Solace

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

@HushedWhispers @NarcissisticPotato If it's no problem, can I move Lord/Lady Lear to the pavilion in my reply? I do want to jump ahead, a little bit.

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

To be fair, we just need a post from the Lord and/or Lady of Lear. One or the other, we just need to move on. Busy or not, collab or regular posts, we need a post of some capacity. It's been way too long and I want to get things moving before a longer period of inactivity happens.

If there isn't a post tomorrow, I'm going to have to move the story along, since one of our participants is very complacent about the wait. :(

@Ambra I am really interested in the Emissary part of the title? Is that spoilers to ask who the Emissary is? : p IF it is feel free to just write Spoilers or some such I like surprises.

@Hippocamp

I come up with the plots and titles of such. It's kind of a metaphor, but for what, is a mystery. :o

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Rufus Santer

Rufus' admirable smirk defused to one of a weary smile as Jaelyn began to behead him for his scandalous activities within the brothel. The squire had always found no trouble in indulging himself within an ounce of fun, every now and then, especially if it was within the royal capital where the women were desirable. Though, personally, he still preferred the ones from the South, if he had a choice.

"I've no time to myself these days, my lady! Certainly, in your noble heart, must you find the kindness to allow a squire his off-time!" Rufus spoke in an eloquent tone of voice, mirroring the manner of speech prevalent among the highest of nobles. It was an accent that he actually detested for its almost-condescending sound, but one that he had no difficulty rendering.

While Jaelyn kept her sullen expression, the corners of Rufus' lips curled upwards into a wide smile, laughing. "I must apologize to Lady Ralei when we return to the tourney. For a lady of your stature to be seen in this... unlucky location, it reeks of dishonor."

Rufus, like his relationship with the other two siblings, found him a close friend and confidante to Jaelyn, as the page-turned squire had become more of such than a young boy tasked with cleaning their rooms and pouring the wine of House Ralei. Many squires dreamed of knighthood and taking the vows of chivalry to wear like their armor, but Rufus had already accomplished his own dream; the company of friends was all the young man needed.

@Ambra

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Archer Rathmore

Even in his sickness, Archer Rathmore was a restless boy, and longed to see the tales of past tournaments come to life. The nine-year old boy had ventured from the confines of his bedroom in the Windkeep, against his mother's urges to remain in bed. He had grown bored, and the sight from his window was incomparable to actually being there.

Along the streets of the Higher Cities, it was a bit of a bizarre sight to see a member of the Kingsguard wheeling Archer along in a wagon, searching for the tournament grounds. "My lord, hasn't your father ordered-"

"Well, I'm ordering you to take me to my father!" Archer interrupted the knight abruptly in a childish manner, causing the man to sigh and continue with the little lord's command.

His light brown eyes circulated as they stopped at the statue of the Andals, scanning the area of the Houses for his father. When he spotted his father, Archer tapped the knight's gauntlet erratically, pointing towards the pavilion.

Weaving through the crowds of spectators and participants alike, Archer was taken from the wagon and carried into the arms of the Kingsguard, who walked through the tables of each respective House. Stopping near the steps leading to the upper seat where the King sat, the boy waved. "Father!" he called out, catching Soren's attention as a surprised look came about the old man's features.

"Archer?" Soren tilted his head, motioning the boy to come forward. Archer told the Kingsguard to let him down, and when he did, the boy took a few steps up before he fell forward. Another Kingsguard caught the little lord, and helped the boy up to his father.

"Your mother told you to stay in your room," Soren reminded Archer as the boy excitedly placed his hands against his father's lap.

Archer frowned, coughing. "I couldn't miss the tournament of the three regions, father," he explained.

Soren sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before re-opening them to smile down at his son. He affectionately ran a hand along Archer's cheek, tapping his shoulder and pointing to Elizabeth. "Go sit with your mum," he told the boy.

@HushedWhispers @Hippocamp (whoever is at a table at the tournament area like House Ralei)

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Sigurd Lear

Smiling at his sister's response, Sigurd found it difficult to hold to the positive expression for too long. "Of course," he did not look to Ser Wyeth Mallory as the knight went off to the tournament before they would go themselves. The young man took a deep breath as he awaited for his father and mother to finish their business, standing off to the side and observing the Windkeep with admiration.

@RainDash @HushedWhispers @Ellion

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Soren's biography is long. Very long. But not only is he the King, but he is also an oldie; sixty-eight years of age ain't gonna be summarized in three paragraphs. So I split it off into three parts of varying sizes. If you're interested in lore regarding the history of the King, as well as what's going on in the Eastern Region, you can read it if you like. Otherwise, I won't smite you for not doing so. :D

Important things to basically pick up in TL;DR
- Soren has close ties to the North (as a kid, sent to the North under Darion Lear's watch)
- Father (Validus Rathmore, previous king) was pretty insane and an evil ruler
- Ended up overthrowing his father at age of fifteen, three months before he would come of eligibility to rule
- Eastern Region has spooky scary skeletons, zomzoms, wendigos, and white walkers

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Information

Height: 6'1

Hair Color: Black (young), Gray (current)

Eye Color: Brown (right eye), Colorless (left eye)

Complexion: Light

Body Composition: Slightly plump

Scars: Serrated cut from mid-forehead just above the left eye, running down to mid-cheek

Name:

Soren Rathmore

Age:

Sixty-eight years of age.

Titles:

King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Three Regions, Protector of the Realm, Lord of the Windkeep, and Lord Paramount of the West.

Formal address is Soren of the House Rathmore, the first of His name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Three Regions and Protector of the Realm.

Origin:

The Windkeep

Allegiance:

House Rathmore

Family

Validus Rathmore - Father (Deceased)

Lumara Rathmore - Mother (Deceased)

Armin Rathmore - Brother (Younger) (Deceased)

Elizabeth Rathmore - Wife

Soren Rathmore II - Son (Oldest) (Deceased)

Feye Rathmore - Daughter (Deceased)

Archer Rathmore - Son (Youngest)

Alexander Rathmore - Cousin

Personality:

Many stipulate that Soren Rathmore's stout and resilient nature pays homage to his time spent amongst the Northmen in his youth. As one of the few people who lived during the final years of the Eastern Kingdom's existence, his eyes seemingly have a haunted affinity beyond the scar on his face; slightly troubled from those past experiences, he is very reserved and against sharing stories from the times of the fallen kingdom.

In front of this, Soren is by all means a charming and charismatic individual, having always boasted wisdom beyond his years when he was a younger man. He has ruled Estiala just and well, opposite of his father's more treacherous term; he cares for each and every subject he has ever had, and cherishes what remaining family he has left. Soren is duly protective of his last son, Archer, and has fallen upon sadder days with Archer's sickness.

Background:

Childhood

Hidden underneath all of the grief and trepidation that Soren Rathmore has seen and experienced all throughout his sixty-eight years of living, the proud son of Validus and Lumara Rathmore stood at the pedestal of Estiala when the royal crown had produced a strong and healthy heir. Growing up, Soren was spoiled immensely for his status as the heir to the crown when it would come to be his time to rule, and so, he was properly groomed in the ways of House Rathmore.

However, the happy picture was nothing short of temporary. King Validus, who had ruled Estiala for a decade until Soren's birth, had become consumed within the greed that developed with inheriting the seat of the king. Soon, Validus grew to detest his two sons, as their existences were a daily reminder that Validus' rule would someday come to an end, and so, his power would be lost. The king abused his sons in secrecy, and when the council would question the status of the two boys, Validus would send the young Soren and Armin to the colder winds of the North.

Darion Lear, Lord of Penkarth and Lord Paramount of the North, was more than welcomed to receive the sons of House Rathmore. Initially, Soren felt trapped within the foreign borders, and the eight-year old feared the Northmen as much as he feared his father. Though, he found himself absorbed into the culture of the cold region, and while he prodded himself to remain true to the traditions of the Andals, Soren could not help but see the wrongs that King Validus exerted upon their own culture.

For five years, Soren and Armin floated between their birthright in the West and the home of their hearts in the North to visit their mother, finding ounces of a stronger character as they colloquially spent their time among the Northmen. At thirteen, the brothers were ordered to be returned to the possession of House Rathmore, as Queen Lumara had passed away in her sleep.

Young Years

But, Soren resisted his father's abuse, and while King Validus sneered at the boys for betraying the West through their favor of the Northern culture, the King truly had none to blame but himself. Without his wife at his side, King Validus began to grow in madness, his power-hungriness in continual starvation. When Soren turned the age of fifteen, the Master of Whispers revealed to the Rathmore brothers that King Validus had murdered Queen Lumara in her disagreement with his methods of rule.

The West was on the brink of economical collapse as sudden pleas from the Eastern Kingdom went ignored by King Validus. Their relations to the North and South deteriorated as the King looked upon his subjects with a tyrannical ideology. As Soren was nearing the age of sixteen, he was poised to come of age, as it was when he would become suitable for the crown. But, the boy's vengeance for the life of thousands, including his mother, flared uncontrollably.

Three months before his sixteenth name day, Soren Rathmore organized a coup d'état to overthrow his father from furthering the madness that was his rule. With support from the North and the council formerly loyal to Validus, they ousted the madman from his rule in the eye of the general public and denounced his titles. With no hesitation, Validus began to slander the name of House Rathmore, claiming that Soren was no claimant to the throne. Through this, the boy denied his father's allegations, and Soren Rathmore declared himself the new King of Estiala, his first royal decree to sentence his father to death for treason against the realm.

Through this, few considered Soren Rathmore a kinslayer, but in the eyes of the rest, considered him one of heroic qualities. With the royal council working closely under the new patriarch, Soren Rathmore spent the next two years attempting to revitalize the West's destroyed economy. When he finished mending relations with the Southern region, he turned his eyes to the Eastern Kingdom, of whom no word had come from its borders since his father's rule.

Growing worried, King Soren looked upon the Eastern Kingdom's last message, which had been a distress call. He organized an army and led a march to the eastern borders himself, but when they reached the other side of the mountains, no signs of civilization remained. Only a few miles into the east, skeletons both human and wildlife were found, and the castle of an Eastern house, Ogland's Summit, was abandoned. When Soren thought that invaders had come and sacked the Eastern Kingdoms, he was only-half correct; at Ogland's Summit, they were attacked.

But not by humans. Creatures of varying sizes, grotesque corpses reanimated from the rot, things from the tales of horror passed by the campfire. Soren ordered the retreat of his small army, but by the time they were out of the eastern borders, two-thirds of the small army had been eviscerated by the monsters. From that day, Soren ordered the construction of a wall that would span against the borders of the three regions, blocking off every Eastern waypoint.

Current

In the next four to five decades, Soren Rathmore continued to rule the nation where his father failed greatly. He loved his wife with all his heart, even in the discrepancies of their ages; he was a young romantic at heart, regardless. His attempts to father an heir failed when his first son, named after him, came ill and passed away at the age of three. No sooner, his next daughter, Feye, passed away at four years of age from a similar illness.

It was at this time, Soren Rathmore believed that he had been cursed for ordering the execution of his father, and that he had truly been a kinslayer. Though, this was temporarily disproved when his next son, Archer Rathmore, was born healthy and strong. They were happy for the years of his only son's good fortune, but fate was cruel, and intent on claiming another.

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

I'll post now since the site is back to normal.

EDIT: Sorry, it's taking awhile. I'm actually also making character sheets for Soren Rathmore.

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Wait is it at all possible for me to finish my second char? I'm sorry, I've been super busy all day. I'll get her done tonight. I promise.

@RomanAria

Oh, of course it's fine. We meant new characters for new applicants! Go right ahead! :o

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Okay, scratch the reply. I'll do that tomorrow.

Ambra and I finished looking at the new characters. It'll go up soon. (Actually, it's above. I got ninja posted darn)

With these final characters, we're officially closing off the roleplay from new applicants until some blood is shed.

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Woo. Much needed weekend + Memorial Day off.

I'll reply and look at stuff sometime tonight.

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Sigurd Lear

The young man was astonished by how much the Windkeep had changed since his last visitation. Sigurd Lear, like his family, seldom left their home in the North, and so when House Lear accepted an invitation to an event of sorts that was outside of their natural boundaries, it was taken seriously by the other regions. He had been thirteen years of age when he rode for the Windkeep with his own convoy, a longtime tradition in a Lear boy's path in coming of age.

His horse whined as it scuttled alongside his father, at the head of their party. Sigurd kept to himself, casting a sideways glance as they rode into the capital of Estiala. As with the Southern major house, they were met with the adoration of the Western natives, who had filed themselves in long pockets of population to lay eyes upon House Lear.

He was relatively undisturbed by the length of their trip, to which Joane and Isla seemed to dislike very much greatly. As Northmen and the paragons of their region, it was in their blood to remain robust and stout; at least, for Sigurd, that was how the young man had to present himself, as his father stressed. There would be no qualms for complaining when the winds of winter would come.

Sigurd set his shoulders straight, his eyes remaining to the side. "The King cordially invited us to attend his festival, he reminded Joane as she addressed their father. "A gathering of the three regions has not occurred for over fifty years. It is the greatest honor for the Northmen."

When the faces of the common folk were replaced by ones of familiarity, more or less, House Lear and its bannermen found themselves at the Windkeep in its palatial greatness. Attended by the servants and squires of House Rathmore, they were relieved of their horses, advising Ulfar Lear and the Northern lords to make haste for the tournament grounds where King Soren Rathmore awaited their arrival.

While Isla and Joane sat themselves at a bench to recuperate themselves from the fortnight of travel, Sigurd kept to his father's side, his face almost one of sadness. As much as the festival of the three regions was meant to be a week of refreshment and celebration, the boy knew of the capital's despair.

The only heir to the King, Archer Rathmore, had been the first of the crown's three children to survive a series of deadly illness, and now at the age of nine, Archer Rathmore was on the brink of suffering from his siblings' same fate. It made Sigurd think, of how many years in his youth had been claimed by the pox, but for the King of such old age to have no true heirs, no true son or daughter to hold?

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Rufus Santer

As a young man of self-proclaimed above-average intelligence, Rufus sighed once in relief as he had finally triumphed over the she-devils of the brothel in their desire to keep him within their establishment, in their company. He found himself tumbling along the stairwell, clumsily ensuring that his sword would not fall from his hip and lead the squire to a tale for the crown's jester.

When Rufus stumbled out of the scandalous establishment, he was quick to close the door behind him as he threw a hand down the top of his head, keeping his shaggy brown hair from ruffling any further. One of the whores gestured from the window above while he scratched his backside, letting out a stretch for the glory of the gods.

In the midst of his yawn, Rufus found an older man showing a respectful gesture towards the wall, seeing as it was towards Jaelyn Ralei. "Oh," the squire looked between the two of them, trotting towards his princess. He proceeded to scratch the side of his face, smiling. "Lady Lyn, may I ask why you are not with Lord Ralei?"

Kingless Symphony: Emissary of Ascension

Information

Height: 5'9

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Alice blue

Complexion: Light

Body Composition: Muscular

Scars: None

Name:

Sigurd Lear

Age:

Eighteen-years of age.

Titles:

Heir Apparent

Origin:

Myrr Keep, the North

Allegiance:

House Lear

Family

Darion Lear - Grandfather (Deceased)
Illysa Lear - Grandmother (Deceased)
Ulfar Lear - Father
Emmaline Lear - Mother
Taron Lear - Uncle
Ildar Lear - Uncle
Isla Lear - Sister
Joane Lear - Sister

Personality:

An unwavering soul as stagnant as the snowy lands of the North, Sigurd dons the quiet strength within the words of House Lear. Unlike his siblings, the young man is a shy away from other people, preferring moments of solitude or among his family over the trivial matters of Estiala. He holds strict adherence to the laws of the Northmen, as his father did and his ancestors before him.

Sincere, genuine, and just, these qualities often betray Sigurd's stark and serious tendencies. The pressure of his birthright to, one day, inherit Penkarth and lead House Lear into the future does not bother the young man, as the sole son had been brought up and prepared for his whole life. To become the paragon of the North is his duty, and to tease his sisters, his family to protect.

Background:

As a young child, Sigurd Lear often pondered upon the lives of the common folk in the West and the South, and how they were treated differently based on their wealth, compared to the North. He was a very attentive boy, often listening to the many illustrious stories that the crows of House Lear would tell him about the fallen Eastern Kingdom. In addition, he was a frail and weak child, once causing an overnight uproar within Penkarth when it was discovered that the only son of Ulfar Lear, only seven years old, was afflicted with the pox.

Fortunately, the gods heard the many prayers of the family and bannerman, and Sigurd survived. His weakened state remained for several years afterwards, and throughout this time, even his sisters could best him in a spar with swords. Instead, he stuck to the confide of books, becoming very studious at the young age under his mother's care.

On Sigurd's ninth birthday, the damage to his body had dissipated, and the boy found the ability to walk normally without the support of his family members. To this day, the young man believes this to be the only time where he witnessed his father shed tears. Sigurd immediately began the process of grooming himself to become the Lord of Penkarth, and armed with a developing sword hand as well as a mind of erudite intellect, a bright future was prophesied for him.

These days, Sigurd remains very well intrigued with the lost chapters of the world. The years were kind, as the boy had become strong in body and soul; with his capabilities tempered and his relationship to his family unmatched, Sigurd is all but the leader that the North will come to receive.