This was an rp send as an army from Yssrgard moved through Caligan lands without announcing themselves. I saw a Noble I thought might be an interesting plot hook to reach out to. Turned out said Noble agreed.
From a Hillock
The plains of Mashhad revealed a sparse forest of pennons. A bright Aquila prominent among them. Nemean squinted his eyes as he beheld it. He knew that bird. Waiting for the riders to go from to fro, patiently until he reckoned they'd be within earshot. Meanwhile making sure his own banner was proudly on display. Planted deeply on the very crest of the earthen outcropping. In his mind, while watching the riders of an old family friend, he could see the clods of dirt being thrown from their hooves. "Tórrarin!" His cupped hands directing and enhancing the volume.
Just that word. If the old man had ears capable of listening still, that'd be enough.
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Roleplay from Godric Tórrarin ka Habb
A voice calls out "Tórrarin!" Godric slows his horse and looks, spying a figure on some far hill. He squints and motions for a younger man to look.
Noble. House.... Renodin. Godric nods, tucking in his arming sword. "Keep marching, I'll catch up." He sets off towards the hill and slows to a trot as he gets closer. Three of his riders follow at a comfortable distance. He raises a hand in greeting.
"Lord Renodin." Godric tilts his head as the nobleman becomes clearer. "Lord.... Nemean! My hasn't it been a while? Do we serve the Lords of Caligus now?" Godric's eyes narrow. He looks more like his father than he ever did before, although the aura of his mother permeates outwards. The eyes in particular remind him of the 'Prince of the Xavax'. He tries to shake off the feeling but old grudges die hard.
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From a Hillock N.2
"Lord Renodin." Godric tilts his head as the nobleman becomes clearer. "Lord.... Nemean! My hasn't it been a while? Do we serve the Lords of Caligus now?" Godric's eyes narrow. He looks more like his father than he ever did before, although the aura of his mother permeates outwards. The eyes in particular remind him of the 'Prince of the Xavax'. He tries to shake off the feeling but old grudges die hard.
The old man had come with an escort. The smirk that appeared could perhaps be explained away by the brightness of the sun, not that he cared to offer any excuse. Surprise was an initial emotion the elder warrior revealed. Soon to be squashed in good tradition with a rebuke, however minor. "..And you have abandoned the Phoenix Court entirely. Having fled to the southern crust of the continent.'' The counter wasn't formidable. Nemean knew it but it didn't need to be. As long as the challenge wasn't left unanswered.
A token gesture was made as he indicated with his chin ever so slightly behind him towards the expanse that eventually would hold Fontan City. "I've had time to study the histories of my father. As much as they were recorded and then some.'' Irritation and then also some poorly veiled disappointment slipped into his delivery of the words. The latter part of his delivery meant to reinforce rather than to weaken. Knowing that the elder before him had lived through it all made any attempted facade hard. ''The City and lands were promised to my father.'' Weight shifted from one boot to the other. Curiously, the fingers extending from his fighting arm twirled towards the handle of his blade.
"Xavax fought and died for that legacy. Other Xavax did nothing and let that happen.'' This man before him had been part of his childhood. To speak of time before he himself was even born felt strange suddenly. ''But you know this.'' Clearly there, Nemean quested. Familiarity perhaps, or connection. The tone of voice rose a bit. The richness softened. The green eyes beheld the wizen man of Tor.
Wetting his lips he resumed after a brief pause. "Legacy. The Past. Trails not yet walked upon.'' The brow arched. "We are beholden, we are unbound yet we strive still. Xavax was bestowed and had chosen our bloodline. Fontan was bestowed and taken, all but its city. The Throne of Perdan was taken.'' There his voice tapered in volume. ''..Oligarch, Eponllyn.''
''..We serve not Caligus, our lineage, we have birthright."
His gaze wandered over to the three riders that had accompanied Godric before it returned to the man himself. "It seems your mind is still sound, you yet managed to throw a barb with your initial words. A feat surely at your age. Though I do not wish to perish you nor due to my actions. You were a trusted man of my mothers. Both. Be well old man.'' With that Nemean readied himself to depart. A horse was tied to a struggling sapling at the bottom of the little hill.
