gorgenmast

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

70th of Zieliah, Year 698

The light from the chapels tainted windows were casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across from one side of the room to the next. Shamgar stood before the flaming brazier that was placed tactfully upon the main altar, with a short flight of steps ascending toward it. Many of the larger temples had their own flaming altars, and the most prestigious temples held the flame of the First Fire. The fire that Valarien Paragon herself lit within the great Flame Keep. It had burned for more then 600 turns of the wheel, and was as bright and strong now as it had been on the day of it's creation. Most did not believe a temple was even properly consecrated unless a flame from that fire graced its altar. Whenever Shamgar needed a place and time to think, he found a sort of comfort staring into those fires. As if the warmth of Kammeth himself enveloped him, burning away the hurts, wounds, or cares of his world and replacing them with peace of mind. After the summit, Shamgar had taken the time to speak with Helden briefly to inform him to meet him here. He found the chamber was a prefect place to conduct business without prying eyes, given there were only two portals into the room.

His gaze was still fixed on the fire when Helden eventually entered, he did not turn to until the man was already reaching the steps. His eyes shifted from the fire to Helden, seeming to take his measure before speaking. “Master Heldan, thank you for meeting me so quickly. Now, there was a matter I wished to discuss with you outside the ear shot of the other Lords.”

He turned fully and rested his palms on the head of his walking stick. “I am sure it is no news to you of the theft of the crown and the assassination of our previous Phoenix King. Less known however, is the fact we managed to capture one of those assassins, it took much time and doing...but we eventually learned he is a member of the Black Scorpions...A notorious group of hired killers to be sure. I believe they had help of course, likely from within the court, but such so far I have found little evidence. I fear my duties as Lord Regent will leave even less time for me to uncover the truth, that task it would seem, now rest on your shoulders. Of what we could gather from the man, before he died regretfully, is that the Guild Arcane my very well have some connection to these hired killers, of which I cannot imagine in what way. Worse still, I suspect the Under King may have a hand in this, there are few ways to exit the city unseen, and all of them are within the Under City district beneath Skyhaven. Those are, I must regretfully admit, is all the leads we now possess. This of course you would have learned from your courtiers, but I have something which to ask of you. Whatever you learn, I wish you to bring directly to me before anyone else. Do I have your understanding?”

"By all means." The Seeker affirmed, basking in the warmth of Valarien's fire himself. "I can assure you utter discretion in this matter."

The Seeker turned his gaze to the crackling fire within the basin of the braizer, flashes of yellow firelight dancing upon his blank, white eyes. "Naturally, my first wish is to inquire upon the suspected connections of the assassins to the Guild Arcane and this... Underking character, as they call him. No doubt, I will know much more than I care to concerning this man in the coming days, but allow me to begin my seeking of secrets with your Regency."

"What can you tell me of this 'Under-King'?"

Shamgar sighed and with the slightest shrug of his shoulders responded. "Not as much as I would like," His gaze lingered to the flames. "The under king, or 'King under the Mountain as his is so poetically named by the commonfolk. He's the leader of the cut throats and thieves who make the under city their home. Something of a thieves guild, though the watch Captain would deny they exist altogether. No one knows who he is, or from where he even originated. All attempts of flushing him out of hiding have been met with failure, so he is certainly no fool. He likely has a few nobles and officials in his pocket, it would certainly explain his ability to stay hidden for so long. I admit I do not envy your search in finding him and learning what he knows, but I would vow on the coming dawn itself he is embroiled in this, of that there is no doubt. As for the Guild Arcane on the other hand, their involvement is mainly that of suspicion, each of the killers used a sort of magic, a guise or 'Glamer', that allowed them to assume the shapes of trusted members of the Church of the Sacred Flame, a capital offence in it's own right. Once more they were able to slip past the very wards that should have dispelled such magic, wards maintained by the Guild Arcane of course...and never mind the guild are the few institutions capable of creating such powerful illusions in the first place."

He shook his head as he turned his eyes fully on the future Seeker. "Long have the Arcane Guild been trusted assets to the crown, and I cannot imagine what they would stand to gain, but their involvement given the evidence cannot be ruled out. While you seek out this Under King, I would advise speaking with the Cheif Magister, perhaps learn what you can that would prove their innocence...or their guilt."

He flexed the joints of one hand as he added. "As for your search for the Under King himself, the good Watch Captain Ilaverio Vitcius should be able to lead you in the right direction. If nothing else, the Under King's removal would at least be a victory of a kind. I only pray the trail has not grown cold." He shook his head.
"I will leave no stone unturned, your Regency. If there is evidence to be had, I will find it." Heldan assured."

"But I am but a single man." The Seeker admitted, starting to pace slowly around the Valarien Flame upon the dais."Investigations of the magnitude requisite for the search for the crown will require favors, tools, and manpower. I can procure some of these things to a limited capacity on my own. House Anselm, while a noble house, is hardly wealthy. I will require some financing."

"I a propose to House Paragon a short-term budget of 600 Crowns to cover initial expenses - establishing informants, financing equipment and materials, procuring favors - things of a more clandestine nature." Heldan rattled off, approaching the Regent once again. "During the summit, the First Star and King Osmodeus volunteered the assistence from their respective houses. I am certain they can reimburse your house for these modest operating costs. But for the time being, I need funding at once if my investigations are to proceed."

Shamgar nodded his understanding. "Of course," He then added while scratching his chin thoughtfully. "The old Seeker still has many of his old contacts here within the Palace, in any case if you require any further assistance at all, make it known to me and I shall see what can be done."

"I shall begin my work at once." The Seeker affirmed. "Starting with the contacts of the previous Seeker, I will-"

Soft-speaking Heldan was cut short as the doors to flame chapel swung upon unexpectedly and without announcement. The Seeker and the Regent turned about at once, their gaze falling upon a pair of Royal Guards stumbling through the threshold panting and wheezing from exertion.

"Masters, my most sincere apologies for our interruption!" One guard managed between breaths, stooping down upon his knees to rest.

"There has been a murder within the citadel!" The second finished. "You must come at once!"

Without protest, Shamgar and Heldan followed on the guards' heels as they made their way to the grisly scene.

((A collaborative post between gorgenmast and GrievousKhan))

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

GreivousKhan said
Alright, in chapter two, there's more general nation rping that you would be used to. will have a set of events tomorrow.

So... this is where the posts be.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

70th of Zieliah, Year 698

"So it's true?" Lord Barad said incredulously, his mouth agape. "You are abandoning me..."

"That is ridiculous, milord." Heldan assured, glancing up from the collection of dusty tomes and grimoires scattered about the desk of his quarters to meet the disappointed glare of his Lord. "I have been a loyal servant of your house for the better part of a cycle. I served in the court of your great grandfather, Hamel. I advised Verrek after him and then your father, Alban, before you. Four generations, I have served, milord. You must not believe I wish to end my service to House Anselm now? Surely not?" The ancient man reverted his attention to an unfurled scroll laying atop a number of tomes.

"I should think so!" The Anselm lord huffed, gesturing to his seer's belongings strewn about the guest quarters he had inhabited for the duration of the Summit. "We ride home to Riddom today, Heldan. Clearly you have not packed and are not ready to leave."

"I stay in Skyhaven until the morrow." Heldan stated nochalantly, furling the scroll up to cross reference against the tome beneath it. "His Regency Shamgar Paragon wishes to speak with me concerning my duties."

"Your duties? What of your duties to me! Seeker of Secrets be damned, Heldan! You are my adviser!" Barad shouted, eliciting a concerned glance from a Royal Guard passing by the door through the corridor.

"Milord, please calm yourself." The Seeker of Secrets pleaded.

"How am I to remain calm when my adviser is abandoning me?"

Heldan sighed as and closed the tome before him with a dusty thud. "My absence from your presence will be an unpleasant change for the both of us, my liege. But it is an absolute necessity; the recovery of the Phoenix Crown is imperative. If this artifact is not recovered with all deliberate haste...

There will be no House of Anselm for me to serve before much longer."

"So I see..." said Barad, now utterly sobered. "But you must understand. These are difficult times. You have guided this House for so many turns. I need your guidance, Heldan. More than ever now."

"And you shall have it, as you and your forebears always have."

At this time, Heldan stood from his study and made his way across the quarters to the horse-sack at the foot of his bed in which he had brought his belongings to Skyhaven. From the unassuming folds of the woolen rucksack, the Seeker produced a hefty object the size of a small melon, wadded underneath a blanket of cheaply-spun linen. The feather and wool-stuffed mattress sagged under the weight of the wrapped object Heldan had taken from his pack. Lord Barad hovered curiously over the wrapped mass as Heldan procured next a small, iron hammer from the folds of the rucksack.

Assured that he had his lord's attention, Heldan unraveled the linen around the object, revealing a block of orange-amber stone as large as two fists. Its surface was smooth and crystalline on its faces though jagged and sharp at the edges, and glowed dimly from within its core. Waves of shimmering light rolled across the glassy facets like running water, utterly mesmerizing Lord Anselm.

"By Kammeth, what is this?"

"A sightstone. Mind your eyes." A perplexed Barad looked up soon enough to see Heldan draw the small hammer and drop it upon the top of the stone. With a metallic clink and a bright flash of light, the hammer broke the scrying stone in twain. Two relatively even chunks and a number of tiny, jagged shards remained of the original stone. Heldan took one of the large hunks and placed it into Barad's hands.

"Look into the stone, my liege. Tell me what you see."

The Anselm Lord peered through the shimmering facets and, through the stone, saw himself from the perspective of the remaining hunk laying upon the bedspread.

"I see myself!" An amazed Barad exclaimed.

"From any one fragment of a scrying stone, one may see and hear that which may be seen and heard by any other fragment." Heldan explained. "With a sufficiently large stone in sufficiently numerous pieces, one could see and hear every happening in every keep in Elyden; spies have long valued them. As such they are difficult to come across. Keep yours safe, and you may consult me whenever you see fit - wherever you might be."

"I shall keep it secure." Barad assured solemnly. "Thank you, Heldan."

"Travel safely, my liege. Be secure in your knowledge that I may guide you whenever difficult decisions may arise." With that, Barad nodded and excused himself from the Seeker's chamber.

As his master left, Heldan wrapped his own sightstone in the linen wadding and hid it away once more. Upon leaving his own quarters some time later, the newest Seeker of Secrets drew his cloak over his wizened face and made down the corridors of the Phoenix Tower - to the study of Regent Shamgar.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

VOTE ALREADY

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

No sooner than King Osmodeus cast his vote, Lord Barad Anselm of the Weald came to his feet, drawing the eyes of the table.

"James Conrad." Barad declared rather curtly before resuming his seat. He resumed his seat beneath the stone likeness of mighty Yorick: the barrel-chested serf who downed his wood axe during the War of the Wyrms and felled dragons instead. The sculptor had skillfully carved a disheveled yet triumphant champion; muscle rippled under a tattered leather cuirass. Perdition, a blade so sharp and so resilient that it could cleanly rend stone - or dragonscale - in twain, had also been depicted in the sculpture half-buried in the scaly base of the pedestal upon which the victorious Yorick stood. Beneath the grand statue, the same starsteel blade hung idly in the unassuming leather scabbard of her modern owner, having lost much of its magical sharpness to the passing of the cycles.

The sons of Anselm too had been diminished by time. Even now, his descendant gave his vote away for the pocket change of another lord. Barad knew his progenitor would have been ashamed. As the voting continued on, he shot a brief glance behind him, to Heldan.

With a tacit nod, Heldan assured his Lord it would pay off soon enough.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

At this time, the cloak-veiled Heldan gathered himself up from the bench behind the seat of Lord Barad Anselm and approached the great stone roundtable. He drew back the gray wool cloak that obscured the upper part of his face, revealing a wizened visage and his unsettling, blank eyes. He shot a glance down to his lord seated beside him, who nodded in tacit approval of his speaking.

“My lieges and majesties, Lord Anselm and I are in full agreement with the esteemed First Star As has been stated, the vile East menaces us all at this dark hour. And our vulnerability will only become more apparent as snow falls upon this world. For the first time in seven cycles, a winter settles down upon us. As the world freezes, the monsters of the East will know that our plight is dire indeed, and they will launch against us yet another Black Armada to subjugate us all. But even if such a thing did not come to pass - if whatever sadistic tyrant that rules that savage world were to have some mercy on fair Elyden - our realm is in great peril yet.”

“Lord Anselm and I are quite convinced that winter itself is as much a mortal danger to our realm as the prospect of an invasion from the East. Consider, my lieges and majesties, that our serfs have been utterly spoiled by seven cycles of summer. For the better part of a millenium, our peasants have been able to extract from their fields as many as three harvests per turn. This bounty has allowed a vast population the likes of which was unimaginable in antiquity. And now, we have a peasantry that has not seen so much as a frost in thirty generations. If we are to be subjected to a long winter, then our people will be all but starved out. The Black Armada might well arrive on our frozen shores and find that there remains no Valerien Empire left to conquer.”

“This cataclysm may be averted yet, but we must all work in concert to find the Phoenix Crown. For the time being, locating the crown is of the utmost concern to every Lord and King of Elyden. As such, I wish to announce my intent to serve as the Seeker of Secrets to whichever Lord is elected as regent - that I might facilitate a unilateral effort to quickly locate the missing crown and help to avert the calamity that threatens us all.” At this revelation, Lord Anselm’s jaw dropped. Seeing the concern on his Lord’s face, Heldan stooped down to Barad’s level and whispered something in his ear.

“I am in accord with my adviser and have nothing more to add.” Said Barad, still rather perplexed but far less so than he was previously.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

So, what do we need before the first post of the summit can be posted? If the cutoff is going to be after Gori's warning speech, then the post should be ready.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

A most peculiar exchange. Heldan mused silently as he slipped back down the corridor to the main parlor. In all his many years in the court, the adviser to Lord Barad Anselm had yet to witness a more unusual round of diplomacy.

James Conrad seemed very much intent on pursuing the Regency of Elyden. So much so, in fact, that he had either the gall or the naivete to ask the abrasive Kreshvi for their support in his gambit. From behind one of the moulded pillars holding up the citadel's upper floors, Heldan watched as James Conrad had drawn a knife on the bodyguard of the very Kreshvi dignitary he was trying to curry favor with. And even then, it seemed that the two parties had reached an agreement, however awkward the process was to reach it.

Heldan could not help but to be curious after so unusual a negotiation. Surreptitiously, the ancient man shadowed Lord Conrad, and listened in briefly from behind a corner as he met with Lord Whiteshorn. A pattern was becoming quite apparent, and so Heldan made haste to find his own lord to share with him these findings.
But it was James Conrad, of all people, who had beaten Heldan in seeking out Barad Anselm. The he-crone watched from a distance as Lord Conrad presented himself to the Lord of the Weald.

James had approached Lord Anselm with only one guard and another wooden crate. He put his hand out to shake and said "Greeting's Lord Anselm of the Weald, I am James Conrad Sea Born of the isles of men." James turned grabbing something out of the wooden chest another three potions. James turned to hand them to Barad and said "The purple one will make anything smell appealing,the green is a posion and the blue can make anyone seem happy for at least a day." Jame smiled and waited to see what Lord Heldan may think of his gifts.

"And... Hail to you, Lord Conrad." Barad acknowledged, his left eyebrow raised. "Thank you for these most - ahem - thoughtful poultices. I must ask, though, what prompts this gifting of such fine elixirs?"

"Well aside from island hospitality I'd like to ask for your vote for the Lord Regent's election." James sent his guard away and sat down next to his new hopefully good friend. But no sooner than Lord Conrad had concluded, Heldan intercepted Barad Anselm and whisked him aside.

"My lord, I must inform you that Lord Conrad has spent the better part of this summit mustering support for his bid for Regency in the election tomorrow." Heldan whispered, his blank eyes peering over Barad's shoulder toward a bewildered James as they pressed in to huddle.

"So I've seen..."

"You have not promised a vote to him?"

"I have absolutely no intention of passing any ballot for this man." Barad whispered sharply.

"We will consider it. Strongly."

"Heldan..." Said Lord Anselm in a hushed tone. "Have you at last lost your mind?"

"It may be in our favor. Make it clear that we will consider. But it will take more than a handful of potions to sway us. Remember what we discussed - the equilibrium is shifting..."

Barad nodded in agreement and broke from his huddle with the wizened old man.

"So you seek the Regency, my esteemed Lord?" Barad said at last, turning back to James.

"Aye I'm not suprised at all that you know this. I've been told that those from the Weald are always well informed. Anyways Yes what is it you seek so that we can have a strong relationship and I get your vote." James looked at Lord Heldan interestingly. waiting for a reply. Before Barad even had the opportunity to open his mouth, it was Heldan who had made Anselm's counteroffer.

"The fleet of the Sharktooth Isle is rich in plunder. This much you so graciously demonstrated for the delegation earlier with your magic display. It is no secret that House Conrad is awash in wealth - the same wealth for which Anselm strives. In return for the vote of my liege, you are to provide a sampling of the finest gemstones of the Isles to the court of my lord in Riddom." At first perplexed by Heldan's counteroffer, Barad was quickly tantalized by the prospect of foreign wealth. For something as intangible and simple as a vote. He approved of Heldan's shrewd offer with a tacit nod.

James nodded to the demands after having to deal with the Kreshvi and there strength and his somewhat sarrow from Flint it was nice to have an easy measure to go to. "I think that is agreeable. However I will only give up said gems if I am made Lord Regent so should I not become it the deal is off. Other then that it has been a pleasure working with you." James put his hand out to shake so they may accept the deal before he would go back to his table to finish supper and perhaps head to bed.

"I think not." Barad interrupted. "You ask of me a vote. A single vote I can provide. Your Regency I alone have but a miniscule share of control over. Is it just to deny me my rightful compensation for a failure on your end rather than mine? I understand your trepidation, my good Lord, but my vote is a valuable thing indeed. Do you not think other Lords value my ballot? Perhaps - say- Lord Sovanid seeks the Regency. I doubt that a monied man such as he would waste his time haggling with such a lowly lord as I.

There is no room for stinginess in this game, Lord Conrad. A vote is a valuable thing. It must be compensated, and compensated well."

"Very well however should you vote for someone else then this deal is off. Also I know that The Sovanids don't want the regency but I understand your point. Also perhaps I could throw in some extra gems should I win. As for you Lords could also rally votes. Anyways as this matter is finished I have some dinner to eat." With that James shook hands with the lords and head back to his table happy he could count on two if not three votes.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

"You..." she tried to think of something to say, but this was new to her. "Your country will remember your sacrifice."

He took a long, rattling breath. "Fuck... that."

Damn...

sexxytexxy said
the tex has returned, gents.

Good to have you aboard again, sir.

Tales Of A Gilded Throne

With little fanfare, the delegates of the House Anselm rode through the alabaster streets of Skyhaven to the base of the grand Phoenix Tower - the nexus of all things in Elyden. The crowds - who had pressed into one another on these very streets to witness the splendor of House Sovanid and Marrow, the grand parade of Khitani horses, or the fantastic Odeshian elephants - had dispersed at least a candlemark before. There was no celebration to witness the arrival of the representatives of House Anselm. Of all the noble houses of Elyden, none were more overlooked than that of the sons of Yorick Anselm. Of those serfs and burghers who could even recall House Anselm, fewer still knew for what Anselm was known. They could not ascribe to it the glory and majesty of the greater houses. Sovanid and Paragon conjured images of fabulous wealth; Marrow and Ashtoken were exotic and regal. Lord James Conrad commanded the formidable fleet of Sharktooth Isle, and Lord Roman Benedikt had piety that all other lords envied. What, then, did Anselm have?

The Weald: an inarable wilderness inhabited by a tribe of recalcitrant savages. Nary a day went by that Valerien Paragon's name went uncursed for gifting to Yorick the most depauperate of all the realms.

The delegation of House Anselm could scarcely compare to those of the earlier houses. They were two: Lord Barad Anselm and Heldan - part soothsayer, part adviser to the Anselm Court. They rode upon Northern Painteds, a stocky, hardier breed from the north of Elyden more accustomed to plowing stoney fields than long riding or campaigning. To the monied men of Skyhaven, Alabastis, and Talonspire, they were a pauper's horse. Amongst elephants and Khitani warsteeds, Lord Anselm and Heldan may as well have rode to Skyhaven on asses. The pair were met by stablehands and squires who accepted their steeds all the same, taking the reigns from the horses as the two dismounted and made their way up the steps up to the atrium of the Phoenix Tower.

Striding in the cool, long shadow of the Skyhaven's immaculate citadel, Heldan withdrew the gray cloak from his face and set it about his neck and revealed a positively ancient visage. His scalp was entirely bald and speckled here and there with liverspots. Crows feet crisscrossed about his face, joining into thick webs of wrinkles that hung from the corners of his mouth and under his eyes while a long, pointed nose drooped down over his mouth. Most commanding about the cloaked elder was his eyes - there were no pupils to be seen. One might think Heldan blind had they not seen him walk without difficulty up the steps - without so much as the aid of a staff in spite of his age. Milky white eyes peered forever forward, perhaps unsettling the guards who allowed he and Lord Barad Anselm through the vestibule without delay.

Barad was far younger than his adviser. He was a small chinned man who seemed to scowl constantly. He sported a beard and a thin goatee of the same scraggly brown hair cut short upon his head. While his beard and mustache worked well to conceal his weak chin, it did nothing to hide the bitter frown. A navy wool tabard draped over a leather tunic bore the wolverine sigil of House Anselm, identifying him to the guards who could not readily recognize the Anselm Lord by his face like most could for the Lords of the greater houses. With no celebration or recognition, Barad and Heldan were allowed beyond the phoenix portcullis into the main parlor where the other lords and their entourages had gathered.

Barad made no attempt to engage in small talk with the other lords, painfully envious of the numerous guests they had all brought with them. They had arrived with knights and honor guards clad in the finest armor; beautiful, bronze-skinned maidens of the southeast; merchants whose personal wealth dwarfed the coffers of lesser houses many times over. Barad's entourage consisted of a single decrepit Eldfolk seer. Even so, in spite of Barad's disdain for the Eldfolk and the wealth they had sapped from his house, the bitter lord recognized Heldan's talents and typically heeded whatever wise counsel he could provide. The ancient adviser's wisdom notwithstanding, Barad wanted nothing more than to hide from the scrutiny of the other houses. With Heldan in tow, he slipped through the crowd and came across the parlor's grand mural. There were a few others here, orbiting beyond the main congregation and inspecting the painting. A large swathe of the wall had been devoted to a fresco commemorating a battle against the fell wyrms and the heroes that slew them. Displayed prominently near the center, Barad found the progenitor of his house. Yorick Anselm, the young woodcutter-turned-wyrmslayer, lunged across the battlefield amidst sweeping brushstrokes of red fire. A bluish-grey blade held into his hand was buried into the chest of a collapsed wyrm. His fanged, toadlike head gasped one last ember-choked breath as Yorick's blade let loose a swirling river of thick, black wyrmblood.

Barad's hand reached for his hilt and he drew the blade out halfway of its sheath, admiring the lower half of a bastard sword comprised of a shimmering bluish-gray metal of the same color as the sword in the mural.

"Imagine," Heldan rasped, "that very blade pierced the heart of a wyrm." Indeed, two halves of giant wyrm scale had been embedded into the hilt wrappings of the sword. Two halves of a single wyrmscale - an armor that could withstand the blow of any mortal weapon - that had been sundered by the very sword that the had now been incorporated into. Not even a chest scale from the terrible Golborag could withstand the Starsteel point of Perdition.

"What of it?" Barad huffed, stuffing the blade back into it's sheath. "What did he - what did we get of it? See how we are rewarded."

Barad gestured to lavish lords and their great entourages. "They were the ones that were compensated. Yorick and his sons saw none of the spoils. We have been had."

Heldan sighed. "Perhaps we have. But fret not: there is a great change coming. The Long Winter draws near, as does a great shifting of the equilibrium. Here we shall see the other houses prepare to tighten their belts. Opportunities shall be made at this council and in the coming days."

"Anselm will feast whilst all others starve."