Author Topic: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin  (Read 1540 times)

Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #60: June 17, 2019, 09:56:44 PM »

This one is mine again, figured I should help the Phoenix Court move along after the Duel concluded.




Dark is the sky Overcast

As a mindful herd, compelled by curiosity and restrained by custom combined with a twisted sense of duty, Nobles and their servants stood. Their eyes transfixed on the moving shapes of their mistress, their leader and another whom she pursued relentlessly. Fine droplets of rain tried to cloak both combatants in a shroud of minuscule mirrors. Falling both on body and into eyes. Washing the crimson, warm guilt of slaughter to the soil below. Exhaustion was given no voice, sputters of watery mist in their place as mouths soundlessly burst forth their pleas borne from a body that no longer wished to move. That felt the pain, the searing heat of freshly rend flesh.

Cold was the touch that greeted them. Not only of steel but that of enveloping rain. Nemean stood rooted. Like a wet yet breathing palisade he and the other Nobles looked on as Selenia struck down the Duke of Blades, Andross.  As the soil could hold no more, water pooled in the road. Turning to mud the earth and embracing the Duke as he released command over his body. His slack hair vanishing under its filthy, brown surface. His ivory teeth a stark contrast serving as ultimate resistance. Even in defeat and beyond movement, in oblivion as his wakeful presence, he did not yield.

Seeing how Selenia left the circle in which she had dueled the Duke, Nemean came back from his horrified reverie with a start. He involuntarily stepped forwards. The nose of his boot vanished in another small puddle of mud. Moving through with his stride he forced himself to complete it and turn it into a semblance of intent. Moving through the rain, he flicked his head sharply to the right and saw the wet strands of his now dark, gleaming hair whip to the back of his skull.

He stepped lightly and positioned himself at the entrance of the Temple of the Triumvirate. Glancing into the entrance of the great temple he felt a chill run down his back. He didn't dwell on it, didn't want to know. Was it caused by the wind or by that most dreaded of emotions, fear. There was no place for either now. He clenched onto that resolution and tried to push all other considerations from his mind. Forcing himself stand erect, he braved the wind and rain. Raising his chin he ignored the discomfort. Smooth skin a slide for raindrops.

Waiting for a moment he finally looked at Selenia. She had moved in the same direction as he had, towards the Temple. As their eyes met Nemean inclined his head near imperceptibly. Resembling a statue, unmoved by the discomforts of the flesh he deliberately and in a flowing motion offered her the full breath of the Temple entrance. As her body moved through the arch that was the doorway, Nemean looked back at the other Nobles gathered outside.

His hand did not drop to his side, only his eyes moved, from person to person.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #61: June 23, 2019, 10:00:39 AM »


-PHOENIX COURT 3-


Roleplay from Selenia JeVondair


The Phoenix Court: Part V - Binding Arbitration

June 1019
 

“Damn Blints,” Selenia muttered, wincing as she knelt to check the unconscious Andross’s breathing, turning his head so his lungs would not fill with rain and muck. No one moved as she rose to stand over him, none save those holding his howling direwolf at bay. Skia’s Howls added a chilling note to the music of the storm.

Selenia was soaked and chilled, but the exhilaration of the fight yet lent her its warmth, and she used it to address the assembled onlookers.

“When I summoned you all here,” she said, pitching her voice above the din of the rain and mournful howls, “It was to come together and correct a problem. This...spectacle-” she spat the word “- was a direct result of sabotage by incompetence by Queen Eriatarka. Her faults now are a known quantity to us all, and it would be irresponsible not to come together to lawfully discuss a new and immediate heir. I had invited Lord Ryndhal amongst we Xavax so that he may convince of his worth and aptitude face to face in a manner befitting one who would think to rule us. My intent was for him to be questioned, challenged, and evaluated fairly in open forum. I intend to do just that still. However…”

She looked down at the limp form of the Duke of Blades.

“However,” she repeated “this has only taught me that to relax in my vigilance is to court disaster. It has shown that there is work yet for me to do…” Her eyes snapped up to where Skia was still pulling strongly against her restraints, fangs bared. Her eyes sought the Captain of the Forged. “You there,” she summoned him even as she turned and beckoned likewise to Godric’s Captain of the Mounted Torren. She pointed up into the Temple. “Arbiter Godric lies within the healing ward. Bring the Duke there as well. Inform the healers that whichever man is the first to awaken will care for the wounds of the other until he, too, is well enough to leave. Their duel is fought, honor is satisfied, and healing will be had. I command this by their oaths to me. In the meantime, both Forged and Toren will defend this Sacred Place as though it were the Eyrie itself, with the joint authority of my own royal guard. Am I understood?”

The two men nodded their understanding and, together, carried Andross up the steps and into the temple. Selenia herself followed up a few steps before turning to address the crowd. As, grimfaced and drenched, Hogni met her and the  former handed her her cloak. She was already soaked, and the storm was easing perceptibly, but she accepted it anyway and put it about herself as she spoke. “The Phoenix Court will still be held. Now, however, there will be more than one candidate to question. When the time comes for the realm to determine who bear the crown of Greater Eponllyn, I will cast my name forward, and I will do so in the name of unity. If crowned, I will leave the title of Xerarch to take on the name of Phoenix Queen.But I will also form a unified government. I will ask that Duchess Maura or Lord Ryndhal take an active role by applying their local knowledge as my Chief of Commerce. For his lapse in judgement here today, I will ask Arbiter Godric to step down as Chief of Justice, and appoint instead Lord Gray Von Carstein to resume his former duties. Henceforth, under my reign, both positions will be open to regular elections to ensure the thorough mixing of ideas and values. And while stripping Lord Godric of his position in government will have to suffice, the Duke of Blades Andross Blint will instead be stripped of Kimmel. This is equal parts  confirmation as it is punishment, for it simply must be."

Her gaze panned over the assembly,  alighting here and there as though daring someone to gainsay her. At that moment, none chose to. She continued. "This It is not the first city we have had to give up in the name of this war, and we should have learned on the Path of Ashes that home is not a place, it is where our people stand. Now, this realm is where all our people stand. Whether we like it or not, the realm needs Bescannon, the realigning of the Northern Alliance requires that it be so, if we are to pursue our war against Perdan; the entire point behind the merger in the bloody first place and those knights that value Krimmel as their home of Greater Epponlyn as their nation our myself as their monarch are welcome to stay home and take up arms for Shadowdale instead. Finally, I will change the banner to the Redwing as promised.However, every year on my birthday a vote will be held whereby those of art and knowledge may submit new designs that may better represent the unified monarchy and its noble houses. This will give our people time to better learn of one another,and in so doing, perhaps a more all-encompassing banner may be devised and adopted. One vote, on package, one realm and one people.”

It was a longer speech than she’d wanted to make, but she’d had much to address. The words had flowed into her, inspired by all the recent conflagrations, and she’d allowed them to move her, feeling the truth in them as she breathed them into being. She ascended the steps, meeting the eyes of Nemean, her son, Ayden’s son. He nodded to her so subtly as to be imperceptible as he moved aside and offered her the entryway. She did not speak, but place a hand upon his shoulder, squeezing it as she re-entered the Hall of Elysia and shortly made her way to the seat she’d selected beneath the southern goddess. Armed, soaked, and dangerous-looking, blemished with mud and blood, Selenia seemed almost a living disciple of the warrior statue’s aspect.

“So,” she said into the silence after the hall had filled, elbows resting on her knees as she leaned towards the pulpit with a note of challenge in her voice. “Who else wants to be Queen?”


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #62: June 23, 2019, 10:02:30 AM »


-PHOENIX COURT 3-


Roleplay from Godric Tórrarin ka Habb


Godric awakens slowly. His wounds are healing remarkably but he still has stitches in his flesh and it pains him to move quickly. From nearly eviscerated to all but healed - truly the glory of Tor.

More letters pass his desk. His retainers had not informed him before, so as to not distress him, but he has been stripped of his position as Chief of Justice via his oaths. These letters, however, vindicate him in his heart. He snorts, "shown mercy? More like someone could not finish the job." He ponders a moment. Perhaps ink shall suffice where his sword arm did not. After all, to Tor everything is a battlefield.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #63: June 23, 2019, 10:03:08 AM »


-PHOENIX COURT 3-


Roleplay from Guldor D'Espana


Guldor saw the end of the duel, listening to the later speech of Selenia with a neutral expression. When she entered the temple at Nemean's suggestion, he followed her, stepping on the entrance for a moment to cross his eyes with the young lad's. Nodding to express his conformity to what they had previously agreed to, he broke visual contact and finally entered the inner hall.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #64: June 23, 2019, 10:17:39 AM »
Aaaand a little intermezzo RP. The army was assembled and Nemean was present yet since the order to move out hasn't been giving, camp, for a young Noble is proving to be rather boring.



The Joys of Camp

Sitting on a tree-stump a young, green eyed Noble stifled a yawn. The bustle of camplife had lost its initial grandeur. Now it just looked like camping in the mud and there was plenty of the brown goo about. Just ahead and slightly below of his position a couple of his men were practicing at sword. Wooden training weapons thumped and clonked against one another. Often followed by approving or mocking tones.

Kicking at a tuft of grass Nemean struggled to pay attention to the boring spectacle. The men clearly had little skill beyond the basics and that was no surprise. They were horsemen after all and the blade a secondary weapon by far. That didn't stop them from self improvement though, something that had been on Nemean's mind also. Yet opportunity, unlike for his men, wasn't so readily available to himself.

Casting another glance about, in a vain attempt to spot something useful or at least mildly entertaining, came up empty. More mud, more tents and more terrible cooking. His gaze full of disinterest and his chest rising with a heavy sigh.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #65: June 25, 2019, 08:31:08 PM »

90 Nobles and some 90k combat strength (CS). It's shaping up to be a battle to remember. As an introductory piece I felt the urge to write something. This is that, a small Rp that I hope might inspire other people to send out Rp's of their own.


Proving Grounds

Riding out from the forests of Meuse and onto the foothills that marked Winkamus, a noble only gently touched by the passage of time, rode at the head of a very modest contingent of horsemen. The banner they flew was sabel and upon it, a rampart lion depicted in gold.

With the winds picking up and cresting the latest hill in a score, Nemean's dark blond hair rippled behind him. His eyes resembled the slits of a greathelm as he peered over into the distance. Somewhere out there, in one of those fields or shallow valleys there would be a great battle. A test of arms and courage. His young heart fluttered. A chance to prove himself and to show the world he was worthy of the name JeVondair.

The fierce smile on his lips started to fade as he thought about it. A strand of errant hair whipped about his face before being trapped beneath his jawline.  Worthy of the name JeVondair and Renodin. His lips hardened into a resolute line as he dug his heels into the sides of his mount. Ever pushing closer to carnage and a scene for which his young mind surely was not prepared.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #66: June 26, 2019, 09:50:23 AM »

Roleplay from Godric Tórrarin ka Habb


The Mounted Toren ride at a steady pace. Trains of men stretch back along the winding forest roads, scouts riding up and down with directions. The Xavax had become known for a grand cavalry charge: Selenia's Fearless, Andross's Forged, and Godric's Mounted Toren. But this coming morning, there will be a new member of the charge. Godric remembers the banner of House Renodin, he shakes his head of thoughts. He still fights for a purpose. He joins the chants of his men.

Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #67: June 26, 2019, 09:51:32 AM »

Roleplay from Guldor D'Espana


An unusually deep frown decorated Guldor's forehead when he rode the last few miles towards the gathering point for the Northern Alliance. The entire handling of the latest internal crisis disgusted him profoundly, and an intense feeling of unrest stinged him from the deepest parts of his heart. It had been a truly long time since he had felt with such intensity, and he was not sure about the reason that had made his long-held apathy for everything that was not battle and war to be pushed away.

Before him, thousands upong thousands of torches lit the camps at night, both theirs and their enemies'. At dawn, one of the greatest battles of modern times would take place in the woodlands of Winkamus, where either side would take a significant blow that could very well change the balance of power. The unrest started fading away, replaced by the eagerness for the sun to rise. Yes, that battle would be a good for one for sure. Good enough, perhaps, to...

There he stood for a long while, watching the trembling fires and deeply submerged in his own thoughts.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #68: June 26, 2019, 09:52:31 AM »


Roleplay from Mary Anne de la Fere Bluelake


With scout reports arriving from every corner, the princess left Elena in charge of the maneuver, mounted her steed and headed to meet the Emperor. It was a short ride, and she barely needed to guide the horse. It gave her time to see the incoming army with her own eyes. A double-take on the rendorian banner, one just like the gift she had offered her godchild years earlier, and she sighed. Word had gotten to her that a son of Asher was now fighting the south. The redwings also had two children she'd have raised as her own if she could. Looking towards the southern army, she couldn't even distinguish anymore who were the goldwings and who were perdanese.

Dismounting, she headed to meet Stanmore. His guards didn't even ask, just obeyed her wave and opened the path to her and the ever faithful wolfhound.

The Emperor was drowning in letters, maps and reports as usual, and Mary Anne couldn't help but smile. Walking lightly, she approached and sat on his desk, right on top of the Empire's map. She didn't look anything like the Ice Princess now.

- We really should get married, Stan. Look at the battles ahead...


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #69: June 26, 2019, 09:55:17 AM »

This is the actual great battle, expected 90 nobles (players) from at least 8 different realms. Nemean's perspective of course as that's the character I play there. Enjoy!


The First Great Battle

Filed in neat rows and all squared up the banners of four realms presided over a grand army of the north. The crests of over fifty Noble houses proudly displayed. All eager for the glory that was sure to come. Across the field was the camp of the South. Rows upon rows stood nearly motionless. He didn't know their banners, only those of the most prestigious Nobles and even then, only vaguely.

It felt strange to him as the archers marched first. Well ahead of his own horsemen and even the infantry. In crisp order they all advanced. Those that were fastest came last, as such, he had a great view of the unfolding battle. Every muscle in his body was tense and his mouth refused to remain hydrated no matter how often he drank from his waterskin.

At the trudge of his horse Nemean had plenty of time to look left and right of him. There he saw the magnificent warriors of House Blint, Ka Habb and Castillo but also one of Caligus, by lead of the great Rand of House Gardarr. Each of them had over eighty riders, every single one more impressive than even his own best. Nemean looked down at the dirt in front of him. More pressure to achieve. Resolutely he lifted his head as the horn sounded. The signal to ride.

The sky ahead was darkened with shafts. They rained like an autumn storm upon the Southern ranks. He could hear their screams. Did his eyes deceive him? He squinted. Dozens if not hundreds of Southern soldiers stood stoically as wave after wave of arrows slammed into them. One particular ''soldier'' stood out to him. At least two dozen arrows had struck the figure but yet, it remained standing.

Now he was riding past the friendly infantry. They cheered them on. Raised their weapons in salute and were happy to see the horsemen race along. It fueled Nemean's desire to do well. It reinforced his beliefs that he, as a Noble had to set a good example. It were the Nobles that gave great displays of bravery for the common born to draw strength from. The archers ceased their barrage for a moment. Creating a window.

His eyes informed him of the enemy moving.  There were so few moving. Why were there so few moving? ''Visors!'' came the call from the captain and without giving it more thought, he lowered his. As lances lowered, he braced himself for the inevitable impact. Reminded himself where his sword hung and to drop the shaft of the lance once it broke or didn't come loose.

The riders all around him, mostly those of other Nobles began to howl their war-cry. Not nemean, he tried to focus. The landscape around him like a dark dream with flashes of light as they sped past the slit of his visor. The horses fell into a great gallop, his heart thumbed in his chest. The war-cry of the men around rose and morphed into a bestial roar. Then, there was the crash of metal, grunting and horses screaming. Like a great mailed fist the armoured riders charges into and through the Southern ranks. Bunching his shoulders together and searching for a target Nemean couldn't find any. Where were they?! The hedgehogs of men didn't bleed. They simply stood there with arrows sticking out of them. Not a single one moved.

''Wheel! Double back!'' The order came and Nemean did as ordered. ''Enemy in the rear!'' The tone informed him that the captain started to panic. With good reason, no enemy should ever get behind the cavalry. How was it possible?

Getting frustrated Nemean ripped off his helmet with his shield arm, letting it bob against his backplate. The world was rich and beautiful at once again. The bright sunlight bathed the world in color and the wind liberated him of the stuffy feeling he'd been trapped with inside the cocoon of his helmet. All about he saw scarecrows. Straw men with only the barest of equipment. ''Curses!'' He uttered in sheer frustration. Robbed of Glory and more importantly, a chance to prove himself.

''Damn them!'' His lips pulled back and his white teeth glittered in the morning sun. ''Bastards!'' In his youthful rage he gave his mount his spurs. A thing not benign to the creature and a sign of a lesser horseman but Nemean didn't care. There were still a handful of Southern Lambs on the field of battle and he wanted them.

As so often happens though, youthful desire was denied. He rode back and forth from the battlefield and his lance didn't touch a single enemy. In frustration and fully drenched in sweat Nemean exited the battlefield. He didn't even consider the fortunate fact that this also meant that none of his men had died. Yet, that didn't even cross his mind.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #70: June 30, 2019, 02:25:44 PM »
Welcome back. Today I bring you what I hope will be at least a small chain of rps. Guldor promised Nemean stories of old for every battle the young Noble participated in. Having done just that, Nemean's eager to claim his prize.


Collecting Tales

His very own tent. A round pavilion, the walls made of thick linnen and on the inside even lined with furs. Circled with shaped stones at the center sat a fire-pit. The evening before he had used the metal poker to carve a small horse on one of the stones. It didn't look as good as he'd wanted to but it felt good. A sturdy fieldbed decked with even more furs stood at the opposite side of the entrance. Next to it there was a proper weapon-stand. Gleaming daggers, two lances and again two swords nestled in its embrace.

Looking around the tent from his seated position behind his desk, a satisfied feeling settled over him.  This was his now. His own. The smile that had formed upon his lips lessened a bit as he looked down at the letters that inhabited his desk. The latest of his replies only just being taken to the former Arbiter. Confidence surging, Nemean got up and finished off the last of the watered wine that remained in his cup.

Exiting the pavilion he was greeted with a curt ''Sir'' as the single guard acknowledged the young Noble. Nemean didn't regard the man, he was on a mission. The sun was out today its rays making everyone a little bit brighter.  He still felt odd having the Nivemusians around. Something about them, their accent maybe. He wrinkled his nose as he caught sight of a group of their tribesmen but didn't linger. After a bit of a walk Nemean found what he had been looking for. Sir Guldor's standard.

The fabled warriors camp was situated just in front of a small brook. Allowing his bannermen prime access to fresh water, easy bathing and short trips for cooking water. Nemean envied the camp site but tried not to show it as one of Guldor's archers challenged him. ''Halt, who are you sir?'' The words polite but still firm. Standing a little taller Nemean indicated his embossed leather cuirass.  ''I am Nemean of Houses JeVondair and Renodin. You don't recognize the Crest of the Xerarch?''

Regret would be an accurate description, relief another when Nemean simply passed the man by. The young man's stride brought him to Guldor's tent where he again was stopped. This time by two guards. Explaining his intend Nemean declared that he had come to visit the old warrior. To visit and to claim a reward.

Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #71: July 11, 2019, 05:56:31 PM »

One of the great things about Battlemaster is that stories hardly ever go the way you imagined or predicted. This Rp illustrates that in a way.



Sudden Summons

Standing in the camp of Guldor waiting for the man to either summon him into the tent or to refuse the young man, Nemean heard a small commotion behind him at the entrance of the camp. The usual challenge but there was more going on. The challenge was crushed with a Royal Seal. The messenger went straight for Guldor's tent.

Only to halt right next to Nemean and addressed him. ''Sir Nemean?'' Dark verdant eyes beheld him. ''I am him.'' As soon as those words came from Nemean's mouth the messenger bowed and presented a scroll. ''The Phoenix Queen summons you.'' Another bow and the messenger departed.

Standing there, waiting on a response Nemean considered tucking the scroll away but the messenger already hinted as to what it was. With a sigh he broke the waxen seal and read the contents. A frown formed on his forehead. Just a simple summons, no further explanation. It did make it clear that he was expected first. He looked up from the scroll to the entrance to Guldor's tent and wondered for a moment. Then resolution hardened in him. ''Tell the Lord Guldor that I have been summoned by the Queen. I wish him good health and shall find him some other time.''

With that Nemean turned about briskly and headed for his own camp. Once there he informed his captain, the quite lovely Jacinta to assume command and to follow the Talon's orders. Also sharing with her that he was summoned by Selenia and didn't know when he'd be back.

Bringing only the essentials Nemean rode off. Headed for Westmoor and riding through the landscape that is Troyes. The otherwise beautiful of the land left baren of his attention, the road his only focus. A day later the young Noble arrived at the capital. A strange place still in his mind. Its people were so very different but he tried to ignore it. He went straight for the Palace where he learned that Selenia had not yet arrived. As such, he resigned himself to waiting. Washing, eating and writing a couple letters in the meantime. Can't let good time go to waste after all.


Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #72: July 11, 2019, 05:59:17 PM »


Roleplay from Selenia JeVondair




Selenia did not ignore Andross or his Forged when they suddenly appeared around her own Fearless and fell in to join her escort.  She ordered the carriage to come to a halt and asked the driver to send word to the Duke of Blades to join her. A few moments later, he cantered up, resplendent in his proud arms and armor and a look of grim determination on his face.

"Don't worry, Your Grace, I'm not on my deathsbed just yet." Anymore she thought to herself as she opened the carriage door and beckoned for him to join her.  Despite their rather public altercation, her smile was genuine, even though opening the door caused her to grimace with the pain of her wounds. Shadows haunted her eyes, she looked exhausted. Even so, she smiled still.

"Since you're here, we should talk."

-=-=-

Some time later...

When Selenia had returned to Westmore, a flurry of messages baring her royal seal departed for foreign destinations. Among these were missives that also bore her ducal seal, that of Redhaven, and was addressed to the knights thereof. It came as no surprise to the Phoenix Queen that the first among those to answer had been her adopted son, Nemean JeVondair.

Selenia had not taken up a permanent residence in Westmore, but the Royal apartments of the previous monarchy were maintained and made available for her use. When Andross and their combined soldiers had escorted her their, they'd made quick work of settling her in and taking over the local guard detail during her stay. It was thence that Nemean was escorted.

What he found when he was finally ushered into her presence was...new. Throughout his life, he had never seen Selenia as anything other than the picture of vigor. She trained often for most of her life, and it showed. Looking at her now was like night and day. Her robes could not hide all the bruises, all the new scars, from her near-death experience in Bescannon. They could not hide the weight she'd lost wasting away as her body and the healers fought off Death. He'd never seen her look so...weak.

Selenia, however, seemed unaware of her condition, or at best determined not to let effect her. Smiling broadly, she rose and opened her arms to him. He did not miss the wincing as she did so, nor how she favored her right side over her left.

"My son" She greeted warmly, hugging him. "Is it just you then? That's just as well, I suppose. Better, even. We have not had time together lately anyway and there is much to discuss."

-=-=--=-

Nemean was just about to speak when a knock sounded at the door behind him.

"Dame Aria to see Her Majesty" came the gruff voice of the door guard.

"Have her come in," Selenia called over Nemean's shoulder. To him she said "Abide a while, son. I will want to speak with you individually as well"



Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #73: July 11, 2019, 05:59:52 PM »


Roleplay from Aria Lucchesi Attano


Aria made her way to the royal apartments of Westmoor as soon as the royal procession entered the city. Her stomach twisted in a knot of excitement and dread.

She was admitted through the door and found herself in a room with the Phoenix Queen and a man she had never met, though she knew his name.

“My Queen.” Aria said, dropping to one knee.

Renodin

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Welcome, glad you're here. Today I've got what might be a small chain of Rp's. Little bit of background info. Alyssa Kingsley and Nemean have been exchanging some letters. She is a young knight much like Nemean is but she's on the other side of the great war as him and has been quite vocal about her idea's on warfare. Especially about how she think he does things the wrong way.

So here they meet, on a battlefield where both their sides were supposed to fight one another but instead both fought side by side, that's a stretch, against a third enemy. Enjoy!



Facing Grave Danger, Together

Today was a good day. The wind tugged gently on the cornucopia of banners ranging from the northern most realms all the way to those that hugged the southern coast. For the very first time in his life and probably for all the other nobles present likewise, they all fought on the same side. Nudging his steed on with his knees Nemean drank in the scene. While it wasn't quite as idyllic as he described it to himself in his mind, it would nevertheless be a sight to remember.

A lush field in Moyale, that most fertile of the midlands hosted a very unequal trio. On one side there was the nothern host. Comprising of bannermen and warriors from far flung realms such as Sirion, Caligus, Eponllyn Nivemus and even Shadowdale. Not a little bit suspicious and laden with  bucked-loads of paranoia they eyed the southern host, which had deployed right next to them. Like a very impressive flank. It made him grin to see the two armies so uneasy yet so close.

The swordbrethren, marksmen and riders of the realms of Perdan, Perleone, Vix Tiramora and the brusque Sydgard were right there. Not an apple's throw away. And they weren't attacking one another. No, the reason they didn't was because of an even greater threat. War or no war, there was a matter so important it would even transcend such petty conflicts as total annihilation between entire realms. ''What could it be?'' Nemean mockingly mused to himself as he turned his gaze to this gravest of threats.

Lo and behold, just down the field of the two giant armies there stood a rabble of peasants. Brandishing pitchforks, scythes and even wooden mallets. A stray black cat hisses most ferociously as it alternates between rubbing its supple body along the raggedly clothed legs of working men and casting death-glares at the pompous nobles its human servants face.

At some unspoken signal both armies began to come alive. Finding his place among the cavalry Nemean looked over at the southern host as he tried to spy out a particular and specific banner. ''Funny how she wanted me to stand under a white banner.'' The words formed and came from him as his eyes caught sight of the Wolf banner of House Kingsley. There was little time to ponder the matter as the order to advance was given. Comical. Four hundred peasants opposed them, The Lord of Lorient, Lord Samuel II of Perdan alone could handle that bunch. His men wouldn't even remotely venture into danger. Nemean shrugged and signaled his captain, a quite beguiling woman that went by the name of Jacinta, to advance as well.

The infantry moved like a wall, the cavalry trotted behind them occasionally laughing at their situation and before anything could really happen, the peasants experienced a hail not quite of ice but of steel. A morbid spectacle where flailing arms and masks of terror was all the peasants really offered before they were slammed against the ground with arrows made for war.

As the affair was over rather swiftly, Nemean turned his mount towards the Southern Host. A marshal called out to him, to not break formation. At which Nemean called out that the dangerous foe had already been beaten. ''Piss off''. He left behind him a rather baffled Marshal.

As he approached he felt rather conscious of his vulnerability. The spears gleamed a little brighter in the light of the early morning sun. The shields puffed up like a strongman's chest inhaling a great gulp of air and the eyes. So many eyes followed his every movement. Not wanting to tempt fate he remained in the saddle and simply called out when he felt close enough to the White banner of House Kingsley. Said distance became precariously diminished as he caught sight of her. A fierce and resolute expressed made soft by finely chiseled lines that made up the contours of her exquisite face. Topped with a pragmatic yet labyrinthine crown of golden white braids which barely hid small and round ears.

''Lady in pink!'' The words instantly made him grin. ''Now I know why you wanted me to come to you under a white banner! To match your own!'' The jest invigorated him with bravado. A thought about the recently slain peasants snuck into his mind but he decided against it. ''As you said! People dance and laugh and pray. They have things they love and cherish and today, you make me smile!''

As his steed pawed the ground displaying thick bands of muscle under a dark coat of fur, Nemean wondered how much longer his welcome would stretch. Venturing a few more moments he wanted to see if the beauty would respond and if she did, with what.