The uncle winced as Opal spoke into his ear; quiet as she was, he was sitting between two quite attentive individuals. While the prince was less inclined to listen to such things, and may come to a... fairly harmless conclusion of the nature of the whispers, the ice mage was less accommodating in his judgements. He kept a straight face and simply began eating, wondering what damage to his hard-earned schemes was dealt by such words spoken aloud in the public setting. He saw the mage eyeball him between careful bites, and paid no mind to the expressions he received. He'd have to work quickly, with his own merits, to depose the mage. He hoped the mage was not forming similar ideas.

Which of course the studious cloaked individual besides him was. His hearing was not advanced too far, but he had enough. He'd work to eliminate them both... in time. The three men finished breakfast and said goodbye; the prince and his uncle left to a side parlor, while the ice mage made his way to where the lord would meet his king.

The guards, upon dragging the nobleman into a fairly obscure room, cursed and muttered about reviving him. It took a bucket of water to even fully establish that he was, yes, alive, but in a very deep sleep. It took two maids to verify that his sleep was slightly unnatural, almost coma-like, some fifteen minutes later. It took the head maid's visit to an alchemist, another fifteen minutes worth, to bring a potion that would revive him. The man finally awoke and looked around, seeing maids and guards around him, and began to growl at them in protest. The maids departed with a wave of one of the guard's hands, and they lead the grumbling, still slightly dizzy nobleman towards the chambers of the king, followed by a small but growing crew of maids, passing curious faces, and curious noblemen. Among the noblemen, near the front, was the ice mage.

The noble was lead to the king's royal chamber; unlike the rest of the palace, it lacked much of the grandeur one would expect of such a place. The room was fairly dim, filled with candles, and featured stone pillars surrounding a relatively small space. There was a circle in the room, space enough for the currently empty stone throne of the king; in front of the throne, enough space for 2-3 people to stand before him. The outsides had quite a bit more space to work with, allowing several dozen people to be in attendance. The outside of the room filled with curious faces, and the fat lord stood before the empty throne, - poorly - attempting to appear confident.

A door at the back of the room opened. Stepping in was the king himself, an older man, presently clad in long brown robes with purple streaks. His eyes wandered quickly, briefly scanning the faces of everyone in attendance, his look not far from the inquisitive glances of the ice mage. Those in front of him began to bow, but he waved his hands adamantly for them to stand just as quickly before he stepped into the circle and took a slow seat, pinning the nobleman before him with his gaze.

The eye is watching. It observes with a very long stare. It does not glare, but it is very intent. Intent upon what? We must attempt to find out, lest we drown in its gaze.

---

w0w

So, you found the profile of the bastard who's going to eat your soul Arena of Snow. What do you hope to find? My post history? A reason for why I act deranged half the time, and 'sane' the other half? Something with fancy characters, beeeuuutiful pitch black on guild background text, a billion GIFs to murder your slow connection? Alas, I'm a boring old sod who offers none of the above. Except the post history. There you can see the crazy shit I posted, mostly because I couldn't be bothered to edit out the un-complimentary parts.

So what else am I supposed to post here? Hmm... hell if I know. Tell you what, if you send a PM and ask about, shit, anything, maybe we'll get to details, and I'll be able to figure out what to post here. Yes? No really, send me a PM. The more insulting the better. But if you want to send something not insulting, I guess you can get away with that too.

Have a history. First I was a bouncing portal. Then I was a 70 ton deathmonger of doom. Then I became... I think it was a beer can for a total of five minutes. Then I became the bouncing portal that eats your soul. Then I evolved and took physical form as some floating thing that forgot to make itself a viable lower body.

King Llywelyn. The Welsh King. Both included the term "king", and they both sounded foreign to the young king's ears. 'A dignitary for you, my king.' Llywelyn could scarcely believe that he was the king being mentioned. Only two years ago, he had been a minor noble from the countryside. Just another face kept in the castle, being trained in the ways of politics, combat and honor. Three concepts that always seemed strange when strung together.

Insert disclaimer blah here. Personal use for steam overlay while assigning traits to characters in Medieval 2 Total War.
Direct Command
GoodCommander / BadCommander 5
GoodAttacker / BadAttacker 5
GoodDefender / BadDefender 5
NaturalMilitarySkill 4
NightBattleCapable

GoodAmbusher 4
BadAmbusher 3
GoodSiegeAttacker 4
BadSiegeAttacker 3
GoodSiegeDefender 4
BadSiegeDefender 3
GoodRiskyAttacker / BadRiskyAttacker 3
GoodRiskyDefender / BadRiskyDefender 3

GoodInfantryGeneral / BadInfantryGeneral 3
GoodCavalryGeneral / BadCavalryGeneral 3

GoodArtilleryCommander 4
BadArtilleryCommander 3
GoodGunpowderCommander 4
BadGunpowderCommander 3

Command Auxillary
StrategicSkill 3
TacticalSkill 3
LogisticalSkill 3

GoodDisciplinarian / BadDisciplinarian 3
Scout 3

BattleScarred 4
VictorVirtue 3
FactionKiller 4

GloriousFool 3
Hatesfaction/Fearsfaction 3

Backroom Aptitude
SpyMaster / AssassinMaster / CounterSpy / AssassinCatcher 3
Trusting 3
Paranoia 4
DeceiverVirtue 3
HighPersonalSecurity / LaxPersonalSecurity 3

Loyalties
Liar 4
Embezzler 4
Loyal 4 / Disloyal 4
ContentGeneral / DiscontentGeneral 3
Upright / Corrupt 3

Conduct
Just / Unjust 3
HarshRuler / KindRuler 3
StrategyDread / StrategyChivalry 5

BattleDread / BattleChivalry 5
CaptorChivalry / CaptorDread 3
RansomChivalry / RansomDread 4

Despoiler 3
Genocide 3

Government & Politics
InspiringSpeaker 3 / BoringSpeaker 3
RhetoricSkill 3
Rabblerouser 4

GoodAdministrator / BadAdministrator 3
Authoritarian / NonAuthoritarian 3
HarshJustice / LenientJustice 3
GoodTaxman / BadTaxman 3

GoodDiplomacy 4
BadDiplomacy 3
PoliticsSkill 3

FathersLegacy 3
ChivalryLegacy 2
DreadLegacy 3

Character
Brave 5
Coward 4
Noctophobia / Noctophilia 3
Inbred 6
Fertile / Infertile 3
Handsome 4
Ugly 5
Hypochondriac 3
HaleAndHearty 3
Energetic / Slothful 4

Skills & Learnings
MathematicsSkill 3
AcademyTrained 2
Cultured 3
TourneyKnight 5
HorseRacer 3
GoodFarmer / GoodMiner / GoodEngineer / GoodTrader / BadEngineer / BadTrader / GoodBuilder / BadBuilder 3

Vices
Anger 3
Lewd 3
Drink 6
Feck 4
Arse 4
Girls 5
Gambling 4
Sobriety 3
Epicurean 3
Perverted 6
ExpensiveTastes 3
Aesthetic 3

Personality
Ignorance / Intelligent 3
Xenophobia / Xenophilia 3
Stoic 3
Austere 3
Generous / Miserly 3
Superstitious / Pragmatic 3
Cheapskate 3
Cuckold 4

Religion
PublicAtheism / PublicFaith 4
TouchedByTheGods 3
ForcedReligious 3
ReligiousActivity 4
ReligiousInactivity 2

CrusaderHistory 3
JihadHistory 3

AdoredByPope 3
PopesEnforcer 2

Mental Status
Insane 3
Deranged 3
Senile 3
TooOldToFight 1

Cursed 4
StrickenSilly 3
StrickenSerious 1

Berserker 3
Bloodthirsty 3
Haemophobic 3

Gregarious / Introvert 3

Statbump
EasternWarlord 3
JaguarWarlord 3

Wife
WifeIsCharming / WifeIsHorrid 3
WifeIsFertile / WifeIsBarren 3
WifeIsWise 3
WifeIsNoble / WifeIsBitch 3

The North, or specifically, the top third portion of landmass of the Western Continent, is a hardy place of extremes and ultimate survivalists. Filled with beasts, gruff lone wolves and small but formidable civilizations long undisturbed, it is a place of mystery and charm to outsiders. Those who live there know the struggles of fighting off bears and natural, though dangerous beasts of other sorts. Plants that attack unprepared bystanders? Commonplace. Poison berries? You should be concerned when you find a berry that doesn't seem to be poisoned, for there is likely something else wrong with it. Crazy old men with beards living in tree shacks talking to monkeys? Probably the sane ones, and they usually make better ale than the combined efforts of the few villages scattered about.

Why in the world would anyone want to go there? Adventure? Insanity? Escaping from a band of bloodstained knights on horseback that just got done murdering everyone else in your city because the city council refused to give up some noble's daughter?

The first two, perhaps not so much. The last? Common story for the flood of refugees that have attempted to move in from all over the world, half of whom die before they even get there and another quarter dead the moment they spend more than a day in the forest. The quarter that remains is already countering the number of natives, and while they often have troubles adapting, it's a far better trade than what the rest of the world is up to. Namely, mass scale civil wars, degeneration of a formerly unstable society and increasingly rampant demons that usually trickle out of the latest city sacked by one of the newly-spawned demon lords. The Eastern Continent is already lost to chaos, and the Western Continent barely retains any sense of sanity.

What happened to make the world come to this? Long, long story.

Perhaps you're a hardcore native, pissed off at the number of special snowflakes that barged in and thought they had a right to your homeland. Perhaps you're a refugee, recently escaped from the south or, if you're extremely lucky or extremely rich, the Eastern Continent. Maybe you're just a poor sod who's lived in a little home in an insignificant village and took a cookie from the kind witch that came in every week to say hello. Whoever you are, it doesn't matter. You're in a little village called Madoa, somewhere in the northern forests, and it is in the late winter that things get interesting.

*Not entirely certain if that last message was for him, he crosses her wrists in front and tightly ties them in a figure eight. The cords circle her wrists over and over, pulling tight into her. He then moves her hands up above and just behind her head. Much of the coil hangs from her bound hands. He wraps it around her torso, above and below her chest, before knotting it under her bosom* There's a good start don't you think?