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    1. Jinxer 10 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Currently living inside Life is Strange.
9 yrs ago
I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack.

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I find the idea very interesting and, as Durnehviir said, the intense detail is very much appreciated.

My immediate idea would be for a young, by which I mean mid to late twenties, Chancellor (or even Grand Chancellor) in Erubesco whose Gift would be a Sound Manipulation (with which he can largely only use to eavesdrop on others with). He would be mild in nature but highly intellectual (and unwittingly snobbish about it) and would use this as a justification for both his role and actions (even though his heritage would of course have influenced his position more).

That is only my first thought and if it does not fit into any plan you may have I will have another, and possibly multiple, further thoughts!


She breathed out heavily as the Father left, his gaze lingering briefly on her before he left. Tension, pent up in her body, faded and left her feeling exhausted with a fresh headache pounding its way from side to side inside her skull. At a moment's notice she would have been ready to leap up and push Eve out of the door, had the Father proved violent, but the man was in much more control of himself than the murderous air he had been generating had suggested. Perhaps it was because she saw him through the lens of, oft exaggerated, tales about the Luthrans and their cut-throat nature, coupled with her current sense of weakness, but she had felt sure that at least one person in the room would not be leaving alive.

Her gaze drifted back to Dalious, pushed back to the bed bodily by his leader, and eyed the wound at his side. Now that she could see the dressings, she saw that her suspicion had been correct and that, although the Father had not lived up to the Luthran reputation, some Dalious' fellows had not taken his intervention lightly.

"If I owed you anything before, we're now even." She grunted, nausea rocking through her but she ignored it and turned to Eve. She could see the concern in her friend's face but she could see the disapproval there also, her risky actions in saving the pirate not winning any admiration from the Princess. Now, however, was not the time to try and explain the responsibility she had felt although it was certainly the time for an apology. "I'm sorry, Princess. I did not mean to make an inappropriate request of you but I was worried for your safety..." She trailed off, knowing that the direction she was taking would hardly fend off Eve's temper at all. How hard it was to carry out one's duties properly while still being a friend! On the surface the task seemed one and the same and indeed, in many ways, it was but the method was so different that it frustrated her efforts and everything felt awkward and buried under formality between them.

The matter with Eve was something that she would resolve later, when they had a private moment. It would, perhaps, be an idea to plan how they acted around one another with so many unfamiliar ears surrounding them. Coming here to Exodus without any agreement in place was fraying her nerves and, she sensed, getting in the way of their friendship as were all of the new, foreign experiences forming around them. Suddenly, Laurel felt a burning moment of jealousy as the healer, having woken up in shock, gave out her orders to the two wounded and then smiled at her. She was grateful to the woman who had gone some way to allaying her concerns about the Freyjan people but the way Eve responded to her made her feel uncomfortable, like she herself had suddenly fallen into shade and had been forgotten. She was a guard here, though, and nothing more so surely it was only reasonable for that to happen? The feelings, along with the pounding of her head and the accompanying weakness it inflicted on the rest of her body, were competing too much for her attention and she had to fight to think properly.

"Thank you, for your ministrations." Laurel gingerly felt the stitches, wincing at the touch but she had to acknowledge that the Freyjan had done a good job, better than she could have done herself. With an effort she lifted herself slowly off the bed to stand, shooting a look at Eve as the Princess instinctively moved to help her; they both knew that it was not normal for a royal to assist their guard so much. "I will be most careful, Princess. I feel strong enough to depart, I do not want to keep you or the Princess from the festival any longer." She bowed to Thyrri stiffly, her wound shouting in anger at the movement, before walking from the room as confidently as she dared.

It was only outside of the room that she realised she was still lacking her proper attire, the bow delivered back to Eve's quarters and her leathers left outside the spa and presumably sent the same way. The robe she was currently wrapped in was certainly not appropriate for rejoining the festival but she also did not want to leave Eve alone, even if she herself was no longer in any real position to protect her.

"I might need to change, before we go." She said to Eve in a low voice, once they were out of earshot of the others, gesturing at her clothes. "Your father won't be pleased I was injured, I can't be bringing any more shame on Earthica or else he'll have my head.





Erasmi Andora

@Raylah


The battle down in the arena drew to a close with a final, titanic clash before the Earthican warrior was crowned the champion. From the corner of his eye Erasmi could see the pleasure on the face of the man's king and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He respect their strength as warriors, it was not something that could be denied after all, and he respected the ruthlessness of the Luthran people which carried them through to that grand finale but they were all fools, unused to the machinations of a proper kingdom like Exodus or Primfia. Too few in number to understand politics and schemes, they had seen the tournament merely as what it was presented as and thrown their all into it.

Still, it had surprise Erasmi that so many Exodus warriors had taken part, even if there was barely a veteran to be seen on the field. He wondered whether he should have thrown some more of his men into the ring but chastised himself as soon as the thought began to take hold; second-guessing past actions was a fruitless and wasteful activity. For now, he would ignore the 'shame' his kingdom's loss in the tournament would bring and move forwards. He had never expected anything more, having only committed some of the green-behind-the-ears warriors onto the field to gain some experience; his real warriors had watched from amongst the crowd, learning and eyeing up potential threats as he had ordered them to. Information was power, after all.

He rose, bowing farewell to the Exodus monarchs and then gazed across the crowd. She would be hear, somewhere, he knew, but he would never see her. That was why she was so good at what she did and now he had a task for her, something she might actually enjoy after the miserably boring job of infiltrating the royal household. With that useful groundwork laid he had so many options available to him and plans and schemes layered in his mind, one atop another before the more fanciful being dismissed.

His signal given, Erasmi left the royal box and headed back to the carriages, some of his guard falling into line protectively around him but he left them at the entrance to the stables and walked inside. There was silence except for the sounds of resting horses but he knew as he headed to his carriage that he was not alone.

"Aziza." He called, confident that she would be nearby.

It was time to end her boredom, time to set things moving.
@Aamaya@Raylah

Oh dear, I’m going to end up making him creepy now, I feel. Villain material, right here.


With fuddled memories, Laurel slowly came to. She was not sure whether she had truly passed out or merely become so concussed by her injury, and the ensuing blood loss, that her mind had fallen into a temporary state of inattentiveness. Either way, it was dangerous and a foolish error on her part, being surrounded by potential enemies in a foreign kingdom when she was supposed to be responsible for a high ranking official’s safety.

On instinct she attempted to sit but firm hands pushed her back to the bed. Her mind cleared and she recognised the face of the Freyjan Princess, Thyrri, the one whom Eve seemed to have brefriended.

“I am sorry, but you really need to stay in bed for at least a few hours. If you get up, you might faint again and injure yourself even harder. I will let princess Evangeline know where you are.”

With reluctance she yielded to the healer’s instructions and did not attempt to rise again, instead mumbling a thank you although it came out so quietly and hoarsely she could not be sure Thyrri heard, especially as the woman seemed exhausted and soon fell asleep in a chair set against the wall. Before she did, she checked on the other patient in the room whom Laurel had not noticed in her dim-witted state. With surprise she recognised the face, and clothing, of the Lutheran warrior who had struck down his comrades while protecting her. His face was abnormally pale and she could hear how faint his breaths were, indicating he was severely injured. She wondered who had inflicted such harm on the talented warrior but her thoughts were interrupted by Eve who had swept into the room, now wearing the dress she had spurned earlier.

If she were more alert, Laurel might have been more surprised by the Princess’s sudden change in heart with regards the vestment but she had grown accustomed to Eve’s rapid changes of heart over the years. She was not so inconsiderate to be called whimsical but she often acted before thinking and often found herself regretting her words or actions, working backward to correct her mistakes after the fact. It was a sometimes frustrating trait her friend possessed but it made her all the more interesting and attractive, at least in Laurel’s eyes.

"Hey...", the princess whispered, fingers caressing the back of Laurel’s hand, "are you okay?" There was guilt that did not belong in Eve’s eyes, roaming over Laurel’s face and darting to the stitched wound on her head. "I did not want this to happen... I should have said something, done something, stopped you -" Laurel shook her head but her mind was still foggy and the words she wanted to say formulated slowly in her head. "I am sorry."

With an effort she clasped Eve’s hand, the gentle touch igniting emotions she was in no fit state to examine and understand and, at times, made her feel uncomfortable. Focusing as much as she could she stared into Eve’s eyes.

“You’re not to blame at all, Eve.” The words, though simple, felt heavy in her mouth but with every effort she felt some small sense of normality returning to her body; she had always found that ‘resting’ made her feel sluggish. Movement was her natural state of being. “I gave my name out without thinking and this is the consequence of that. At least I can still carry out my duties. None of this is your fault, we both have things expected of us here.”

She stopped as a huge, mountainous man entered the room. Levonian people were not small but this man made Laurel feel so, his size and presence a weight on her body with every instinct she had screaming that this man was dangerous. His eyes had a threatening stare to them and she could almost smell the bloodlust and rage rolling off of him as he saw the wounded Thanatos warrior laying in the room. Disappointment was reflected in his posture when he noticed them, the man becoming more guarded as he approached the resting man of his kingdom.

"A pity."

Laurel forced herself up despite the banging raging inside her head and the shocks of pain the movement sent shooting through her body. Hiding it as best she could, she looked to Eve. Her protective nature wanted to send her away, knowing that this man was here with murder in his mind but the part of her that was slowly coming to, the quick-witted young woman who had become used to politics despite her distaste for them through her friendship with the princess, told her that having two princesses in the room would be enough to thwart this man’s intentions.

Although her memory was dim she had finally identified him by reputation as the Father and pieces of the puzzle began to fall in place. The potentially fatal wound that had been inflicted on the Thanatos warrior, his actions on the battlefield, Luthra’s reputation as an unforgiving people and the Father’s presence all drew her to a conclusion that, by protecting her, the warrior had condemned himself to a quiet and discrete murder by his own people.

“You should be grateful to him, you know.” Lacking the energy, she found herself forgetting the deference which she should be showing toward the Father but he was not truly royalty so it was not a proper grievance or lapse. Her mind was too preoccupied, racing to keep ahead of her mouth as a desperate, and pathetic sounding, solution crystallised in her thoughts. ”Your other warriors apparently forgot the rule about not aiming for the head. Luckily he stopped them before they could break the rules and cause an incident.” She pointed to her own head wound. “Now it’s just the Exodus lot who’ve broken their own rules and you’re in the clear. To me it looks like judgement has already been rendered but not enough to demand uncomfortable questions.” Laurel looked pointedly at the almost still figure of the Thanatos warrior, totally in the Father’s shadow.

”I’d like to thank him, once he wakes up, even if his attention was misguided.”

Her mind strayed a little, vague memories of her short loss of control returning and seeing the shocked face of the man, a boy really, who had inflicted the injury which weakened her so upon her. She doubted that he had meant to do so, probably lacking in experience and forgetting what little training he had in the heat of the contest. Later she would need to find him and make sure he was not executed for his mistake but for now she forced herself back to the present.

“Princess,” she spoke to Eve, using her friend’s title now that they were in the presence of strangers, “could you send someone to find the warrior who hit me? I want to speak with him, before he is punished. This was only meant to be a friendly contest, after all.”

She felt exhausted, knowing that she had overstepped her bounds as a mere bodyguard and warrior but she would regret feeling that she had done nothing to protect others in front of her. Perhaps she had the wrong sense of affairs but she thought that this entire festival was meant to bring peace and build alliances and, although it was above her station to think she could impact anything, she wanted to at least make sure she did not cause that well meaning intention to be turned on its head and start unnecessary bloodletting.
@Raylah

Not a bad idea!

Also apologies again for the rushed post - on my phone during lunch break again as I'm away this weekend and wanted to get something up!
Laurel Mith

@Aamaya@Raylah


With the contestants thinning out Laurel soon picked out the Captain of the Kingsguard fighting, surrounded by Exodus warriors. Although no match for the veteran's skill there were enough to cause concern so she changed direction, heading to support the man. She barely it made half the way before being intercepted by a roaming group of warriors, also bearing the Exodus colours. There were a lot of them remaining, she noted, although there has been more of them to begin with anyway.

She slid to a halt, raising her shield as the first rank engaged her. Neatly stepping back she swept their attacks aside and then countered with some swift blows to their chests, the mace denting in their breastplates easily. If it were a real fight the attacks would hardly slow them down but in this tournament the blows removed from paeticipation so she made full use of the tactic, dealing superficial damage to armour to defeat her enemies.

With three down she found herself with more room to move, the warriors apparently nervous of her feroxity, and so she pressed her advantage, pushing them back with wide swipes of the mace while defending her body with the mace. One warrior found his nerve and charged her but she neatly sidestepped, bashing him with her shield and in doing so hurling him to the floor. She stepped in to deal a final blow but pain erupted in the side of her head.

She fell to the ground, rolling and leaping back to her feet on pure instinct while her mind was stunned. Her vision had blurred, marked with bright spots of unnatural light which blinded all else and a roaring thumping echoed around in her head making it hard to think. Her hair on the left side of her head felt wet and aomething, blood she assumed, was trickling down the side of her face; someone had ignored the rules and dealt a hard blow to her head.

Dazed, she stumbled back, unsure of where her opponents were, shield up vaguely before her while a low whistling sound began to grow in volume inside her skull. She felt anger rising with the sound and for a moment, still weak from the shock, lost to the battle frenzy.

Without thinking she found herself crashing bodily into an Exodus warrior, thumping his chestplate in with the rounded edge of her shield while he lay on the ground before hurling it at a nearby warrior, a sharp crack announcing she had broken his arm with the flung weapon. Falling upon a terrified man she swept his weapons aside and grabbed him by the armour, lifting him up and then throwing him over her shoulder before stomping on his chest before headbutting a charging warrior, knocking aside their thrusting spear with her mace, with enough force to knock him out cold.

Regaining control she stumbled, the strength that has sustained her vicious attack draining away and leaving her feeling every shred of thumping pain from her head wound. She gingerly felt the injury, her gloved hand coming away slick with her own blood. Dimly she was aware that such injuries had a propensity to bleed heavily and that same subconscious manner took control, taking her away from the arena toward the gate the defeated were leaving by.

She wondered whether she would be disqualified, she had attacked someone aiming at their head in the brief moment she lost control but surely that would be overlooked, considering the wound she had received first? Whatever the case she knew her role in the fight was over, there was no sense continuing in a tournament she had had no interest in to start with.

Healers approached her as she left the arena but she waved them away after accepting some bandages, insisting that she could see to herself. After receiving directions she headed toward the spa although guards stood outside. They looked her over but apparently decided she was not a threat and allowed her through. Once inside she saw that, more likely, they had allowed her entry because of her sex as two of the Freyjan Princess were inside although only one appeared to be using the spa's facilities.

"Ah, your Highnesses. I apologise for the intrusion." She bowed, wincing at the pain the movement sent rippling through her head. "I was just in search of some clean water, I did not wish to bother the healers. I will not be long." She tried to give them privacy, moving to the other side of the room and undressed before beginning to wash her hair although the hot water pummeled the wound, making her feel dizzy. She paused, unsteady and holding herself up against the wall before continuing. She would have to find the one who had hit her and give him a piece of her mind, at least when she felt up to it.
Laurel Mith

@Sol Grim


If not for the comforting weight of the hefty axe in her armoured hand, Laurel might have felt nervous as she joined the other Earthican warriors, lining up alongside the Luthran entrants to the tournament. She always felt calmer with a weapon in her hand, even if it were merely the hunting dagger she kept in her belt at all times, the notion of protection a soothing influence upon her nerves; it was why she always carried her bow with her, where possible. The other warriors engaged in their usual pre-battle rituals, praying or drinking or carrying out some superstitious 'lucky' chant or action. Laurel had none of these, she had been taught not to bother with such acts as they often distracted one from the upcoming battle; leaving matters to luck and fortune was a fast way to get killed. At least in this battle failure should not mean death, with all of the weapons blunted as they were.

Not distracted by any preoccupation as she was, Laurel caught sight of the Luthran man swaggering towards her. He had the quiet confidence about him a seasoned warrior possessed and she noted his face for future reference although whatever he had been planning to say to her was interrupted by the announcer going through the rules of the tournament. The restriction of attacks to the head made sense, she conceded, especially in light of the fact few had been given the option to wear a helmet and she was glad for this; the plate was constricting enough and a metal helmet would merely add to the stifling feel of the armour.

"Listen, love, they didn't tell me any women were fighting in this. It's pirate code for me not to strike one, especially one as fair as you. So, I must forfeit." Before she could respond the gates opened and they were ordered out into the arena and whatever else he said was lost to her ears as she filed out with the other Earthican warriors. The Princess, the very beautiful woman Laurel had seen talking to Eve earlier, spoke to them and wished them luck before the fighting commenced.

Perhaps unwisely, the Earthican troupe split away and went after enemies on their own. Apart from the Luthrans it appeared that most of the other warriors were engaging similarly, the Exodus challengers especially appeared to be used to the art of duelling and became flustered when presented with multiple enemies. Laurel, for her part, felled three Primfirans in quick succession as they came for her one at a time although with barely any space to breathe between them with sharp blows to the chest with her axe while knocking aside their flailing attacks with her shield. Vibrations from each blow, both given and taken, ricocheted up her arms but the armour supported and cushioned her and besides, she could feel the difference in physical strength between her and these warriors who had only trained with the sword or spear while she had been learning the art of the bow for her entire adult life and much of her childhood as well; the muscle power of a bowwoman was not something to be trifled with.

An Exodus warrior tried to take her from the side, sliding a spear toward her chest but she batted the point aside with her axe before slamming her shield into the man's chest. Knocked from his feet, the man lost hold of his spear as he hit the ground heavily in a mild daze. Taking advantage, Laurel stomped on the man's already slightly buckled breastplate until it was sufficiently dented for him to be called from the field, defeated.

She paused for a moment, taking stock of the field and barely noticed the swarm of Luthran's sweeping toward her. They were on her before she had time to react and a sword came swinging for the back of her head despite the prohibition on such a move. Ducking, she started to bring her shield round but knew there would not be time and instinctively stepped back to try and avoid the blow. Would it be enough? Time seemed to slow as she saw the blade reaching for her and she realised that she had not been fast enough, the attack already in motion before she had even noticed the opponents bearing down on her.

The man from earlier, the one who smelt strongly of alcohol, dived deftly into the gap and deflected the blow and made short work of his fellows with an impressive display of skill and strength. "Impressed?" He asked, being distracted in the moment, looking down at his fallen countrymen and exposing himself to attack. If Laurel were less scrupulous she might have taken the opportunity but it was not in her nature, nor would it be wise with the eyes of so many royals watching. Eve, surely, would not approve and she would most definitely be somewhere in the crowd; Laurel had not had the time to search those seated in the royal box for her face but was confident her friend would be up there. "They never could deal with a southpaw, poor chaps."

"You do realise that we're opponents in this tournament, don't you?" She asked, bodily pulling him to the side to swing widely at a charging Exodus warrior, hurling the man back and snapping the haft of her trusty axe in the process. She tossed the useless weapon aside, kicking up a short sword one of the Luthran's had dropped. "And that the Mother and Father are watching?" She did not know much of Luthran politics, nor much of any politcs for that matter, but she knew enough to know that the rulers of Luthran were here and would only bother showing up if they wanted to engage in the festival's opportunities and that started with this blasted brawl in the arena.

"I suppose if you're dead set against 'striking' me then we can avoid one another and if we're the last two standing you can, being of a gentlemanly nature, concede the battle." Without waiting for agreement she set off toward a melee between a dozen or so warriors reaching its climax and forced her way in, laying about with shield and sword. The unfamiliar weapon proved ineffective and she swapped it for one of her opponent's maces after pulling it free from his surprised grip and then turned it against him, hammering the side of his armour while heaving one of his fellows bodily off his feet with a shield bash and then finishing the job with a mace blow to the chest. It was a good weapon for the rules of the tournament and she made short work of the combatants facing her, some making the false assumption that a woman would not be of any threat to their prospects of victory and paying for it with an abrupt end to their tournament participation.

The field was thinning out to a small number of remaining foes and Laurel took stock, taking measured breaths to calm herself. In such a place she could not let herself lose to battle frenzy. Without helmets anyone coming across her in such a state would stand no chance and she refused to be the one who caused an incident at such an important event. She did not feel tired, yet, from her exertions as she had not followed the example of many others running around the arena to find a suitable enemy and instead had let them come to her. The weight of the armour did bear down on her shoulders but it was nothing compared to the effort of releasing arrows from a full sized warbow until her fingers bled from the pulling of the string. Much longer and she may become slower as it took its toll but for now she still felt energetic, the thrill of battle rushing through her veins.

Adjusting her grip on the mace she set off at a walking pace toward the next gathering of combatants, watching their movements before charging into the midst of it all.







Exodus truly was a place of overflowing, excessive luxury. It was not the first time that Erasmi had visited the city and nor would it be his last but the first impression he had gained of the place as a young man had not changed. Primfira had its own fashions and exaggerations born of leftover wealth but not in this almost zealous expenditure the people of Exodus seemed determined to adhere to. With their scents and oils, added to their unholy love of bathing in and drinking of blood, always others', he always wondered that they had yet to fall to ruin.

Then his mind and intellect would admonish his personal distaste, pointing out their expansive populace and shrewd finance had given them a strong starting position from which they had only advanced to greater strength. Infighting had crippled Primfira in the early race for power and it had only begun its recovery under his rule, many of his greatest achievements brought about by copying the traits of Exodus he found had merit with a particular regard to their pride as a race. The manner of Erasmi's own rise rise to power had encouraged youths after him to train and become strong, perhaps not to the standard of the naturally powerful Levonian people but enough to raise his nation's status.

He freed his mind of the analysis of times past, this was not a time for such philosophy when the present affair would be crucial to the shaping of the future. With that focus in mind, Erasmi ascended the steps and entered the royal box in the arena. He gaze coolly, calmly over those gathered there with their attention focused on the combatants below. Some of his own warriors fought down there but he had no hopes of victory but the experience would be invaluable to them later so he had encouraged the eager amongst his guard to enter the contest. He had no need of protection right then, after all if anyone was to make trouble it would be himself or the Luthrans and the latter looked to have sent many of their own force into the battle also.

With a wry smile, quickly smothered, he saw Valeri engaging the focus of this festival, the incredibly desirable Princess Amaya, in conversation. The girl worked fast and he had no doubt that he would soon 'discover' his daughter to be a close confidant of the Freyjan Princess. That or her secret lover, depending on which way her desires took her; once she had made a decision the Andoran Princess would get her way one way or another with her infallible guile.

The King turned his attention toward the other royals in the box and made his entrance, his Queen would join them when she so desired, and stepped to the front row where the Freyjan monarchs were seated. Whether or not those particular chairs had been reserved for the hosts of the festival mattered not to him, Erasmi would not allow himself to be considered second although he gave the two a polite bow.

"Your Majesties, I am afraid I must apologise for my late entrance. My guard were rather paranoid over the multitudes your generosity has attracted." A bald faced lie, they had been busy sending disguised groups to places around the city to gather intelligence, but the royals had no reason to believe otherwise. "I confess, I am struck with admiration at the festivities you have manufactured today; your daughter truly has learned well." Without invitation he seated himself next to the Freyjan king, relaxing into the seat. "I wait with bated breath for what other surprises you have in store for our entertainment." He smiled coolly, a polite expression that had little to no genuine warmth in it, before turning to pretend interest in the melee below.
@Raylah

I'm glad you've said that, I was trying to make sure he blends with those characters already made!
@Aamaya How does this look for the King of Primfira?

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