients to get the biggest spoonful of the most tender bits of lamb and juicy carrot. In between slurps and smacking lips the conversation was spoken softly and privately, but clearly among old friends. The hooded men where Commander Mikus Dominum and Glemus Puwonem who sat on the opposite side of the hard table, facing Henry. Henry was dressed like a lumberer, but a rich one at that, his brown beard was trim and his hair did not fall into his chestnut eyes as he sat, his big shoulders hunched and his hands folded as he gave the two fugitive soldiers a silent, pensive look. Mikus had been returning the look with one of irritation. “Henry,” Mikus said finally as he directed his attention to a stray mushroom floating around in his soup, “I cannot thank you enough for the usual hospitality, my old friend,” Henry said as he scooped the mushroom with his spoon and slurped t down. “Now Mikus,” Henry said, his stern gaze not lifting from Mikus, “I know you well enough to know that when you go so far off topic just to compliment someone, you’re devising a nasty little plan.” A smile tried and withered on Mikus’ face, “It is just disturbing to know that the rat bastard fake king managed to take so much of the west so easily, and with half the conquered towns and villages giving up before his bastard army arrived.” Henry nodded then took a sip of a mug of milk that had been sitting in front of him for some time untouched. “Well, with the capitol pretty much defenseless and with the Bull presumed to be in the west, wouldnt this be the perfect time to take the castle back?” “Not that I’m suggesting high treason,” Henry smiled his politician smile, and managed to get a chuckle out of the silent Puwonem who sat with his face practically in his bowl of soup. “Easily,” replied an unimpressed Mikus, “But the issue is not with the taking of Marmon, but rather the keeping it. As soon as word spreads that I have showed my head and marched the lost cohort into the castle of Mallkim, all the crime lords and their pawns would be there in an instant, no, first we must take out a few heads so the body may not follow.” “How do you suppose we do that?” Puwonem asked, his bottom lip had a stray bit of parsley sticking to it as he lifted his face from his bowl. Mikus suppressed a laugh and scratched his stubbled cheeks, “I- “ Suddenly a chain covered guard poked his head in, “Sir, Duke Lempeter, a raggedy looking man has been pestering the front doorsmen for hours asking for you, what shall we do?” Henry shook his head, “of course there has been, go on then lets see the poor bloke.” After a few silent minutes a man who looked the part of a beggar walked in flanked by two guards men. The beggar looked worn and was wearing a dirt stained burlap cloak, pulled over his head and covering his face in a dirty shadow. The man was shoeless and his toes were bitten red, only finding shelter from the elements from the torn ends of long green pants that looked as if it was stitched a thousand times over in poorly sewn patches. The only thing remotely pleasant about the odd beggar man was his smell, which had a hauntingly strong tinge of the deep woods pines and saps. It wa if the forest itself had stripped itself to the lowest poverty and walked into the keep of Cholerny. “good day, sir,” The beggar said roughly in almost a whisper. “And a good day to you too my good man, what do you wish of me?” Henry started, a look of skepticism was in his face at the oddity that stood hunched before him. “Just a simple donation for a poor old man.” The guard on the man’s left looked extremely annoyed, “come on then, back outside, how dare you stop pall of us to beg.” “No,” Henry waved his hand as if banishing the accusation, “I have a few coins in my pocket, I’m afraid it is the best I can do right now.” Mikus, who had been hiding his face in a cloak of his own spoke up, keeping his face low, “Beggar, take my bowl, take my soup.” Puwonem lifted his bowl up, “Take mine as well, beggar.” A crooked smile formed under the dirty shadow of the beggars hood, “Thank you kindly, strangers.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [center] [b] Party Time, starring Jim and William [/b] [/center] The glamour of Palace was overwhelming for the Jim and William. Though they had little trouble getting in due to no one really knowing what King Curlow and Captain Edwin really looked like, the two had no idea what to do as soon as the party began in the great room. The regal looking Jim adjusted his bronze crown and eyed the bizarre foods, then back at the anxious William, who had stolen a particularly nice suit of mail and a matching sword. “Jim.” William began as his dark searching eyes scanned the elaborate hall and its shiny trinkets. “Yes, [i] Edwin [/i],” Jim said through his teeth as he looked over a few of the foreign women with a roguish appetite. “I want to get wasted,” said William as his eyes rested on the table of food. Jim reached into his royal purple cloak he had stolen from a pimp and revealed a metal flask. Jim unscrewed the cap and took a heavy swing, making a face at the sour alcohol that the flask contained before quickly replacing it in his cloak once more, “Good luck with that Will,” He patted Williams shoulder and began a false royal walk towards some rich dressed lady who was creating polite conversation with some noble who stood as if a rod was up his ass. Jim slapped his shaven face as the alcohol kicked his stomach and refocused his hazel eyes on the lady’s back, “ ‘Scusie Madam,” Jim said with an exaggerated bow as the lady turned to witness the sudden arrival. She was a pretty woman and had a small nose that fitted her face quite nicely in between two big sea blue eyes, her young red lips were apart as she was interrupted by the bow. “Yes?” the surprised raven haired noble woman observed the kingly rogue, particularly focusing on his impressive crown. “Where do you hail from, regency,” She said, her tone was soft and quite lovely to the foresters ears. “I am King Jeffsoff Curlow of Marmon!” Jim announced loudly as William watched from the food tables, his cheeks stuffed full of strange flavors. Jim looked back at William and received two greasy thumbs up. Jim turned back to the pretty woman and flashed his most charming white toothed smile, custom to the Armain thief, matched with his enchantingly handsome gaze he had perfected over years of conning, “What star sign were you born under, lovely,” Jim said smoothly with a suggestive wink. "I beg your pardon?" The lady replied almost confused, as her stare was trapped by Jim's mesmerizing hazel gaze. [Feel free to mingle with the thieves of pick up lines, MORE TO COME]