Cat out of the bag: A Xavax RP

[JeVondair]

Roleplay from Selenia JeVondair 
message to all nobles of Greater Xavax


Selenia was out among the people in Priotness when she stumbled, hands shooting to her abdomen as she doubled over. The peasants did not notice, so drunk happy were they to be in the presence of the Xerarch. But Selenia's guards noticed immediately Nobles of the Phoenix Court noticed as her entourage was hustled to the manse the Xerarch had appropriated...



You here rumors that while the Takeover continues, the Xerarch has not been seen among the people since withdrawing yesterday...

While the nobles of Xavax are good at keeping their secrets, the commoners lack the same training. It is said by the brother of the tinker merchant that married the seamstress whose nephew visited a local tavern in Priotness where he overheard that the doctor who had apparently been rushed to attend the Xerarch in secret said, while deep in his cups, that she was possibly in the early stages of a pregnancy...

[JeVondair]

Roleplay from Aramon Abjur   (3 days, 16 hours ago)
message to all nobles of Greater Xavax
A pair of peasant corpses hang by the side of the road in Priotness. In life brought the rumor of the Xerarch's potential pregnancy into the camp of the Arbiter Aramon. Rumor suggests that while he was surprised to hear of it, something else seemed to be plaguing his thoughts when he ordered the rumormongers strung up, and he barely spent the required time to pass binding arbitration on them for defaming the Xerarch before retreating to his tent. His men hung the peasants and milled about confused until the Arbiter reappeared, ordered the breaking of camp, saddled his own horse, and ordered his men to march toward Ejarr Puutl. Rather than marching with his men, however, the Arbiter split from the column and rode off at speed.



The big old blue roan had been a draft horse before it had been purchased by the Arbiter, who chose it for it's size and strength rather than it's speed, so it took more time than Aramon wished to spend in the saddle to reach the camp of the Xerarch. He rode though the ranks of soldiers without much comment from them, busy as they were in striking the camp to prepare for the march to Ejarr Puutl, and rode directly for Selenia's tent, hopping off his horse he closed the distance quickly, his long legs eating up the ground. The guard closed rank before the entrance to the tent, but broke rank quickly at the expression on the Arbiter's face without even thinking to strip him of the oversized saber or silver dagger on his hips. Aramon stopped at the tent flap, calling softly to draw the attention of one of the Xerarch's handmaidens. When one moved the flap open to see who called out, Aramon addressed her,


"Greetings, I heard Her Grace is... unwell. Let her know that Aramon has come and is close at hand should she need anything. Anything at all."

[JeVondair]

Roleplay from Selenia JeVondair  [size=80%]message to all nobles of Greater Xavax[/size]


"Your Majesty" a servant said quietly from behind a privacy panel.


Selenia was in her tent, having retired early that day. She was not yet asleep, however, despite being told that she really should be. In fact, she was told that she shouldn't be on the road as much anymore at all, much less on the road to war. She could not rest, however, She was the most powerful woman in the world, and she had business in the West...


"Yes, what is it?" She eventually replied. Hr tone was not one of annoyance, but it did not hold a great deal of patience either.


"Your Majesty, Arbiter Aramon has arrived ahead of his column. He begs an audience..."


Selenia considered for only a moment before granting the audience. The servant shuffled off to guide the Arbiter in. Selenia did not rise from bed, it was comfy. Instead she wondered at the implications of her Arbiter's visit...

[JeVondair]

Aramon slipped quietly into the space behind the privacy panel that split this inner chamber of the Xerarch's tent, noting the shadow cast on it's cloth surface by the bed and the figure lounging on it, created by light on the opposite side. He passed his eyes over the shadowy form then sketched out a bow.


"Your Grace, word reached me that you were... unwell. I merely wished to offer whatever assistance I or my office can provide until you are able to actively resume the duties of your offices."


He straightened and turned slightly away, glancing back the way he came, considering.


"I am willing to do whatever you require of me on this matter."


As Aramon spoke, his vision safely obscured by the privacy partition, a rooster crowed, reminding Selenia that dawn approached and she couldn't rule an empire from her bed, comfy though it was. She rose and began to dress herself. By the time Aramon fell silent, she was not even half way finished.


She lifted one foot, then the other. Straightend. Tracking fingers through her hair for tangles and stretching her back before taking some small measure of pity on her Arbiter.


"I am not certain there is much you can do, Aramon." She answered buckling buckles. "I am still who I am, what I am." She paused, loosening her swordbelt. It was tighter than before. "It just so happens that I will be...more...in the near future."

[JeVondair]

Aramon watched the shadow of his ruler for a bit as she prepared herself for the day, eternally debating how to broach the subject that really brought him here. Forcing his attention to his saber, he absently rubbed at a dull spot on it's brass cup hilt.


"Indeed, Your Grace. Rumors already circulate about who might have... made you ill. Your Grace... Selenia, many of your court hold you above common human things, especially the new nobles of the Order of the Black Swan. They view you as the living embodiment of the Xavax Imperium. If the person in question is of lesser rank, it might hurt noble opinion of you and Xavax itself."


Aramon straightened his back and stares at the side of the tent across from him.


"Consider my offer, Your Grace, if face needs to be saved. Nothing need to change between us privately."



Selenia paused briefly as the Arbiter's words registered. To preserve her modesty, her image, her honor, Aramon was volunteering to announce himself as the father of her child.


She resumed dressing, saying nothing until she was satisfied with her appearance. She buckled her weapons to her waste and stepped around the partition. Aramon rose respectfully, his massive, savage form seeming to fill the room. Selenia had to look up at him to find his eyes, and when she did, she spoke. "Arbiter Aramon, " she said, speaking with deliberate pace, "I am not ill. I am with child. And not by accident, but by choice. My choice. And do you know what else I am?" She stepped in closer to him, her voice rising in volume, but sharp and cool as the steel she wielded. "I am the single most powerful person on the this continent. By the time this war is over, I'll be wearing the crowns of my enemies resized as anklets! The only opinions I am subject to are my own, and I need no man to protect my virtue."


By this point, her chest was a hair's breadth from his, and her eyes bored into his own. She allowed time to slip, Aramon remained impassive, shielding his thoughts. She did not expect him to break or back down, nor would she have wanted that. Once she felt she'd made her point, she cracked a grin, backed away, and allowed herself to soften. " I do appreciate it the spirit of your offer Aramon. But the only thing that matters about this child's parentage is that I shall be it's mother."


She flipped her hair, ending the discussion as she stretched her neck. "Now then," she said, slipping her arm into his and cocked her head, "how about you escort your Xerarch to review the troops we have here in this miserable backwater of a province?"


He had little choice in the matter, as his 5'5 ruler was already pulling him outside.