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 Action / Adventure  Fantasy Danger over Threncia (alrightyaphrodite & Epicurean)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Epicurean, Mar 16, 2019.

  1. Epicurean

    Epicurean Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    352
    Local Time:
    12:07 PM
    “Lord!” a voice called.

    Thoric groaned. “Fuck you! Get me more water and fuck off!” Eldrin could be such a pain in the ass.

    “Lord, I’m sorry, but…” the voice persisted.

    “Did you forget how to fuck yourself? Help yourself to a goat, and I hope your prick falls right off!” Thodic shouted. His own loud voice made his head ache even more. That, in turn, made him more angry – but he would have to be much, much angrier still to want to rise. He opened an eye. The sunlight falling through the cracks of the shutter pierced his head like arrows. He had never closed his eyes again so quickly. He moaned.

    “Lord, there’s a horn sound from the Hallowpass. They’ve been blowing all morning,” Eldrin said quickly so Thodic couldn’t cut him off.

    “It’s the Spring Feast, you motherless fool!” Thodic groaned. “Can’t you sheep-heads think for yourself just once? Probably some lunatic from over there smoked a whole barrel of spirit-herb and is farting into a horn up there. Wake me when it’s dark. Get me water and fuck off!

    He rolled over onto his sore stomach. He must have regurgitated half the ox they had slaughtered to celebrate. He had been an idiot to drink and eat so much. Thodic knew he deserved this, but his servants could at least have been nice enough to not fucking wake him for no good reason.


    “Thodic, it’s not a joke!” he heard next, the voice a different one, a low growl. This time, he awoke fully. Bearne was no servant, he was his oldest warrior. From Thodic and his mother before, he had received more silver arm rings than he knew what to do with.

    “Are they still blowing?” Thodic asked resignedly, knowing the answer. He must have fallen asleep again – but at least, Eldrin had brought a large jug of water. Thodic sat up shakily and drank most of it in large gulps. “Come in. Don’t have to talk so loud that way,” he grumbled at the door. Bearne complied. He was just as tall as Thodic himself. He stooped slightly and he wasn’t all that quick anymore, but his gray hair and beard didn’t stop him from being useful – not even on a battlefield. Bearne just knew what to do.

    “Do you know the signal? Can’t be an alarm?” Thodic asked as he fumbled for something to wear beside his tunic.

    The old warrior shook his head. “No. Why would they try to alert us? They know we don’t care if they all get led off to the South by raiders.” Bearne frowned. “I think I’ve heard it before. Long blasts…. just… it was really long ago, I was still a boy,” he explained, sounding embarrassed.

    Thodic finally found some braies and hose and started putting them on. “I suppose you can’t know everything,” he grumbled. “There’s Terlin – she’s way older than you, maybe she remembers. Can you go ask her while I fix myself?” Thodic asked, his tone as friendly as he could manage. Maybe he had drunk too much mead at the Spring Feast, but he was not dumb enough to risk Bearne’s friendship by being haughty with him.

    “Sure. Don’t puke on your shoes,” Bearne said drily as he left the lord’s chamber. Thodic was too busy following his advice to be angry about it.

    *

    A while later, Thodic stood with some warriors before the hall, staring up at where the Hallowpass was. He could bear the sunlight now, drinking and washing with cold water and a hearty breakfast helped; the horn blasts stopped sometimes, but they always came back. It wasn’t a normal horn, either – it was a Spirithorn, as long as long spear. Only people with strong breath could make it sound. It was clearly the Mâno, the gutless bastards. They held the next valley over and Thodic kept away from them as his mother had always done. If the whole tribe came together for war or council, he just ignored the Mâno lord (a lady at the moment, if he remembered correctly). It was better that way. They had killed his great-grandfather after all, he had no interest to meet the same fate at their cunning hands.

    Bearne came back into the courtyard with a curious expression. “Sorry it took so long, lord. You know Terlin, she’s getting strange. Wanted to talk to me about chicken, if you can believe it, and her daughter wouldn’t let me slap her to make her pay attention,” the old warrior said, deadpan. The warriors chuckled; everyone knew roughing up old people wasn’t something Bearne would stoop to, and certainly not his own lord’s peasants. “She remembered in the end, though. These long blasts – they mean the Mâno lady wants to talk to you. Up at the Hallows, mind, both parties are safe. Terlin said your mother went up there with that signal once when the Mâno had horses to sell ages ago. I didn’t remember that, but I think it happened. So I suppose you should go up there – which means I get to haul my old bones to the Hallows as well,” Bearne added with a mock rueful smile. Climbing up the pass was no easy exercise for anyone, but he could still do it almost as well as the younger warriors. The day he stops making light of his age, I’ll know he’s approaching his dotage, Thodic thought.

    “Well then. Get a mule and put food on it, firewood and a tent. It’s still cold as a wizard’s cock up there, I figure,” Thodic ordered nobody in particular. “I want Bearne and two others with me. Warm bodies to huddle together with, hear me? Bring your armor and weapons. More for show. Not even those goat-humpers would start a fight up there. The Fordaro would curse their lady so hard her tits would fall right to her knees or something.” That much was obvious, but the warriors still grinned. The ancestors did not look kindly on any violation of their holy place. Funny, Thodic thought as he, Bearne and his two warriors Isela and Manric (whom Isela rode each night) passed the village palisade – we share the same ancestors, but we hate each other. As they reached the path up to the pass, he realized he was very, very curious why the Mâno lady wanted to talk to him. Well, he would probably know before sundown. He tugged at his helmet and sword-belt to make them more comfortable and started walking up the path...

    @alrightyaphrodite
     
  2. alrightyaphrodite

    alrightyaphrodite a golden cage is still a cage... Member

    Messages:
    7
    Local Time:
    3:07 AM
    “Unless they wished to castrated and fucked by the undead, I’m sure we can negotiate something’ Mother,” growled Beatrisia, as she sat beside the altar to the Fordaro with her Mother just behind her by the small fire along with her personal guard Godiva. Who was a middle age warrior, with more muscle than the most seasoned of their female warriors. “Well...one can’t be too cautious with these coxcomb bastards. They slaughtered your great grandmother with their brutish hands and skinned her afterward, you never know,” her aging mother noted, just like Beatrisia, former Lord Beatrix shared similar fox like qualities. From their small pointed faces, always smirking lips and upturned eyes. Beatrisia looked away from her with an eye roll and grimace, she didn’t believe her Mother because Mâno women were clever and brutal, she can’t see any ancestor of hers being strangled and skinned. As silly as her Mother’s suspicions were, she could not ignore the overwhelming unease from her tribe and deep the hatred ran. Still this was bigger than them, and she would die before she allowed some necrophilic (a word she’d never say in front of her mother) King ravage her home. The Fordaro would see to it if she failed.

    **

    The Mâno had arrived at dawn, sure to get there before anyone had risen in the village. However it had been hours since their arrival and she half wondered if they were too cautious. Beatrisia could hear the groaning of her men as they prepared a late meal, the sun was low and they were growing impatient. Still she sat motionless with her her hands on her knees as she sat cross legged. The Lord held in a sneeze, the cold was brutal, even with the fur pelt around her shoulders and the layers to her linen and tunic style dress. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, and her clothing felt too tight around her breasts and hips. She held her bow on her shoulder and her sword against behind her As Beatrisia blew into the horn for the hundredth fucking time.


    The damn message that brought them here had come from their envoy Alaric, her cousin, or as her Mother fondly called him the bastard of the royal family. He often made long visits to the castle, their relationship as a tribe to the King and Queen was not deep, in fact Beatrisia knew he only went up there to fuck one of the Kong’s whores, a handmaiden. Luckily they’re so loose lipped, and Alaric learned of the Necromancer King that was raising the undead. Magic was not unheard in the Mâno clan, as they had a few with such power, but her Mother called it corrupted and foul. It made no difference to Beatrisia, for her it was simple, her duty was to her tribe and her tribe only. So, they prayed to the Faldorano and “unity” was what was relayed to her. Strategically it made sense, to the group of elders when she brought it up to her council, even though many were just adamant that the Lord must have misheard. “I swear it on our tribe,” Beatrisia began with a deep anger in her voice,” I am repulsed by the the idea of associating with such vulgar people but we are all Ahogan in the end. If it saves our asses, I see it only as a minor inconvenience. The whore King did not alert us, it was our bastard Alaric that did. He wants us dead, he does not give an arse about us, we’re just delaying the threat. I will not be raped by these invaders, I won’t let them do that to the Mâno.” The solution? She did not know, she hoped to negotiate or fear of death being enough to make them agree to the alliance.


    Beatrisia by the time sun had set, her legs had gone numb, and she began to smack them to get the feeling back bristling with rage. It subsided somewhat when she heard the footsteps of many approaching and nearly fell over when that bitch Godiva sounded the horn again,” Oh put an end to it! They’re coming, everyone be ready and stay put. If you have a problem, you escort your sorry asses back home. Mother sit behind me, so they can see you.” Beatrix cursed and made somewhat of a fox but did as her daughter said.


    “Is it the Thodic way to walk like old goats?,” Beatrisia demanded out loud waiting for them to come into view. She didn’t know much about the Thodic-Ahogan tribe nor did she care to, just that the Lord was called Thordic and certain he’d be some older hairy and wide chested brute, who stuck of blood and shit. At least that’s the impression her Mother and the elders had given her whole life.
     
  3. Epicurean

    Epicurean Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    352
    Local Time:
    12:07 PM
    They could be seen from afar, the Mâno at the Fordaro’s Hallows. “They could have come down to us,” groused Isela. She was strong and had the quickest feet Thoric knew, but she always tired quickly. Yet, Thodic wanted her with him. She missed nothing and she could talk – unlike Manric, but Thodic wasn’t mean enough to deprive Isela of her lover even for a day. And Manric was a good warrior in his own right, even if he sometimes appeared to be stupid. His mind was like a door that sometimes wouldn’t open right, but he was a tough man, seemingly impervious to pain, and apparently very good at humping. That alone made him a friend of the Fordaro, Thodic knew, and you could never have enough of those.

    “Would you have gone down to their place from here?” Thodic replied, catching his breath. Isela gave back a low grumble. He looked up to the Mâno. Now, he could tell them apart. There was an older woman at the back – Thodic knew her from the great council a few years before. A proper lord, sitting upright, sword at her side. But she had clearly ceded leadership to her daughter, sitting before her. Her Thodic had never seen, she hadn’t attended the council for some reason.

    The warriors stepped out from between the rocks at Thodic’s gesture. Bearne replied to the mild taunt by the Mâno leader. “It’s easy to talk about other folk’s walking when you’ve been sitting all day.” Bearne had a knack for saying things that sounded wise, Thodic thought. Maybe he was becoming wise. “This is Thodic, son of Thodissa, daughter of Thodic, son of Thodic – and onwards like this until the days when spirits walked the earth,” he declared with a gesture to his lord. Thodic took pride in his appearance, he knew he looked like an Ahogan mountain lord should. Tall and straight-backed, his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulder, with long, muscular limbs, he was in his early prime, two dozen years old maybe (Thodic had lost count after his mother had died, but he thought it was four-and-twenty). Thodic had learned early that warriors were inclined to follow him; Bearne said it was because of his blue eyes and his warm voice, but Thodic suspected his noble ancestry played a role. Long, long ago, a Thodissa was said to have led the Ahogan as war-leader a few times, when the Volish had tried to get to the North through the Ahogan mountains. Tried.

    “I greet you, Mâno lord,” Thodic said, loudly and freely like a warrior lord ought. “Give me your name! I don’t want anyone to be able to claim that the Thodic have no respect.”
     
  4. alrightyaphrodite

    alrightyaphrodite a golden cage is still a cage... Member

    Messages:
    7
    Local Time:
    3:07 AM
    There was a reason Beatrisia did not go to any meeting held by the collective Ahogan council. Before her Mother had named her Lord, she was often with her cousin Alaric and their guard. Outings to scope the lands, to master the magic she possessed, and visit smaller tribes of cherished alliances. Most importantly, her Mother liked to think of Beatrisia as a wild card, her succession would be quiet and had promised her late Father Engel that Beatrisia would be nurtured properly. Formed into a leader that trusted and knew herself. Where as the new Lord was not as respected as her Mother in the council (other rather the Mâno Ahogan faction of it), she was popular with her people and was often among them. The way her Mother and Father explained it to her was, I don’t want you influenced or tarnished by the others first love our people and then learn to master the council. In other words, she was groomed to be loyal to the Mâno and the Ahogan majority second. A defiant new Lord.

    “Oh, I’m afraid any thoughts on count of you being’ disrespectful are based on other Thordic ways. Lord Thodic, we wouldn’t be sittin’ so long if you had not taken so long. If I was aware you were as deaf as you are dumb, I would’ve sent an envoy,” it was a petty jab, but Beatrisia was certain anymore would make them turn away,” Still we don’t come here to quarrel. You ask my name, I am Lord Beatrisia daughter of Beatrix, proud leader of the Mâno.” Godiva watched for Beatrisia’s reaction to the Lord, much like Beatrix, who was already calculating a way of forging a long lasting alliance. Their lord did not seem stirred at least they could not tell. Beatrix adjusted her fur pelt and commanded as she pegged Beatrix in the behind to make her sit straighter,” Sit now Lord Thordic and companions, we have much to discuss and we fiddle any longer I’m sure the Fordaro would be royally pissed. So end of formalities, let’s talk why about why all our sorry asses are up here in the first place.”

    Beatrisia was not expecting a man of her age to show, and to her disappointment he did not stink of either blood or shit. He looked proper, ruggishly handsome even. Thordic’s blue eyes reminded her of the sapphire her Father used to wear and it made her nostalgic. Still, she couldn’t be too relieved because it appeared that this may be somewhat of an unhappy union. Just like Thordic, Beatrisia appeared as both a proper lord and lady. Much like her mother she had a unique beauty, that was not overwhelming but attractive. Fox like, Beatrisia had long reddish brown hair that was loose around her shoulders. It was plentiful and looked silky in the fading sunlight. Her eyes were a golden light brown just as warm as the tone of her skin. Beatrisia was not as fair toned as her Mother, it was a inherited trait from her Father Engel who always stood out for it. She moved the pelt to her lap, revealing her fit figure, there was no evident muscle and was relatively thin with the exception of her hourglass figure. Which at age twenty, she was still growing into.

    Godiva offered the soup they had brought from home to the Hallows, that had been warmed over the fire before they arrived. As Godiva prepared bowls, she also brought out one of their finest pelts as an offering that smelled faintly of apples that was to be given after the meeting. Beatrisia cleared her throat,” My envoy and cousin Alaric came home frantic yesterday. He had been visiting the Castle again, being blood to the whore King, he had learned from one of his women along with other gossip in the town, that Threncia is being raided. But not by any army, but that of King Kári a necromancer from an opposing kingdom. Alaric informed me that King had no intention of warning us, in order to see what damaged the undead army could do, he liked to see us fucked by them. The lowly bastard wants us dead, always has I imagine, but they’re coming regardless.” Beatrisia was silent for a moment before speaking again,”We want to form an alliance, so we are prepared when they come. I’m open to negotiate your terms. If your people mean anything to you, I’m sure you’ll cooperate.” The Lord’s eyes burned passionately with anger and determination, it was clear she meant to remain until they settled and agreed.

    “I will not take no for an answer.”
     
  5. Epicurean

    Epicurean Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    352
    Local Time:
    12:07 PM
    Thodic was surprised to find a weakling in charge of the neighboring group. She looked like city-dweller, little obvious strength, thin arms and legs that spoke more of sitting around than going out and defending the clan. He listened to Beatrisia’s words. Her aggressive tone sounded made, a little unreal to him, as if she didn’t speak like that a lot (although it amused him she’d call the King a whore). What in the name of all ancestors was going on in the next valley over? Her last statement, finally, almost elicited a chuckled from him. Not take no for an answer. He was tempted to tell her to come back when she looked like she could lift a shield, but this was a holy place, where more restraint was required.

    His mother and his older warriors had taught Thodic to look past the bluster, to find the core of what was being said and to spell it out for himself. A necromancer is coming; we must work together. Still, he could not ignore the way this one spoke to him. “Kári, a raiser of the dead,” he repeated, “and no help from the King.” Thodic frowned and spat to the side. “Sounds like him, and I’ve heard they dishonor the dead in the farther South. Not even the Volish, but folk from further off,” he said, then paused.

    “I don’t hear you though, Mâno,” he finally continued, looking at Beatrisia, a little distracted by her flow of light bronze hair. “So your… Alaric heard this from some whore?” Thodic shook his head. “You can’t be cross with me for not taking some whore’s word, then that of a man I do not know, and finally yours, Beatrisia.” Thodic thought this whole summons was some sort of maneuver, some treacherous way to weaken him, even if he didn’t know how such a plan might look. He was, however, wary, and not exactly warmed up to the Mâno delegation by the way their lady had already questioned his character.
     

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