Kassarock

We have to save the world again? I thought we were done with this crap!

Damn, that's weird, I was toying with a premise really similar to this myself recently. Not 100% sure I can commit, but I'll keep my eye on this, might bounce some character ideas around later.

Kass's Kharacters

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F A Z A H R A A L - H A M I N A

Art from TES: Legends ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name - Captain Fazahra al-Hamina Gender - Female. Race - Redguard. Age - Late twenties to mid-thirties. Height - Taller than average, around 5'9". Profession - Sailor. Family Origins - Hammerfell, Abah's Landing Birth Sign - The Thief. ____________________________________________________ S K I L L S & A B I L I T I E S E X P E R T Blade Redguards are said to be the most naturally talented warriors in Tamriel, Fazahra is no exception to this. Shipboard life can be violent, put a blade in her hands and she will produce dead men for you. A D E P T Acrobatics A lifetime of climbing rigging and running over heaving decks has left Fazahra more nible than most, with an excellent sense of balance. Mercantile Commerce and trade is the lifeblood of most ships. Goods must be acquired and sold, ships provisioned, crews hired and paid. N O V I C E Athletics Hauling rope and canvas makes one develop certain muscles. Smithing Minor repair work on vessels is often undertaken by the crew, Fazahra has a working knowledge of cold metal working and carpentry. Unarmoured The greatest danger at sea is the sea itself, what sort of fool wears armour on a boat? ____________________________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T Weapons A curved steel sword and dagger, of traditional Yokundan design. Armour Nothing put some light cloth and leather boots. Miscellaneous Items A water skin. Unenchanted gold jewellery and medallions, carriable wealth. Several bottles of good Stros M'Kai Rum. Carpentry and miscellaneous tools. A suspiciously large bag of gold, well hidden. Rope, so much rope. One ship, in a ruinous state of repair. A broken compass, kept close to the heart. ____________________________________________________

A P P E A R A N C E Captain Fazahra al-Hamina is an imposing Redguard woman of larger than average height and build. Wide hipped and thick waisted, her figure looks stocky and strong. She has spent over half her life hauling rope and canvas or pulling at an oar, activities which have placed a significant amount of muscle on top of her already oversized frame. The dark skin of her muscled arms are lined with the pale scars of old injuries, some from the lash of an overtightened line snapping free, others from slash of a steel blade. Her hands are similarly marked, they bear callus upon callus, forged through hard and heavy work, leaving them as tough and unyielding as the timbers of a ship. The features of her face bear a similarity to that of her build. A broad nose, a wide forehead, dark eyes spaced perhaps a little too far apart to be considered a model for classical standards of feminine beauty. The lower half of her face is dominated by a set of full lips, most often parted in a open smile showing white pearlescent teeth. She wears her hair long, pushed back away from her face, but left to hang freely about her shoulders. The tightly coiled black hair is teased into numerous braids, adorned with beads and golden rings. Her ears are clearly visible when her hair is worn in this fashion, showing off a glimmering array of golden earrings, some simple hoops, others dangling large pedants of semi-precious stones or seashells. The captain dresses simply, loose linen shirts tucked into tight fitting dark breeches. She wears thigh high black leather boots of undeniable quality. From a shoulder slung sword belt a curved Redguard scimitar of plain and mean looking steel hangs along with a matching dagger. The adorned hilts contrasting with the gilded medallions and talismans they jingle alongside with. This are utilitarian weapons, tools for killing. In colder and wetter weather she has a long oil skin coat that she wraps about her person, along with a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun from her eyes and the rain from the face. ____________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y Fazahra is undoubted a woman who has endured much and led a tough life. One might expect evidence of this toughness, this hard and unyielding nature, to give her character a similar quality, that she would be some stern figurehead from some veteran warship, harshly carved from the boughs of a blackened oak. But the demeanour of Captain Fazahra could not be further from this image. Her face most often bears a smile so wide and open, it disarms those around her of the dangerous nature that hardened body forebodes. It is a friendly face. One that welcomes bosom buddies and heart companions to entrust their hopes and desire to her. Her husky voice has a singsong quality to it, and when she laughs they are full and hearty. Fazahra has a temper to her though, one that can whip up as quickly as a summer squall, though it is as apt to disappear just as fast as it emerged. She is not particularly violent by nature, even when wroth she is unlikely to reach for her sword unless threatened. And there is not much she feels threatened by. Overall the captain gives of an air of confidence and easy bravado. She seems self-assured of her abilities, and at ease in any company. This combination of self belief and friendliness makes her a very outgoing and extraverted individual. When at port and in taverns she draws in the people around her, making friends easily, attracting lovers easily. But like the seas she calls her home, many may swim in those warm and shallow waters without ever knowing the abyss that lies beneath them. A chasm of dark fathomless depths, in which one could easily drown. There is an ocean of hurt and pain inside of this woman, no matter how much sun shines on the surface. She rarely shows it when around others. Perhaps only when particularly deep in her cups might those mournful truths take hold and the perpetual smile she wears falters and fades. Her hand might creep to the pouch on the sword belt, the one that lies closest to her heart, close around the broken compass that resides there. Glass shattered, no direction left to give. Her greatest regret is the man that owned that compass once. The one who loved Fazahra more than anything, who would have done anything for her. The one she killed. Her goal? Happiness, Freedom, Escape. Escape from the past, the past of who she was, what she did, and what she had others do for her. Maybe out there, on the open sea, the wind at her back once more, she will be able to leave behind all of the pain and all of the guilt that has brought with her to Anvil. ____________________________________________________ H I S T O R Y Captain Fazahra is a talkative individual, she will freely converse on many different themes and topics. She tells many tall tales of the strange far off lands that she has seen, of the raucous nights spent in ports all over Tamriel, of ghost stories featuring phantom ships and dread sea monsters. If required she will even talk of more mundane things, of her craft as a sailor, of the fluctuating price of trade goods, even of the weather. But there is one thing she very, very rarely talks about directly. Who exactly she is, where she comes from, and what exactly she was doing before she came to Anvil.

Despite her silence on these matters, a discerning mind and well trained eye would be able to puzzle a good deal of her history out of her just by looking and listening, filling in the gaps with the odd well reasoned guess.

Firstly, Fazahra is a Redguard that much is clear by her dark skin. Her accent places her as a native of Hammerfell, and to a trained ear, south east Hammerfell with a enough Tamrielic creole mixed in to presume that she grew up in one of the large port cities that dot the coast along those bleak shores. Rihad or Taneth, Abah's Landing perhaps.

Secondly, Fazahra up poor, that's in her accent too, as well as the evidence of a lifetime of hard work on those callused hands of hers. The flashy displays of gold that she wears at her ears and belt speak to this as well, it is most often those who come into some deal of wealth later in life that have the greatest desire to flaunt it.

Third, though she claims to be a sailor and merchant, Fazahra is no stranger to violence. The scars on her arms, her self assurance around dangerous company, and the casual way she carries the blade at her hip makes this all to evidently clear.

Then there's what can be learned about Fazahra since she arrived in Anvil a month past as a passenger on merchant vessel. The first thing she did was sour the docks for a ship to purchase herself. She found one that satisfied her, although in need or some serious work, and set about repairing and provisioning the vessel herself. All of this was paid for upfront, in cold hard cash. Golden septims, not letters of credit or bankers drafts.

So, we have a woman who grew up poor, spent her life at sea and around violence, who suddenly finds herself with a significant deal of hard currency, and is purposefully obscure about what exactly she was doing before she arrived in her current port of call.

There is one explanation for these traits that fits much better than any other:

Fazahra is a pirate.

Or rather, Fazahra was a pirate. Anvil is not generally known as a safe harbour for the the buccaneers of the Abecean Sea, its a well maintained Imperial Port, not a haven of criminals like Port Hunding or Abah's Landing. A Pirate Captain, flush with gold in need of a new ship could certainly find somewhere much better to buy a raiding vessel and raise a crew of marauders.

Perhaps that explains the slight edge that the good Captain seems to have developed of late, the one that keeps her checking the shadows, and has her always sat in the taverns where she can keep one eye on the door. A pirate who broke faith with their compatriots, especially one who may have swindled more than their fair share of booty, would certainly have reason to keep looking over their shoulder.

But then again, it seems that everyone in Anvil is watching the shadows these days...

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Fazahra al-Hamina

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F A Z A H R A A L - H A M I N A

Art from TES: Legends ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name - Captain Fazahra al-Hamina Gender - Female. Race - Redguard. Age - Late twenties to mid-thirties. Height - Taller than average, around 5'9". Profession - Sailor. Family Origins - Hammerfell, Abah's Landing Birth Sign - The Thief. ____________________________________________________ S K I L L S & A B I L I T I E S E X P E R T Blade Redguards are said to be the most naturally talented warriors in Tamriel, Fazahra is no exception to this. Shipboard life can be violent, put a blade in her hands and she will produce dead men for you. A D E P T Acrobatics A lifetime of climbing rigging and running over heaving decks has left Fazahra more nible than most, with an excellent sense of balance. Mercantile Commerce and trade is the lifeblood of most ships. Goods must be acquired and sold, ships provisioned, crews hired and paid. N O V I C E Athletics Hauling rope and canvas makes one develop certain muscles. Smithing Minor repair work on vessels is often undertaken by the crew, Fazahra has a working knowledge of cold metal working and carpentry. Unarmoured The greatest danger at sea is the sea itself, what sort of fool wears armour on a boat? ____________________________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T Weapons A curved steel sword and dagger, of traditional Yokundan design. Armour Nothing put some light cloth and leather boots. Miscellaneous Items A water skin. Unenchanted gold jewellery and medallions, carriable wealth. Several bottles of good Stros M'Kai Rum. Carpentry and miscellaneous tools. A suspiciously large bag of gold, well hidden. Rope, so much rope. One ship, in a ruinous state of repair. A broken compass, kept close to the heart. ____________________________________________________

A P P E A R A N C E Captain Fazahra al-Hamina is an imposing Redguard woman of larger than average height and build. Wide hipped and thick waisted, her figure looks stocky and strong. She has spent over half her life hauling rope and canvas or pulling at an oar, activities which have placed a significant amount of muscle on top of her already oversized frame. The dark skin of her muscled arms are lined with the pale scars of old injuries, some from the lash of an overtightened line snapping free, others from slash of a steel blade. Her hands are similarly marked, they bear callus upon callus, forged through hard and heavy work, leaving them as tough and unyielding as the timbers of a ship. The features of her face bear a similarity to that of her build. A broad nose, a wide forehead, dark eyes spaced perhaps a little too far apart to be considered a model for classical standards of feminine beauty. The lower half of her face is dominated by a set of full lips, most often parted in a open smile showing white pearlescent teeth. She wears her hair long, pushed back away from her face, but left to hang freely about her shoulders. The tightly coiled black hair is teased into numerous braids, adorned with beads and golden rings. Her ears are clearly visible when her hair is worn in this fashion, showing off a glimmering array of golden earrings, some simple hoops, others dangling large pedants of semi-precious stones or seashells. The captain dresses simply, loose linen shirts tucked into tight fitting dark breeches. She wears thigh high black leather boots of undeniable quality. From a shoulder slung sword belt a curved Redguard scimitar of plain and mean looking steel hangs along with a matching dagger. The adorned hilts contrasting with the gilded medallions and talismans they jingle alongside with. This are utilitarian weapons, tools for killing. In colder and wetter weather she has a long oil skin coat that she wraps about her person, along with a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun from her eyes and the rain from the face. ____________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y Fazahra is undoubted a woman who has endured much and led a tough life. One might expect evidence of this toughness, this hard and unyielding nature, to give her character a similar quality, that she would be some stern figurehead from some veteran warship, harshly carved from the boughs of a blackened oak. But the demeanour of Captain Fazahra could not be further from this image. Her face most often bears a smile so wide and open, it disarms those around her of the dangerous nature that hardened body forebodes. It is a friendly face. One that welcomes bosom buddies and heart companions to entrust their hopes and desire to her. Her husky voice has a singsong quality to it, and when she laughs they are full and hearty. Fazahra has a temper to her though, one that can whip up as quickly as a summer squall, though it is as apt to disappear just as fast as it emerged. She is not particularly violent by nature, even when wroth she is unlikely to reach for her sword unless threatened. And there is not much she feels threatened by. Overall the captain gives of an air of confidence and easy bravado. She seems self-assured of her abilities, and at ease in any company. This combination of self belief and friendliness makes her a very outgoing and extraverted individual. When at port and in taverns she draws in the people around her, making friends easily, attracting lovers easily. But like the seas she calls her home, many may swim in those warm and shallow waters without ever knowing the abyss that lies beneath them. A chasm of dark fathomless depths, in which one could easily drown. There is an ocean of hurt and pain inside of this woman, no matter how much sun shines on the surface. She rarely shows it when around others. Perhaps only when particularly deep in her cups might those mournful truths take hold and the perpetual smile she wears falters and fades. Her hand might creep to the pouch on the sword belt, the one that lies closest to her heart, close around the broken compass that resides there. Glass shattered, no direction left to give. Her greatest regret is the man that owned that compass once. The one who loved Fazahra more than anything, who would have done anything for her. The one she killed. Her goal? Happiness, Freedom, Escape. Escape from the past, the past of who she was, what she did, and what she had others do for her. Maybe out there, on the open sea, the wind at her back once more, she will be able to leave behind all of the pain and all of the guilt that has brought with her to Anvil. ____________________________________________________ H I S T O R Y Captain Fazahra is a talkative individual, she will freely converse on many different themes and topics. She tells many tall tales of the strange far off lands that she has seen, of the raucous nights spent in ports all over Tamriel, of ghost stories featuring phantom ships and dread sea monsters. If required she will even talk of more mundane things, of her craft as a sailor, of the fluctuating price of trade goods, even of the weather. But there is one thing she very, very rarely talks about directly. Who exactly she is, where she comes from, and what exactly she was doing before she came to Anvil.

Despite her silence on these matters, a discerning mind and well trained eye would be able to puzzle a good deal of her history out of her just by looking and listening, filling in the gaps with the odd well reasoned guess.

Firstly, Fazahra is a Redguard that much is clear by her dark skin. Her accent places her as a native of Hammerfell, and to a trained ear, south east Hammerfell with a enough Tamrielic creole mixed in to presume that she grew up in one of the large port cities that dot the coast along those bleak shores. Rihad or Taneth, Abah's Landing perhaps.

Secondly, Fazahra up poor, that's in her accent too, as well as the evidence of a lifetime of hard work on those callused hands of hers. The flashy displays of gold that she wears at her ears and belt speak to this as well, it is most often those who come into some deal of wealth later in life that have the greatest desire to flaunt it.

Third, though she claims to be a sailor and merchant, Fazahra is no stranger to violence. The scars on her arms, her self assurance around dangerous company, and the casual way she carries the blade at her hip makes this all to evidently clear.

Then there's what can be learned about Fazahra since she arrived in Anvil a month past as a passenger on merchant vessel. The first thing she did was sour the docks for a ship to purchase herself. She found one that satisfied her, although in need or some serious work, and set about repairing and provisioning the vessel herself. All of this was paid for upfront, in cold hard cash. Golden septims, not letters of credit or bankers drafts.

So, we have a woman who grew up poor, spent her life at sea and around violence, who suddenly finds herself with a significant deal of hard currency, and is purposefully obscure about what exactly she was doing before she arrived in her current port of call.

There is one explanation for these traits that fits much better than any other:

Fazahra is a pirate.

Or rather, Fazahra was a pirate. Anvil is not generally known as a safe harbour for the the buccaneers of the Abecean Sea, its a well maintained Imperial Port, not a haven of criminals like Port Hunding or Abah's Landing. A Pirate Captain, flush with gold in need of a new ship could certainly find somewhere much better to buy a raiding vessel and raise a crew of marauders.

Perhaps that explains the slight edge that the good Captain seems to have developed of late, the one that keeps her checking the shadows, and has her always sat in the taverns where she can keep one eye on the door. A pirate who broke faith with their compatriots, especially one who may have swindled more than their fair share of booty, would certainly have reason to keep looking over their shoulder.

But then again, it seems that everyone in Anvil is watching the shadows these days...

Microfiction & Poetry contest #10 - voting and feedback

I'll cast a vote for 10 steps. Thematic and clever, I liked it a lot.

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

Okay, I am finally done.

Definitely not a Pirate

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F A Z A H R A A L - H A M I N A

Art from TES: Legends ____________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R I N F O R M A T I O N Name - Captain Fazahra al-Hamina Gender - Female. Race - Redguard. Age - Late twenties to mid-thirties. Height - Taller than average, around 5'9". Profession - Sailor. Family Origins - Hammerfell, Abah's Landing Birth Sign - The Thief. ____________________________________________________ S K I L L S & A B I L I T I E S E X P E R T Blade Redguards are said to be the most naturally talented warriors in Tamriel, Fazahra is no exception to this. Shipboard life can be violent, put a blade in her hands and she will produce dead men for you. A D E P T Acrobatics A lifetime of climbing rigging and running over heaving decks has left Fazahra more nible than most, with an excellent sense of balance. Mercantile Commerce and trade is the lifeblood of most ships. Goods must be acquired and sold, ships provisioned, crews hired and paid. N O V I C E Athletics Hauling rope and canvas makes one develop certain muscles. Smithing Minor repair work on vessels is often undertaken by the crew, Fazahra has a working knowledge of cold metal working and carpentry. Unarmoured The greatest danger at sea is the sea itself, what sort of fool wears armour on a boat? ____________________________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T Weapons A curved steel sword and dagger, of traditional Yokundan design. Armour Nothing put some light cloth and leather boots. Miscellaneous Items A water skin. Unenchanted gold jewellery and medallions, carriable wealth. Several bottles of good Stros M'Kai Rum. Carpentry and miscellaneous tools. A suspiciously large bag of gold, well hidden. Rope, so much rope. One ship, in a ruinous state of repair. A broken compass, kept close to the heart. ____________________________________________________

A P P E A R A N C E Captain Fazahra al-Hamina is an imposing Redguard woman of larger than average height and build. Wide hipped and thick waisted, her figure looks stocky and strong. She has spent over half her life hauling rope and canvas or pulling at an oar, activities which have placed a significant amount of muscle on top of her already oversized frame. The dark skin of her muscled arms are lined with the pale scars of old injuries, some from the lash of an overtightened line snapping free, others from slash of a steel blade. Her hands are similarly marked, they bear callus upon callus, forged through hard and heavy work, leaving them as tough and unyielding as the timbers of a ship. The features of her face bear a similarity to that of her build. A broad nose, a wide forehead, dark eyes spaced perhaps a little too far apart to be considered a model for classical standards of feminine beauty. The lower half of her face is dominated by a set of full lips, most often parted in a open smile showing white pearlescent teeth. She wears her hair long, pushed back away from her face, but left to hang freely about her shoulders. The tightly coiled black hair is teased into numerous braids, adorned with beads and golden rings. Her ears are clearly visible when her hair is worn in this fashion, showing off a glimmering array of golden earrings, some simple hoops, others dangling large pedants of semi-precious stones or seashells. The captain dresses simply, loose linen shirts tucked into tight fitting dark breeches. She wears thigh high black leather boots of undeniable quality. From a shoulder slung sword belt a curved Redguard scimitar of plain and mean looking steel hangs along with a matching dagger. The adorned hilts contrasting with the gilded medallions and talismans they jingle alongside with. This are utilitarian weapons, tools for killing. In colder and wetter weather she has a long oil skin coat that she wraps about her person, along with a wide brimmed hat to keep the sun from her eyes and the rain from the face. ____________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y Fazahra is undoubted a woman who has endured much and led a tough life. One might expect evidence of this toughness, this hard and unyielding nature, to give her character a similar quality, that she would be some stern figurehead from some veteran warship, harshly carved from the boughs of a blackened oak. But the demeanour of Captain Fazahra could not be further from this image. Her face most often bears a smile so wide and open, it disarms those around her of the dangerous nature that hardened body forebodes. It is a friendly face. One that welcomes bosom buddies and heart companions to entrust their hopes and desire to her. Her husky voice has a singsong quality to it, and when she laughs they are full and hearty. Fazahra has a temper to her though, one that can whip up as quickly as a summer squall, though it is as apt to disappear just as fast as it emerged. She is not particularly violent by nature, even when wroth she is unlikely to reach for her sword unless threatened. And there is not much she feels threatened by. Overall the captain gives of an air of confidence and easy bravado. She seems self-assured of her abilities, and at ease in any company. This combination of self belief and friendliness makes her a very outgoing and extraverted individual. When at port and in taverns she draws in the people around her, making friends easily, attracting lovers easily. But like the seas she calls her home, many may swim in those warm and shallow waters without ever knowing the abyss that lies beneath them. A chasm of dark fathomless depths, in which one could easily drown. There is an ocean of hurt and pain inside of this woman, no matter how much sun shines on the surface. She rarely shows it when around others. Perhaps only when particularly deep in her cups might those mournful truths take hold and the perpetual smile she wears falters and fades. Her hand might creep to the pouch on the sword belt, the one that lies closest to her heart, close around the broken compass that resides there. Glass shattered, no direction left to give. Her greatest regret is the man that owned that compass once. The one who loved Fazahra more than anything, who would have done anything for her. The one she killed. Her goal? Happiness, Freedom, Escape. Escape from the past, the past of who she was, what she did, and what she had others do for her. Maybe out there, on the open sea, the wind at her back once more, she will be able to leave behind all of the pain and all of the guilt that has brought with her to Anvil. ____________________________________________________ H I S T O R Y Captain Fazahra is a talkative individual, she will freely converse on many different themes and topics. She tells many tall tales of the strange far off lands that she has seen, of the raucous nights spent in ports all over Tamriel, of ghost stories featuring phantom ships and dread sea monsters. If required she will even talk of more mundane things, of her craft as a sailor, of the fluctuating price of trade goods, even of the weather. But there is one thing she very, very rarely talks about directly. Who exactly she is, where she comes from, and what exactly she was doing before she came to Anvil.

Despite her silence on these matters, a discerning mind and well trained eye would be able to puzzle a good deal of her history out of her just by looking and listening, filling in the gaps with the odd well reasoned guess.

Firstly, Fazahra is a Redguard that much is clear by her dark skin. Her accent places her as a native of Hammerfell, and to a trained ear, south east Hammerfell with a enough Tamrielic creole mixed in to presume that she grew up in one of the large port cities that dot the coast along those bleak shores. Rihad or Taneth, Abah's Landing perhaps.

Secondly, Fazahra up poor, that's in her accent too, as well as the evidence of a lifetime of hard work on those callused hands of hers. The flashy displays of gold that she wears at her ears and belt speak to this as well, it is most often those who come into some deal of wealth later in life that have the greatest desire to flaunt it.

Third, though she claims to be a sailor and merchant, Fazahra is no stranger to violence. The scars on her arms, her self assurance around dangerous company, and the casual way she carries the blade at her hip makes this all to evidently clear.

Then there's what can be learned about Fazahra since she arrived in Anvil a month past as a passenger on merchant vessel. The first thing she did was sour the docks for a ship to purchase herself. She found one that satisfied her, although in need or some serious work, and set about repairing and provisioning the vessel herself. All of this was paid for upfront, in cold hard cash. Golden septims, not letters of credit or bankers drafts.

So, we have a woman who grew up poor, spent her life at sea and around violence, who suddenly finds herself with a significant deal of hard currency, and is purposefully obscure about what exactly she was doing before she arrived in her current port of call.

There is one explanation for these traits that fits much better than any other:

Fazahra is a pirate.

Or rather, Fazahra was a pirate. Anvil is not generally known as a safe harbour for the the buccaneers of the Abecean Sea, its a well maintained Imperial Port, not a haven of criminals like Port Hunding or Abah's Landing. A Pirate Captain, flush with gold in need of a new ship could certainly find somewhere much better to buy a raiding vessel and raise a crew of marauders.

Perhaps that explains the slight edge that the good Captain seems to have developed of late, the one that keeps her checking the shadows, and has her always sat in the taverns where she can keep one eye on the door. A pirate who broke faith with their compatriots, especially one who may have swindled more than their fair share of booty, would certainly have reason to keep looking over their shoulder.

But then again, it seems that everyone in Anvil is watching the shadows these days...

What Are You Listening To?

The Elder Scrolls: Endless Night

What is this I see? An TES RP, GMed by one of my favourite role players? I could be tempted, I could be tempted

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

Tentative interest, I love the concept, but not 100% sure I have the time

What Are You Listening To?

A Thousand Legends ~ Sundered Veil

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I S H I Y A R Y U T A R O

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The reception dinner was a restrained affair compared to the outpouring of general merriment that could be found outside. The delegation of Karitu's high nobility had booked out the upper floors of a well appointed inn overlooking the plaza that lead to the Ruby Palace. Important members from two dozen clans, including several Tochihai and the Seshkyo's own brother, rubbed shoulders with their Folk counterparts from the Imperial Capital.

The finest and oldest families of Karitu were all represented here, and representing the Ishiya, was the venerable clan's young heir apparent, Ryutaro. As he picked at his food and listened to the droning murmur of polite conversation, the slight youth's crimson eyes could not help but be drawn toward the open balcony doors, and the festival beyond them.

Outside there was a world of mirth and excitement, it was his first time in the capital unaccompanied, and he longed to explore it. But he was not here for his own longings and desires. He was here to reaffirm the bonds and alliances the Ishiya had with the nobility of Bianwei, and to offer tribute and submission to the Emperor. But that would come later, first, there would be plenty of 'mingling'.

He almost sighed at that, it was not one of his favourite activities.

While lost in his own thoughts there was a lull in the conversation. Ryutaro tore his eyes away from the fireworks in the night sky to the portly Folk nobleman seated to his right. Lord something of Domain such-and-such. He had been talking at such length about agricultural exports Ryu had almost forgotten that he had been included in this particular conversation. Did they expect him to say something? Had he been asked a question?

"My apologies, I did not quite catch what you were saying, my lord."

"As the designated heir of the Ishiya, surely you could put this mat-"

"Heir apparent, my lord." He quickly interrupted with an apologetic smile. "My grandfather is yet to formally designate his successor. But rest assured, no matter whom succeeds him, the Ishiya clan shall treasure the continued friendship of your family."

The portly lord harrumphed and stroked his beard before launching back into another long monologue about rice tariffs to anyone around him who would listen. Once he deemed he was safe from being drawn into another discussion, Ryu allowed his eyes to drift to the balcony once more.

"Are you watching the fireworks?"

The voice this time came from his left, on that side he had been seated next to a Honfokun girl of a similar age to him. He didn't know here particularly well, though he was reasonably sure that she was some cousin of the Nakamuras who lived in the capital. A decent match potentially, Ryu was sure he saw his grandfather's hand in this.

"Oh errm- yes, they are... very pretty." He tried not to stumble on his words, but they still came out awkwardly. He had to get a hold of himself. Now was not the time to make a fool of himself in front of all of Cimanu and Bianwei.

"I was watching them too." She smiled at him, he supposed she was pretty too. "Perhaps you could accompany onto the balcony? We could watch them together, before the Emperor makes his speech."

"...I would be delighted to."

He rose from the table in the graceful motion and extended one hand for her to do the same, before he lead her out onto the balcony.

He had found himself a date. With a girl. Great.