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    1. Dusty 7 yrs ago

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Alright, I'm throwing my hat into this ring.



Are we getting another advancement post @Jb?
I'ma be that kinda person but:

@malmshodes (I remember youz), @Dusty - I see ya'll lurkin in the background! We're open for more people to join, ya'll guys want to hop in and join?


Haha, yeah I've been following. Considering bringing the Predator in, or maybe the Terminator. I'm already in another RP though, so we'll see.

By the by, I'm surprised Jehan did not make the connection after hearing Marg's description, even after them "discussing" heraldry.

I'm glad we're taking the Johan joke to its logical extreme. Somewhere along the way we're gonna meet an NPC who isn't named Johan and we're all going to be suspicious that he's lying about his true name...

The following morning Guy de le Guerre awoke with the rising sun, feeling and looking much fresher than he’d been the previous evening. After the eventful exposition downstairs, he’d retired to his purchased quarters, spending the scant few extra pennies on a tub of hot water and a sharp razor to preform the traditional Bretonnian preening. Scraping the fuzz from his chin and trimming the curling locks by a good three inches did wonders on their own merit, but the bath and a fresh pair of breeches and tunic finished the transformation off, très bon.

Sighing in content he strode lazily over to his single window, throwing open the wooden shutters to allow the eastern sun free access. Fresh forest air wafted indoors smelling of rain and pine chasing away all the worries he still possessed about his ever-dwindling currency supply. If there is one thing I shall bring back to Bretonnia, he considered staring down at the commonfolk going about their morning duties. It will be the sewers. How Imperial towns of this size do not smell solely of dung and pestilence is a marvel, and one sorely needed at my father’s fiefdom. Perhaps my brother and I shall bring back one of their architects, to design a system. Wouldn’t that put a smile on his face, seeing his sons return full Knights of the Realm with gifts to boot. Smiling at this optimistic notion he knelt reciting his morning prayers before the sun, as always begging for strength and guidance. The practiced words did not take long for the young knight to articulate and before the half hour he’d risen, sheathed his sword, and oiled his armor, packing it away under his bed. His morning ritual finished he proceeded promptly down to the stables where his unnamed mare had waited out the night, chewing contentedly at a few flakes of hay he’d thrown for her.

He met the stable boy by the door, who was already hard at work shoveling soiled straw into a wheelbarrow. The heavyset lad perhaps a year Guy’s senior perked up at the accent, seeming to think this Bretonnian might be as generous as the last. He began retelling how fervently he’d cared for the blood bay, grooming and brushing the mud from her mane and fur as if he was tending the Emperor’s own noble steed. Whatever reward he might have expected for his extra efforts however were waved away and rebuffed by the haughty adolescent.

“You, cared for her? Bah, do not make me laugh you foolish peon, you do not look to know a bridle from a halter. Hurry along now, fetch me a pick and brush, I shall attend her needs personally.” From learned experience Guy knew that only the best taverns throughout the Empire possessed stable hands of merit, and the Ogre’s Maw did not enjoy an air of an establishment that hired proper stable masters. Besides, he had been caring for his particularly perfectionist father’s horses since his fourth nameday and knew the business well. When it came to his only mount Guy reasoned only the best would suffice. Sure enough, after a few minutes of diligent searching he discovered a few clumps of mud clinging at her girth, and a pebble lodged in her right forehoof all of which were removed with a few economic flicks of his wrist.

I ought to have him whipped for selling lies. Have these Imperial commoners no respect for the diligence of the nobility? I suppose the layman would soak in his falsehoods and pay him handsomely for his services, leading him to think he might hoodwink anyone. Guy groused as he tossed away the tools, giving his mare a few heartfelt pats on her sturdy neck. He grinned, somewhat maliciously at the notion of pursuing just such a tactic. It was something his uncle would do semi-religiously, but his father would consider it petty no doubt. Guy tossed the idea away, continuing to pet the loyal beast who’d carried him this far, his hand traveling up until it was scratching behind her ears beneath the dark mane. She deserved a name he knew, but none he could invoked seemed to fit the surefooted mount. Naming pets and horses was Phillipe’s specialty, his brother always had a knack for finding the perfect label in the space of a heartbeat. His own Erranty horse had been dubbed Bonjour un-jour and it suited his grey charger perfectly. Perhaps once they reunited Phillipe would once again conjure up the perfect name for Guy’s mare, Quest Finisher, or Oathkeeper or something. Guy shook himself, grinning self-consciously once the supposed names sank in. Those were terrible. He nearly laughed aloud, but merely gave the unnamed mare one last good-natured pat before heading back indoors.

His good mood was cut short as he stepped through the door that separated the stables and the common. His eyes immediately locking upon the face of the Bretonnian mercenary who’d spoken to him the night before. Jehan le Cordelier as he had introduced himself so boldly, proudly carrying the Imperial black powder weaponry, and forgoing the sigil of his father, as if the precious heraldry meant nothing. Guy for his part wore the Crimson Raven like the badge of honor it was, his separated from those of his brothers and father by a delicate white rose clutched gingerly in one talon, as the red death-bird spread its mighty wings in defiance against all evil. Jehan wore none, most probably because any fallen Bretonnian knight would be hunted to the ends of the earth by their extended family should the fallen wear the house’s symbols in dishonorable fashion. This way he could act as a gold biting mercenary without wrathful second cousins shadowing his every move. When they’d spoken briefly the previous evening Guy had been too enthralled in the events surrounding the man Johan Sebastian Bock and the other colorful figures to give Jehan much thought. He’d watched as the adults- No, he was a man grown, and no longer needed to think of them as his seniors, - the company concluded their business and departed, as his exhausted brain put together the different facts ultimately drawing the only possible conclusion for Jehan’s past. A fallen Knight, spurning Lady and blood and oath in pursuit of gold.

“Jehan le Cordelier,” He spat the name out in Reikspiel as if it was some foul excrement not worthy of their native tongue. His fingers dropped until they were resting on his sword’s leather-bound hilt, ready at a moment’s notice. He’d left his armor upstairs, but the tough embroidered doublet, and travel cloak would serve to stave off shallow cuts, and Guy was confident enough in his skill that he could win, should his needling provoke the dishonored Breton into action. “I see you have not yet departed to serve as the errand boy for the lesser folk, to scrounge your meals at the generosity of employers, and further dishonor your family’s proud name. Cordelier, I do not recognize this House, but I can only imagine how your ancestors suffer in their graves at the shame you bring upon them. I, Guy de le Guerre am half a mind to ease their pain…” Guy’s tone was harsh, and his barbed underlying threats were not withheld, but he did not feel them, not truly. His tone shifted as he wondered what would drive a noble son to forsake everything and live as Jehan did. Deep within Guy felt a jolt of hurt and confusion, and part of him did not want to admit even to himself how uncertain he felt.

“Why would you break your vows?” He asked suddenly in High Bretonnian, unable to maintain the air of cold indifference as his voice hesitated ever so slightly. “Were you not like me once, a Knight Errant? And – and the Lady, and your father, and your kin and everything we swore to uphold? How do you reconcile betraying everything?”

Yeah, sorry Ty, I’ve just been real busy IRL and flying a bunch, but I’ve got a free day today so my post should be up soon, it’s almost finished actually. Just one from Guy’s perspective, then we could do a collab, from Jehan’s POV if you’d like.

This is getting really out of hand, now there are, *does quick count* five of them!

@TyrannosaursRex Can Guy spot Jehan down in the tavern common in the morning? So we can get things started in their blossoming rivalry?
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