Author Topic: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey  (Read 112 times)

Daniel Coffey

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The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Topic Start: December 16, 2017, 07:27:00 PM »
Just going to post up all the RP messages that I send to others from Matthew. This won't include letters, just the personal RP side of things. I'm only going to involve general stuff that would be openly known by potentially lots of characters or is otherwise not intrusive of other players RP. More private RP I'll leave to those who've been a part of it :)

Hope you enjoy the read!
« Last Edit: December 16, 2017, 07:30:51 PM by Daniel Coffey »

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #1: December 16, 2017, 07:29:07 PM »
The Call to Arms

"Come, men and women of Luria Nova, sally forth from your humble homes and rise to face the waking sun! A bright and glorious time dawns upon us, for we are in need of strong arms and noble hearts, for our great empire calls for your aid. Let us hide no longer from the challenges that face our realm and unite for the betterment of all."

Word spreads fast in a city like Giask, and to others around the empire, through the many trade ships and merchants that ply the roads of Luria Nova. A particularly young and unassuming noble from the Coffey family in Poryatu has recently taken to the inner city of Giask, trumpeting the cause of Luria Nova. Word has it that he calls for the banners of many other lesser nobility, studded throughout the vast territories of the realm, to take up the sword and their family crests to better serve the Lurian people.

​What colourful individuals might take up this mighty request? What will the people of Luria Nova make of these summons? Does this spell good or ill news for the realm at large? Only time will tell.

​For the upper nobility of the realm, the rumour mongering of the commoners and the barking of a petty knight probably go beneath notice. Yet, knights about the realm appear to be rising from the estates in great numbers.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #2: December 16, 2017, 07:30:05 PM »
The Invitation

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.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #3: December 16, 2017, 07:31:55 PM »
The Grand Feast

The proceedings had begun, that much Matthew could tell from the myriad sounds coming from the Golden Palace. The smooth marble steps heralding his ascent, with armoured guards keeping watchful vigil like chiselled statues, complementing the architecture as well as providing a stalwart defence over their betters. Matthew travelled with one other, a servant it seemed, accompanying him exactly two steps behind at all times and keeping pace like a well trained lapdog. The young man looked over his shoulder to double check, offering a thin smile to the servant, who returned it. Superficial of course, neither particularly got along with the other, nor did Matthew expect it, they were of different breeds now, after all. Still, a trained and delicate hand to fetch him wine or deliver messages when he were trapped in conversation would be useful, no, necessary at this event.

​He nodded to the guards as he moved through the great Palace doors, entering a preliminary corridor, studded with grandiose artwork along its length. Music drifted down the gargantuan hallway, as did the laughter, speaking of good things to come. Matthew welcomed it. He was at home here, whilst all the bravado might follow him on the battlefield and in his speeches, it was the courts that called. Here he was in his element, as his former tutor always noted with mild derision, a now deceased knight whom he owed much for his squiring. Horsemanship and swordplay are one thing, but it was never these things that brought his family this far, he reminded himself. As lowly as commerce and hard work might be, his lineage always preferred mercantile and academic pursuits, with only a handful of ancestors appreciating the sword. It was a good thing Lurians prided meritocracy, unlike many other realms, otherwise his new life may never have come to be.

​A curt nod came to the steward collecting invitations; manservant swiftly heeding the silent order with the bejewelled letter that Matthew had received from his overlord, Aldrakar Renodin. He entered without taking the briefest glance back, arrogant assumption that he was granted passage and that this was where he belonged. The open doors released a cacophony of sweet imperial grandeur. Confident that his simple purple tunic with white hose, embellished with but a sturdy leather belt, was dressed enough. The quality of the material could not be disputed, velvet from D'hara, or maybe Madina. It wasn't local, that was certain. Matthew made note to keep his jewellery to merely his signet ring, a golden serpent pinned to his tunic and a single golden ring, set with a modest pink tourmaline, on his right index finger. One could also not forget their sword or dagger, as much a part of his dress here as on the battlefield, his former tutor had informed him. He didn't dispute it, and whilst thinking it unnecessary to have a sword, he certainly felt the knife might have practical applications of opening letters or eating with at least. Neither were particularly impressive at the hilt, but the scabbards were lined with silver swirling patterns, a mild attempt at prettying up what was essentially a butchers tool.

​"Sir Matthew Coffey, knight of Summerhill Hall." heralded his servant dutifully and clearly, though Matthew expected the formality would be lost on the din of music and chatter throughout the great hall. Nevertheless, he stood tall, gazing over the crowds once. Then twice. Slowly and methodically, casting his eyes about for his overlord first, and then his liege. Not seeing Dubhaine about the thronging noble and servile crowds, he strode toward Renodin with purpose. Spotting the king was no effort really, his presence was given due distance from lesser nobles and his attire alone had him standing out like a sore thumb. Good for Matthew, at least. Thankfully, the training he'd been conducting saw him fill out his tunic a bit more so than usual, hopefully betraying his youth. With his charcoal hair bobbing about the shoulders as he approached at some speed, he motioned for his servant to come forth. Having arrived at his destination, being dwarfed somewhat by Aldrakar's trained physique and kingly bearing, the young knight bowed deeply to his king. He did not rise until he was spoken to.

​Once Aldrakar had recognised the young knight, he cleared his throat before speaking clearly yet softly, "Sir Matthew Coffey, at your service, my king.  I come bearing a humble gift as gratitude for your invite, I hope it is worthy of finding itself in your secondary collections." He offered forth a letter to the king, signed in his own hand, for a stallion that had come from his own stud up in Summerhill, currently stabled with no expense spared at the Palace stables. "I trust he will serve you faithfully and fully." Retreating a step, Matthew smiled briefly, inclining his head to the man.

​This would be good night already, he could tell.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #4: December 16, 2017, 07:34:35 PM »
The Grand Feast: Part 2, Electric Boogaloo

’Thank you, you must have done your homework. Not too far away from the Palace  you’ll find the Rendorian Equestrian Academy.’’ As if he was in a private conversation with a long lost friend, Aldrakar stretched out his arm and pointed in the rough direction of where said Academy was. ‘’My son trained there and some of the Empire’s finest cavalry men and steeds come from there.’’ Good choice of gift.’’ Aldrakar made a smile that looked awefully much like a grin. ‘’Come see me there sometime, we’ll test your horse against some of mine.’’ ~ Aldrakar Renodin

​Matthew followed the direction of Aldrakar's arm, nodding slowly as he was spoken to. Relieved that the gift was well received, the youth could only hope that the Palfrey was good enough. A bit ill tempered, true, but strong and fast, one of his better stallions. Hopefully the stud could find a new stallion, perhaps from Matthews adventures. Returning from his trail of thought, his gaze returned to the king at the invitation to test his skills. It sounded a lot like his old mentor, and horsemanship wasn't one of Matthews fortes. Still, his smile didn't falter as his nerves were tried, "I would relish the chance to ride with you, my lord." A practiced bow followed, stepping back to receive Sir Ceryn.

"It is good to meet you. Sir Matthew Coffey, was it? Of Summerhill Hall? I am Ceryn Onyxis, Knight of Poryatown. Always a pleasure to meet fellow Lurian nobility. Tell me, have you met Sir Cream? I think you and he would get along splendidly." Ceryn waited for realization to dawn on the knight's face at the joke. "Forgive me, sometimes I cannot help myself when such amusements arise in my head. Truly, it is good to meet you. I do like coffee; I'm sure it will be an honor to serve alongside you." ~ Ceryn Onyxis

​Perhaps forgetting his etiquette for a moment, Matthew couldn't help but bark a laugh, turning to his tormentor. During his squiring such banter often got bandied about amongst the hopefuls, all seeking approval from their betters and from each other. The joke was not original, but hearing it in these imperial halls made him feel at home, his posture slouching somewhat to accommodate his newfound ease. "And a pleasure to meet you also, sir Ceryn, I have not the fondness for the drink myself. Too bitter, see, but perhaps if we can find lord Sugar..." his speech trailed off, smirking at the knight as if he'd already said enough.

​Content with viewing Aldrakar's interactions with the other knights, Matthew took the time to inspect his equals. Nodding to himself as he silently named each of their families from their distinctive heraldry; these were the men that had answered the empires call to arms. He appreciated that, these men could be counted upon. More would come, he was certain of it. Straightening up for Aldrakar's speech to Nicholas, he could not help but feel the same pride Aldrakar did. This was his king, and he would see to it that both his family and his overlords would be honoured, as was right and proper in this realm. Once the procedure was finished, he snapped for a servants attention. "A toast perhaps?" Matthew spoke loudly, looking from the group assembled to other nobles nearby to the throne, "To the health of our king and the glory of the empire." He rose a glass of red wine at that, smiling pleasantly enough to those gathered.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #5: December 16, 2017, 07:36:21 PM »
The Grand Feast: Part 3, Winding Down

Once the toast had been conducted in the kings name, Matthew, satisfied so far with the results of the feast, would spend the majority of his time wandering the halls of the palace. Wine in hand, he would often stop to speak to nobles he passed by, occasionally refilling his glass and drinking far more than he could manage. He was not particularly good with alcohol, despite his slightly larger size, "perhaps I'll get used to it​", he mused to himself. Contenting himself meandering about, red in the face and barely admiring the grand statues and paintings he passed by, it wasn't long before he stumbled across the great library contained within the palace walls.

​Seeing this as a good opportunity to cool off and perhaps indulge his curiosity, Matthew stumbled into the veritable complex of knowledge. The archives were vast, containing generations of information about all manner of subjects. Unsurprisingly, nobles, servants and scribes pottered about here as populously as the labyrinthine corridors about the palace. Quick to strike up conversation, Matthew could be found for most of the evening thereon burying his head in old history books, maps and accounting ledgers. Dry topics to many a scholar, let alone a noble. Scribbling away on some parchment as he went, the young knight made many notes and drawings as he read, offering light conversation with any noble that passed by, but generally ignoring the rest of the libraries denizens.

​He continued ordering more wine throughout, but made certain it had been watered down some.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #6: December 16, 2017, 07:37:16 PM »
Aftermath at Grodno

Matthew picked through the corpses on the battlefield, strewn about in a macabre waltz. Skeletal faces grinning still. He shivered, gaze wandering up to the sky, and then toward Lord Cador's war camp, as if tracing the trajectory of the aerial bombardment that ended the magic keeping these foul creatures together. Raising his voice from its usual soft tone, the young knight barked orders to his men to loot the field. If there was anything of use left, it would not be wasted, that much he took away from his mercantile background. He peered at one of the dead, skull smashed in the mud, "​was that before or after lord Cador arrived, I wonder."

​Stalking back to the camp, the stout youth took a moment to regard the fluttering banners arrayed amongst the tents. Sir Donald, Nicholas and William had arrived, as well as others that he did not immediately recognise. ​"​I shall see these fighting men and women of Luria before the battle is here, perhaps we can come to some understanding before swords are drawn​", he mused to himself, idling at the crossroads between these collected souls that would be committed to the fight for the empires security. "​Perhaps we can come to some mutual prospects outside the battlefield, when our work is done​", he nodded to himself, and made his way to the collection of tents.

​Whilst he did not relish the thought of facing the nightmarish creatures coming from the hills and wilderness, he at least took solace in the fact he was not alone in doing so.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #7: December 16, 2017, 07:38:42 PM »
First Blood

Matthew was hauled to his feet by two of his soldiers, the formation moving off without them under the leadership of their captain. His horse had bolted during the first bout of melee, spooked by the smell of rotting flesh and chattering bones. He hadn't even landed a blow yet. The Golden Serpents had already advanced, trudging dutifully over the corpses of the dead. They had been eager prior to the battle, relishing the chance of glory that had been promised to them. Bruised and frustrated, the knight shook the two off, shouting for them to catch up. Taking a moment to survey the battle, he saw sir Donald being assisted off of the field. He cursed. The first horde had been dealt with, cut down in a brutally swift engagement from the varying battalions of the junior knights. The other group approached, smaller, but no less threatening. Matthew wouldn't leave the field so soon.

​Marching slowly forward, held back by the weight of his coat of mail; breathing restricted by the close-faced helm on his head. He snapped his attention to the ground. A hand had grasped his leg. Raising his flanged mace to smash the creatures skull in, Matthew stopped as the wounded soldier grasped for salvation. One of Staedtler's boys, he recognised the face, or what was left of it. Cheek to jaw had been cleft by some blade he reckoned. It wasn't a fatal wound, not yet anyway. Shaking the grip off, he continued his steady pace back to the front, he had no time for this, the battle would be finished without him.

​Pushing through the back lines of the engagement, Matthew went looking for his number. He would not be disappointed. Across the blood soaked dirt he saw it, lurching toward him like some grotesque nightmare. He wasn't a brave man, but he knew his name would be wounded if he didn't show his worth. Perhaps he was more afraid of that than the foe he had yet to face.

He would soon regret that decision.

His shield raised, he made his way toward the rotting soldier. It lunged at him with surprising ferocity, he expected something more clumsy. Surprised, he deflected the blow with some difficulty, stumbling back a step. Attempting to retaliate, he swung through attempting to catch the creature in the side, only to find an axe planted into his arm mid swing. He was far too slow, and the creature was clearly a better fighter than he. Yelping in pain as he was sent to the ground by a swift barge from the corpse, he hurled his mace involuntarily into the fray.

​The creature was upon him now, dealing two more blows in quick succession to the felled knight. Bloodied and disarmed, Matthew blocked the strikes with his shield, before smashing the creature across the head with it. He wasn't weak, and such a blow would have felled any regular man. This thing didn't even flinch. Gasping for breath, he brought back his shield in a futile attempt to defend himself. The creature stepped down on it, pressing it into the knights chest whilst raising its axe for the killing blow.

​A crunching sound, as a sword lodged itself into the creatures head, cleaving its rusted helm in two. It fell limp once more beside the knight, who could do nothing but lay there, made helpless by the weight of the armour he wore. His saviour stood there, the crest of the Water's family emblazoned on his breastplate. Matthew tossed his shield to the side and held his hand out. It seems he might live to see another day yet.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #8: December 17, 2017, 02:05:01 PM »
First Blood: Part 2

The young knight quickly stumbled forward to grasp at the other knights gauntlet, the soft mud beginning to engulf his boots as he pressed his weight down and pulled back. Armour creaked and nearly gave way as Logan called on whatever strength remained to bring the knight back up onto his feet, feeling the other man push himself upwards. Fatigue set in once more as Logan stumbled backwards, releasing his grip from the other knight as to not drag him back. Looking towards the armoured knight, the mud began to slip from his form and reveal the golden serpent emblazoned on his tabard...

Composing himself, he stepped towards the knight, abandoning his blade to stay lodged in the undeads skull. “Sir Matthew! Is that you?” He peered at the close-faced helm but did not wait long for a response. “The dead are failing, we need to join back with the others!” Logan reached down, picking up a rusted mace from one of the undead, breaking off the hand still attached to it. ~ Sir Logan Waters

With the aid of Logan and no small amount of adrenaline, Matthew managed to stand, swaying slightly where he stood. Dazed, he looked around the battlefield once more, watching the knights' combined forces cutting down the undead before them. Bodies littering the now ruined field. His attention turned back to Logan. "I owe you my life, but you are right, we still have a duty to the empire." Struggling, still clutching his wounded arm, Matthew nodded toward the battle. He had no intention of fighting anymore, regardless whether he could use his sword arm or not. But his troops needed to know he still lived, and the battle would not wait for him to collect himself. With Logan's assistance, they might just make it back in time to see the foe felled. "Let us not hesitate now, my legs still work, and that will do!" He barked a hollow laugh, looking toward his newfound companion as mud dripped from the faceplate ungracefully.

Daniel Coffey

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Re: The Chronicles of Matthew Coffey
« Reply #9: December 17, 2017, 02:06:34 PM »
First Blood: Part 3

"I pray it stays that way!" Logan failed to hide the concern in his voice as he managed a nervous chuckle, turning off towards the fighting and beginning to trudge through the mixture of sunken mud and rotting corpses.

​"Just follow my tracks and stay close to me. With any luck these corpses should stay corpses." He said wearily.  Keeping his new mace close at hand he continued to walk with some haste towards the frontline alongside his companion. The moans of the wounded could be heard from beneath the bodies of others, the cries for help sent a cold shiver up Logan's spine as he continued to stride ahead, blocking it out and focusing on the sound of the fighting.

​"We can send the healers for them later." He didn't say with much confidence, turning to look back and make sure his new companion was coping alright. Ooze and mud covered the exposed part of his lower face, a bleak expression shown on the features not hidden away by his helm.  ~ Sir Logan Waters

​Lumbering behind the knight, Matthew did not respond to any of his comments as they made their way across the field. His gaze was fixated on the backs of his battalion. Once they reached it, then they would be safe. He'd considered making it back to the camp, but afraid of a shambling corpse ambushing him in this state, he agreed with Logan. Biting back the pain, they marched on. "I'll hold you to that drink when we return in one piece now..." He wheezed, sounding far more nervous than reassuring at this point as they passed the mangled bodies of friend and foe alike.

​Reaching the back felt like aeons, and the battle seemed close to over. Matthew mustered up what manner of strength he had left and shouted toward the back of his lines. "No victory until every last one of them is put in the ground, press on!" Perhaps it sounded better in Matthews head, but over the din of battle and his usually quiet voice, barely the nearest few troops heard the order. He did not care at this point. He thought only of a strong drink, followed by a long sleep. Panting in his helmet still, he knew that would not be the case.

​At least for now they could have a brief respite from the fighting.