The following Roleplays are written by a bunch of new players to the Game. I love these guys and as you can soon see, they'll be fine additions to the game. Happy to have them join us! All credits go to them of course for writing these pieces.
The first few are illustrations, build up. Then they arrive at the Golden Feast.
Roleplay from William Fitz Roberts
Sir William stood at the prow of the ship as it sailed towards Giask. He had heard tales of its magnificence and from this distance it did not disappoint. Time would tell as to whether this remained the case. He glanced down at the invitation he had received the day before,astonished that his superiors had taken such interest in lesser nobility of the realm. Nevertheless he was looking forward to it greatly. However, first he had buisness to attend to. The White Shields were nowhere near the condition he would feel comfortable presenting to his Marshall when he returned to the mustering point; they were under manned and under trained. His own sword skill was not up to scratch either. He was hoping to rectify these flaws during his stay in the city. He toyed with the scarlet fox badge on his chest for a moment, before turning back to join his men.
Roleplay from Matthew Coffey
​Perhaps it was fortunate that Matthew had been performing his speeches at Giask when the messenger arrived. Immediately he knew the crest of House Renodin, having been from a local family in Poryatu, recognising such heraldry would have been taught during his upbringing. A necessary skill. It dawned on him just how much he had been anticipating meeting the nobility of the realm in person, the real ​nobility of consequence, but the true weight of the situation had only hit him as the emissary peered down from their horse, awaiting the pale pink faced youth to take the letter. Indeed, the letter itself told of a grandeur and richness that his family would never have seen, only being minor landed nobles themselves. Forgetting himself for a moment, Matthew took an inappropriately long time regarding the wealth displayed on a mere missive, before addressing the messenger as he would if Aldrakar had been there in person. Once dismissed, Matthew did not hesitate to return to his room to open the letter in private.
​Having returned to his lodging, a fairly modest room within one of the many fine inns scattered about the city of Giask, Matthew scanned the words at great length, as if trying to glean some sort of greater meaning from it besides the literal orders presented. Firstly, he made a quick note to remind his newly hired captain Wolfram the next day that the troops need be informed of their new position within the "Emperor's Will". This was of less interest to Matthew, as he had already known of the military implications of his pledge to the empire. He was looking forward to leading his troops into the fray, having only tasted real battle once against the beasts that lurk the outskirts of the realm, expectations of glory and honour were running high in his mind.
​Matthew smiled slightly to himself, skimming briefly over the next segment about joining the "Grand Pantry", having already done so at the request of his liege, Ciarghuala. Being the Margravine of Poryatu, the Coffey family had no doubt interacted with her servants, although unlikely in person. Thankful of her advice thus far and warm words of encouragement, Matthew hoped he would meet his liege in person soon enough, and it seems his wishes were to be answered.
​The next segment caught Matthew somewhat by surprise, not that the feast was unwelcome, and after all, the wealth of Luria Nova was unmatched so noble feasts were inconsequential from a monetary perspective. More so that he were invited, personally, by the king. He reminded himself that such was probably sent to all the nobles of Earth Hall, shaking the notion of importance off swiftly. Humility was to be his saving grace, his family had told him upon leaving the safety of the estate, but young bravado had been taking the better of him up until now. His mind drifted once more to the people he might meet at the feast, what they would talk about, how they would react to his presence. Such a spectacle, attendance was not only expected, it was mandatory in Matthews eyes.
​Certainly, his next task was to see a reputable tailor.
Roleplay from Nicholas Archival
The journey to Giask had been taking longer than expected. The roads were not of pristine quality, and though Nicholas was astride his destrier, Stalwart, the retinue that followed in his wake marched by foot. His Sworn Swords, as they had rather bombastically taken to calling themselves, were not what he was used to. He thought back, only days before, to his final hours in the Archival estate. The thundering of galloping hooves was a familiar sound, now confined only to memory... at least for the time being. Mathis Archival had been a fine cavalryman and knight, but had not the money to afford his son such a unit. Instead, it was the mundane reality of the small infantry unit that he had since accustomed himself to.
He would make do. It would not do for him to make any complaints; his position offered him far more than the typical citizen of Luria might expect. Coin enough to support himself, his estate and an armed retinue was a blessing in of itself that Nicholas did not permit himself to forget. "To think yourself above the men you serve is a short road to hubris and betrayal," his father had always said. It was a valuable lesson, and one he strove to remember, even as his circumstances seemed ever more likely to direct him toward grander standing. The surprise of receiving direct correspondence from both his king and emperor had yet to sink in. Though there was a voice gnawing at him, reminding him that he was one of many. Even amidst the wave of knights presenting themselves to the Empire, the glow of pride was not so easily dimmed.
Aldrakar Renodin, though foremost his king, was the Margrave of Poryatown. It was useful, then, that he had chosen Noble Manor Square for his residence and area of administration. He had not placed himself under the direct leadership of Aldrakar with the express intent of seeking greater influence, it seemed possible that it may occur as a side-benefit. No doubt it would prove useful at least to earn of himself the man's ear. In the regard, it was not so great of a surprise that he had received contact. What remained unexpected, however, was the recognition of the Emperor. Though it was less personal, the gift of both acknowledgement and the two-hundred gold bond gave Nicholas enormous satisfaction. It became apparent that the time with which he moved to represent his family more widely throughout Luria was opportune. None of these facts would escape him, lest he miss the chance to grasp the greatness that so teased itself before him.
Nicholas shook his head, dark tresses whipping in the evening breeze. He had been allowing Stalwart to dictate their pace for quite some time now, he realised, with the setting of the sun above. The knight shifted in the saddle and glanced over his shoulder. The Sworn Swords continued to follow behind him without falter, despite being without mounts of their own. Like their leader, the men of the unit were young and eager, keen to find their place in the world. Though youthful exuberance was no substitute for regimented, diligent training, it was an encouraging start. They were amenable and loyal, to both Nicholas himself and to Luria. They were a fine beginning to his military career, but would soon find themselves amidst greater numbers upon reaching Giask. With that in mind, he consulted his map; Askileon and its port could not be far. Already he could smell the sea-breeze on the air. The occasional gull swooped overhead, before wheeling off back towards the coast.
He had never had the honour of visiting Giask before, and this first arrival promised to be far more interesting than could have been predicted. Recalling both the military summons to the Emperor's Will and the impressive procession of King Aldrakar's emissary, Nicholas took a deep breath to steady himself. Frayed nerves would not fit him in the capital. He had ever been a man - or boy - of slight stature, but to stand amongst the greatest of Luria at the coming banquet, he would have to be tall.
Roleplay from William Fitz Roberts
William gave one final check over the White Shield's equipment before departing for his lodgings. He wished he had left enough time before the banquet to arrange the necessary repairs that had resulted from the day's training, but it could not be helped. As he walked through the streets of Giask, he thought back on the day's events. Immediately upon his arrival, he had gone to the bank to access the necessary funds for expanding the White Shields. He had hired new soldiers to compliment his small retinue, but it would be some time before they could work together effectively. He knew that no amount of individual skill could oppose a well trained force of loyal comrades, and so it was vital that his soldiers learnt to work together. He had little time for slackers and knew that a few days hard drill would bring cohesion to the band. Never one to sit back while his men got dirty, he had taken part in the brutal regime of marching, practising key formations and pike-drill, hiring the best tutor he could find from the academy to oversee his personal training. He did not feel that he had improved in the slightest, vowing to try harder on the morrow. He would not shame himself on the battlefield, war had made his family and he would not bring dishonour to their lineage, humble as it was.
He continued through the winding streets, marvelling at the beauty of the architecture that surrounded him. He had taken humble lodgings, as he wished to save every possible penny for improving his soldiers, the better to serve the empire. He had packed little clothing on his journey to the city, receiving his invitation to the banquet after he had left his estate. However his travelling clothes were most unsuitable, as were the clothes he had worn earlier that day during training. He therefore selected his only viable option, the clothes of all black that he had worn during the mourning period following the death of his father. They were nowhere near as fine as he knew would be expected of an imperial banquet, but they would have to do. He changed quickly, pinning the scarlet fox of his family to his chest and pocketing his invitation. Taking care to lock the door behind him, he donned his hat and walked off in the direction of the palace, struggling to contain his anticipation of meeting such a fine collection of nobles
Roleplay from Staedtler la Stylo
Staedtler began his third day within this new, beautiful continent pushing beans about his bowl with his fingers, uncomfortably seated upon the camp supplies. As his retinue make their own morning meals over the dying campfire, Staedtler's scribe, Hannity, goes over their invitation for an eighth time. Staedtler cleans his plate and tosses a chunk of firewood over to the feet of the designated cook - a leathery apron hanging over his tabard - who promptly drops it into the flame. A cloud of ashen cinders ploom about his feet, smothering the pan of sausages to a chorus of groans. No man under the La Couvercle de la Stylo banner truly knew how to cook better than any other. In truth, the armour they wear is as deceiving as the apron in that none of them deserved to don in. They were not traditional soldiers. Most of the unit had never been in a fight, some hadn't even sparred before. One of the men had never even worn a gamebeson before three days ago, often found to be wearing the thing back-to-front on more than one occasion. Hannity technically had more combat experience than a good quart of the force, having once lost a fist-fight outside a classroom when he was a student of literature. The La Couvercle de la Stylo are a small collection of college pals and academics; educated toffs bumbling about the countryside roads, eating nothing but cold beans in the time between civilisation, guffawing about the golden days of their educations back home. If they spent more time marching and less time collecting flora, sketching the landscape, and rambling about poetry then they might've made it to Giask itself by now. Staedtler is in a constant cold sweat, always asking for the time and date, anxious for an unfashionably late arrival to the first banquet he would attend as a knight. Reputations are a dangerous thing, especially since he would sorely be pressed to earn them with a sword in his hand rather than a quill. A timely arrival would establish a healthy president of efficacy for Staedtler. Lateness would betray the true fool hidden beneath.
Hannity concludes the recital of the invitation and takes a quaff of water from his flagon, wiping sweat from his neck with a wet towel. Staedtler had not been listening, however, and asks him to repeat it again. For clarity's sake, naturally.
Roleplay from Nicholas Archival
It was set to be a short journey across the eastern, smaller stretch of the Euschean Sea. The Myrmidon was a repurposed warship, made obsolete by naval advancement. It provided an efficient - if not comfortable - ride. The waters appeared calm enough, giving the blessing of smooth sailing. Askileon was quickly shrinking in the distance, left behind. The arrival at Giask drew ever closer.
Nicholas explored the ship, driven by a restless nervousness. He had given the Swords leave to entertain themselves during the trip. For their dutiful marching, they deserved the rest. It would not be appropriate for him to lose face before them, though a lump had continued to persist at the back of his throat. Giask represented everything he had been prepared for. Everything he had been trained for. He was acutely aware that any failure to match the lofty heights of Luria’s greatest city would not serve him well.
Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Nicholas gulped in the fresh sea air, pausing as he looked out across the azure waves. His bout of panic began to subside and his good sense once more prevailed. He sighed; this kind of weakness he would have to set aside once he arrived at the capital. The knight shook his head, dark tresses windblown by the gusts. It was ridiculous - he had faced numerous men more skilled and more experienced at arms without flinching, but the idea of a banquet caused him to panic.
Nicholas squared his shoulders and returned indoors to the Swords, who raised their mugs and tankards in salute. Giask awaited.
Roleplay from Benedict Dupont
Arrival at the Feast
The journey from the estate to the Palace took longer than expected, as the route seemed winding and unfamiliar. The days since Benedict arrived at his new estate had been filled with a list of things to attend to, and the intimidating presence of the Palace looming over him only furthered his procrastination in attending the feat. One must make an appearance, Benedict, he told himself this morning, and after an hour choosing a suitable outfit and a clean shave, he set off through the twisting streets towards that great monument to the men he aspired to be.
Although this was his first time in the Palace grounds, Benedict was not a stranger to the city proper, and had little trouble from the guards as he passed through those great doors and was swiftly directing by servants towards the Feast. As he entered the Great Hall, the cavernous size defying what the outside view suggested, Benedict's mind raced as his eyes and ears were assaulted with scenes of magnificent grandeur. Countless nobles and Lords milled around, eating and drinking many of the glorious foods and drinks displayed in the hall. They make it look so easy, Benedict worried as he saw nobles converse with higher Lords with grace and confidence. How am I ever going to manage that without breaking into a sweat?
As if to add to his fear, Benedict realised he had been walking slowly as he mused. Not too far away, in his path, was Aldrakar Renodin, Imperial Magistrate of Luria Nova, Royal of Luria Nova, Duke of Earth's Hall, Margrave of Poryatown, talking to a young noble. Benedict quickly corrected his course, making a swift move towards the nearest servant.
"First, wine, I will be needing lots of wine", he muttered to himself.
This was going to be a long feast.
Roleplay from William Fitz Roberts
William walked at a brisk pace through the city of Giask. Being unfamiliar with the city, he had got totally turned around and now was late. He was furious with himself not only for acquiring a guide, but for failing to make much progress in his duelling, despite having hired the finest master he could come across. He was beginning to realise that nothing could beat real combat experience. No matter, he would return to the field soon. But for now he had a banquet to attend.
He finally arrived at the gates to the palace and presented his invitation to the guard at the gates. He was hurried through to the hall, but as he arrived a steward demanded to see his invitation once more. Puzzled, William handed over his invite. He saw the steward's eyes widen with something like glee as he glanced over the letter. He had seen that look before. He had seen it all his life.
'Sir William Fitz Roberts, eh', the steward said, placing emphasis on the Fitz. 'Why would someone of your lineage be attending such an occasion'
'If you must know, my family was legitimised 3 generations ago. I am certainly more noble than you. Now if you don't mind, I have a banquet to attend'. He snatched the letter from the steward, who stood their in shock at the bluntness with which William had dared speak. William pushed him aside and entered the hall. He sighed. He knew that would not be the only person to question his name before the night was through
