Roleplay from Daxion House Thunderborn[/size] [/color][/size](11 hours, 52 minutes ago)[/color][/size]message to all nobles of Greater Xavax[/size][/color][/size]
Daxion sat by the fire hands outstretched. The road was becoming cold with the passage of the seasons and his joints hurt more this time of year. A body hard pressed by his time on roads bleeding for Royalty and country did not appreciate the amount of time he spent in the saddle of late, or the amount of time he spent sword in hand. The last thought brought a predatory smile to his lips his eyes catching the fire light turning eyes normally the color of good chocolate a deeper color almost red.
His thoughts of blood and battle were interrupted by a polite cough behind him "Lord Kildar it is time for you to be prepared for the party" he sighed a very put upon sigh and glared into the fire the corner of his upper lip curling "And if the Kildar does not wish to be primped for yet another evening of trading polite barbs and empty compliments with those that find such things necessary then what oh wise one?" a dry chuckle was followed by an even dryer answer "Then of course if the Kildar wishes to sit in front of the fire and hide from the oh so terrifying nobility of the land that is his right"
Daxion put hand to his heart turning to the aging warrior that stood behind him. The warrior smiled a smile as thin as the blade of a good knife as he watched his liege lord. "Balin you wound your Kildar truly your words cut me to the quick." the mocking smile fell from his lips like a glass pushed from a table by a small child "That being said I am weary enough with out having to deal with what is sure to be a night of trying very hard to hold my temper in check and not sheath my blade in some poofed up pompous ass that thinks that he farts jasmine and pisses rose water"
Balin kept that same thin smile upon his face as he inclined his head "Well then it is a good thing that the invitation states that you are to go without blade." Daxion surged to his feet "Oh that is the last bloody straw they can have my sword when they pry it from my cold dead fingers. Those stuck up asses can go piss up a tree for all I care. Not only am I instructed to leave the men behind because of course they are to rough to be allowed to dine and party with nobility but Gods above and below know they are good enough to bleed and die for them, but now they wish me to leave my blade behind? To the hells with that I'll stay here with a skin of wine that I'm sure is not as fine as what they drink, a stew from Mother Ivanov pot which I know will be better then what they are eating and I'll listen to the men and women that I bleed with tell stories and lies and enjoy myself that much more. " he turned back to the fire intending to do just that when that soft sardonic voice spoke again "Lady Cadewy will be there...and I'm sure she would be disappointed if you missed the opportunity to spend time with her."
His broad shoulder slumped knowing he was defeated ".....fine.....Call in the Mothers...tell them I will need their aid after my bath so that I might be presentable " he grumbled as he made his way to his tent to fetch soap knowing the river would be just so pleasant at this time of year and night "And NO BLOODY SILK" he made his way to the river and when he emerged dripping, blue and sputtering but clean teeth chattering he made his way back to his tent to be properly dressed. Three of the camps Mothers spent time shaving his face of the three days stubble, trimming and then braiding his long brown hair in its warriors braid letting it hit him at his hip, they wove strips of black leather within the braid changing the way the weight of his hair swung and giving it a slightly darker sheen, on the end of his braid a onyx panther head jaws open in a scream of challenge was bound giving weight to his hair.
Helping him into the black patterned leathers while he growled under his breath.The workmanship was of course Keldaran make, formed from deer and dyed by hand when first seen it simply looked like black leathers, but when he moved and the light changed you could see that it had subtle stripes in a lighter shade of black it covered him from shoulder to hip while leaving his arms exposed. His boots were tight with strips criss crossing them to just below the knee the chest piece was obviously ceremonial thin leathers molded and layered giving both flexibility and protection. The finger-less gloves they put upon his scar covered hands ended at the elbow tied up his inner forearm, curved claws rested on-top of the back of his hands extending to his knuckles. They covered the blades in leather so tight it made the weapons appear as nothing more then a cleaver accessory.
The mask was reverently placed upon him. A masters work it was a hammered metal mask that covered him from upper lip to forehead. The face of a panther with Daxion's eyes stared out the slitted eyes of the predatory face enhanced by the skill of the Keldaran crafts man that made it over the course of years until it was fit for the Kildar to wear. Finally his torc with its snarling panther heads, the silver armband with its panther pictured rending a deer its teeth sunk into the preys neck were placed upon him. The Mothers stood back and nodded declaring their Kildar ready for his battle.
Daxion sighed once more flexing bared biceps as he moved to test his flexibility while the mothers watched soft smiles on their lips "Many thanks to you Mothers. I am honored by your care." They tittered a bit before taking their leave. Balin was waiting for him when he left the tent. "Your invitation Kildar...we will have men watching if you need us we will be there as always" Daxion nodded and shoulders tight made his way towards what he assumed was going to be a night of frustration and boredom teetering on the knifes edge of pushing him into a rage. He flexed his hands enjoying the comforting weight of the claws there a smirk on his lips "Try to disarm me ..heh never going to happen" he appreciated the way the Keldaran had hidden the weapons on him.
He stepped through the cities streets following the directions given to him by Balin. Arriving at his destination he quirked eyebrow behind his mask. A tavern was not what he expected, his thoughts had been a nobles residence with a garden to show their wealth and offer hidden places to be what they considered naughty. His eyes rolled, he did so hate that word. With one last sigh his lips set in a thin line of annoyance he pushed the door open and made his way within. [/color]
