[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjgwLjMxYjBmYy5SV1IzYVc0Z1NIbHNZVzVrLjE,/pfeffer-mediaeval.regular.png[/img] [img]http://67.media.tumblr.com/27f866590b520885a1c1b1749dd8f62c/tumblr_mop82dfboU1qc4ffvo1_250.gif[/img] [b][u]Interacting With;[/u][/b] | [b]Lord Dunkirk[/b] (NPC) | [color=c23023][b]Emmaline[/b][/color] [@HushedWhispers]| [color=f6989d][b]Juliana[/b][/color] [@Harley Q]| [color=f26522][b]Trystan[/b][/color] [@KillBox]| [color=yellow][b]Bailan[/b][/color] [@RangingWolf]| [color=dimgray][b]Tybalt[/b][/color] [@Buddha]| [color=ded16a][b]Julia Elizabeth[/b][/color] [b][u]Location;[/u][/b] The Black Knight Tavern -> Inside the Castle[/center][hr][hr] The air in the Black Knight Tavern reeked of ale and piss. The people in attendance were mainly peasants, not interested in attending the festivities of the day, or they were whores, looking for someone to sell their services too. More than one came to Edwin, and more than one was turned away. He wasn't here to sully his family's name. Just as he was beginning to grow impatient, the man he'd been waiting for walked up and took a seat, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on the table, like he owned the place. Which he did. Edwin smiled, a insincere smile, but a smile nonetheless. [color=deepskyblue][b]"Lord Dunkirk. How nice of you to make our meeting. A meeting, I might add, that you wanted to have,"[/b][/color] he said, the venom in his voice all too apparent. Edwin Hyland was the heir to Mount Promonon, Prince of the Mountain, and an altogether much more important person than William Dunkirk. [b]"Someone is rather testy today,"[/b] the noble said, his smirk reminding Edwin of a snake. Edwin reclined in his chair, an effort to show off his confidence. [color=deepskyblue][b]"Lord Dunkirk, I did not come here to play your games. I came to speak about whatever it is you could want from me."[/b][/color] Lord Dunkirk let his hands fall, and raised his eyebrows. Here it came. [b]"Seeing as you're so impatient, I'll get to the point. You're here representing your family, along with your mother, seeing as your father is so [i]tragically[/i] ill. Now, seeing as how you'll be inheriting the seat of your house, I decided it most prudent to speak with you,"[/b] the weasel of a lord said, his fingers drumming a tune on the coarse wooden table. [color=deepskyblue][b][i]"The point,"[/i][/b][/color] Edwin hissed, prompting Lord Dunkirk to continue. [b]"I'd like to offer you a deal. You're family's ambition is no secret, as much as you may think it is. What if I could offer your family a direct route to the throne,"[/b] Lord Dunkirk said, his smirk still staunchly in place on his face. Edwin's looked around the tavern. [color=deepskyblue][b]"What you're discussing sounds an awful lot like treason, Lord Dunkirk. And I'd hate to see you hauled off to the gaol,"[/b][/color] Edwin said. Despite his musings, he couldn't hide the gleam in his eye. Lord Dunkirk had struck something in him. [b]"Nonsense my boy. I'm only suggesting that, a few of the competitors in today's tournament have an accident. Increase one of your brothers' chances of winning. Or even yours if you so desire. Not all of the competition, obviously. The lesser houses mainly," [/b] Lord Dunkirk said, going for the kill. Edwin stood up, his face stern. [color=deepskyblue][b]"My father isn't dead yet, and as such, this isn't my decision to make, at least not alone. I'll need to speak to my mother,"[/b][/color] he said, turning to go. Lord Dunkirk nodded. [b]"I didn't know you still ran to your mother's teat when-"[/b] Lord Dunkirk was cut off by a glare from the young Lord, who saw himself out of the tavern without another word. He found his family inside the castle, where the feast had already begun. They were speaking to a man, who's face was not familiar to him in the slightest. He walked up and took his place beside his mother, smiling at the group. [color=deepskyblue][b]"Brothers and sisters, I apologize that I'd left you all to your own devices. It seems you've taken to hounding this poor man,"[/b][/color] he said to his siblings, before leaning in to whisper in his mother's ear, just loud enough so that the rest of his family wouldn't hear. [color=deepskyblue][b][i]"We must speak in private later,"[/i][/b][/color] he said before turning to the unfamiliar man. [color=deepskyblue][b]"My apologies ser! I am Edwin Hyland, pleased to meet you. I hope my family here hasn't frightened you too much,"[/b][/color] he said with a bow, never one to forget his manners. [hr][hr] [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLjMxZmM3Zi5RVzFsYkdsaElFZDFiR3g1LjA,/sweet-lady.italic.png[/img] [img]http://31.media.tumblr.com/dd9eee10e66b763bf2a6fdb37fd7e107/tumblr_mptxaqc7Tw1sxlolio1_500.gif[/img] [b][u]Interacting With;[/u][/b] | [color=0072bc][b]Ithobal[/b][/color] [@Tmitche23]| [color=AA8839][b]Arthur[/b][/color] [@Pundii]| [color=lightpink][b]Catarina[/b][/color] [@Buddha]| [color=8882be][b]Myriam[/b][/color] [@Ferris]| [b][u]Location;[/u][/b] Coreival Castle Gardens -> Inside the Castle[/center][hr][hr] To say that the last of the Moors were a boring bunch would be inaccurate. In fact, they were incredibly, impossibly, mundane. The last few Moors who'd survived the execution of their relatives were distant cousins, barely even worthy of holding her mother's maiden name, but they held it all the same. Amelia had abandoned her mother to her family long ago, and was currently walking through the castle garden, admiring the beauty of it all. And why, she wondered as she plucked a flower with petals soft as silk, should it belong to the Ainsworths? Why should they hold the kingdom in their palms, and not the Gullys? Amelia resigned to save that question for another day, as she reached the end of the garden, which looked out over the port of Coreival Castle. As she gazed out at all the ships, she spied one that she'd know anywhere. The Leviathan. Which could only mean one thing. Ithobal was here. She couldn't hide her excitement as she ran from the gardens, holding the excess material that made up her dress in her hands, as she went to see her family. She hadn't seen Ithobal in quite some time. He'd been out traveling the world, hiding from the responsibilities of being a Gully, or at least that's what she thought. But no matter how weak she perceived him as for running away, he was still her brother, and the closest one to her in age. She did love him, very much, and she'd missed him. She spotted her family just inside the castle, and she had to take a moment to compose herself. She couldn't just run up and pounce on her brother, no matter how much she'd missed him. Instead she moved gracefully across the stone until she had joined up with her elder brother and sister, her father, and her younger sister. [color=springgreen][b]"Ithobal, it's...it's wonderful to see you again,"[/b][/color] she said with a genuine smile, a rare thing for her. [color=springgreen][b]"I apologize for being late father, I was seeing the gardens. Now Ithobal, I suppose you'll be competing in this tournament?"[/b][/color] [hr][hr] [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLjQyOGY2MC5RVzFoY21FZ1IzVnNiSGssLjAA/seaweed-script.regular.png[/img] [img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/961c1db6318d1bf51f7a86bf6396218c/tumblr_n0lqhdlPfb1qhut37o2_250.gif[/img] [b][u]Interacting With;[/u][/b] | No one | [b][u]Location;[/u][/b] The Castle Steps[/center][hr][hr] Everything about this day should have been splendid. Her family was here, her dress was magnificent, and an air of delight permeated the city, making everything seem just a bit brighter. But for Amara Gully, the day was drab and lifeless. She could not be bothered to even fake a smile for the event. Today was the first day she'd been back to Coreival Castle in decades. Today was the first day she had revisited the scene of her family's murder. She stood there now, on the steps of the palace, where they had knelt. Her father, Walder, and her two older brother, Alexander and Arric. Even her younger brother, a boy no older than sixteen. This was where they'd all lost their heads. Tears flowed from her eyes as she looked down upon the steps, so pristine and white, as if her family hadn't been slain right there, while she watched in anguish. The king had thought her continued life to be a show of mercy, but to her it was nothing more than a punishment, one last act of vengeance against her family. She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffed, and regained her composure. People were staring now, and she shot each of them a glare that forced them to turn their heads. So what if they mocked her? Called her mad, or insane? Maybe she was. They wouldn't call her insane after she brought the Ainsworth's to their knees, and watched them beg as her brother's had begged, watched them weep as they heard their death sentence echo out across the streets. Then she'd have her revenge, when her family, the family she'd built, took the Ainsworth's power. And on Samson's way out she'd look into his eyes, the same ones that had haunted her for years and she'd tell him that he should have killed her. So what if she was insane? Revenge always called for a healthy dose of insanity.