A religious zealot has been traveling through all the cities of Elyria and spreading fear and a warning. A great storm is coming, one even worse than then the one that destroyed much of their land. This one will kill the rest of the land, leading to their ultimate destruction. Warning them that if nothing is done they will all perish.
Is he right? Is there anything they can do to stop the storm? Or is he spreading fear in order to create chaos or even in an attempt to bring the people together as one as they work to survive?
To get you started we wanted to give you the basics here!
If you click on the image to your right you'll find our new member guide to help you get started!
If you click the site information toggle in the banner above you'll find our plot summary and useful links!
Our goal is to be pretty chill and have fun together so we have a short character application and no word count!
So jump in and come write with us in Elyria!
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on Apr 15, 2015 18:43:49 GMT -5
Things were finally looking up, or at least Ara thought so. Maybe a little bit. Of course everyone warned her that being in the debt of her mother's brother was a terrible one. But truly, what choice did she have left? At the rate they were going with the rebel attacks and the less than ideal supply of food, she had to do something.
The young queen looked angelic in her soft white dress as she moved down the hall and to the makeshift camp. Even with all the doubt about her name and the whispers that she would let the Sparkfyre name fall, Arabella kept her head held high. If it was a queen they wanted, she would be that queen, regal, graceful, and strong. For once, she was unaccompanied, the Acaedian prince had some other business to attend to that he wouldn't tell her about. Remy would call her foolish for being without guards but Ara wanted to show that she felt safe in her own camps.
She was the high queen now, she'd have get used to that fact as should everyone else. The young queen strolled right into the main tent of the Grey Marauders.
Post by Miles Madsen on Apr 15, 2015 19:17:45 GMT -5
One day on the ground already and the Marauders had been busy. Between their watches on the walls and as the queen's bodyguards and work on the defences, their day had been beyond full. But the walls now bore newly-built ballistas and onagers under the direction of the sappers and members of the garrison were being trained in their use. And if things went apace, within a week they would have three times as many engines and crews proficient with them. Other work entailed the building of more barrcades, and amongst those was the preparation of some buildings for demolition. Oh, of course their inhabitants had been evacuated and the structures requisitioned by the Marauders, ostensibly as forward command and supply locations. The people who lived or had businesses there had been, of course, well-compensated. And the little queen? None of her people would lose their home to controlled demolitions.
Smiles was looking over the second and third lines of defence, considering how best to mine the roads during the inevitable fighting withdrawal when he was interrupted. When he looked up, it was to see the little queen. He hadn't had the chance to get a good look at her the previous day but now, in the falling light? She was definitely a pretty one all right. When she spoke, he waved her in. "Come on in, Your Majesty. What can I do for you?"
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on Apr 15, 2015 19:52:46 GMT -5
Six years ago, Arabella had watched her father fight a war, but he had armies and battleships. What did she do during that time? Sipped tea and kept the court calm. That was all she did. Her father and brother fought the war, and Arabella was with the women. There hardest decision she had to make was if it was a good night for wine or not.
Arabella gingerly stepped in. Both her uncles and Remy told her to be weary of these mercenaries. What if they had other orders? There was many a time that Arabella was rightfully accused of being too trusting with her safety and welfare. "Are the accommodations to your mens' satisfaction?" she asked. The young queen had seen them working throughout the day. Glances out of windows, walks into town, there was always something going on and a grey uniform nearby. Duke Wesley was a bit bristled about how much of a presence they had become.
"Please, I want a full report on what's happening." Down to business. That's why she came here. Maybe in the last war she hardly knew what was going on, but this time it was her that had to lead. Arabella was determined to not be blind to all of it this round. She had to come out alive with her people alive and well, just as her father had six years ago.
Post by Miles Madsen on Apr 15, 2015 20:24:29 GMT -5
When the queen entered his command tent, Smiles stepped away from his table upon which a map of the town was pinned and poured small beer into a pair of tall beakers and handed one over to his royal visitor. Decorum, it seemed, was hardly his strong suit. However, it was how he got things done. He dealt with people directly and it worked. And in this case, he might force himself to be slightly gentler. But he would not go too far out of his way.
But when she asked about their accomodations, he was genuinely surprised. As usual, they had little say about where they would bivouac when attached to a larger force but this time they had good ground to work with and their camp was actually quite comfortable by military standards. "They got no reason to complain."
And then, what he expected came. She wanted a report. "Not much to say. We got some siege engines built and we've bought a few buildings near the gates, fortified them as redoubts and forward depots. Beyond that? We hired some locals to take care of some of our camp routines."
"So, did you really come here to ask for a report?"
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on Apr 15, 2015 22:10:58 GMT -5
Despite the war against the Acaedians only six years ago, Arabella had grown mostly untouched by the realities of war. She saw her father giving orders, she saw the troops returning from battle, at least the ones that could walk themselves into the council room. She heard the canons out in the bay, but hardly saw them past the castle walls. As her mother had it, war was kept far away from the princesses. All they did was pray and comfort the ladies, of course all of which were married to high ranking officers and had come to seek refuge at court.
"That's good to hear," Arabella said, looking around the tent. She took the glass of beer but didn't drink it yet. If she had learned anything from her time in Acaedia, it was to never drink something first. There was already one attempt on her life from a poisoned drink, and her uncles said to trust no one.
The actual report was mostly a bunch of words she only vaguely knew in context. They all sounded good though. "I simply want to be informed. My priority is to take care of my people and my family." she stated. Despite all the warnings, she believed in the good of all people. Therefore, she wanted to know more about the man she was being forced to trust with everything she held dear.
Post by Miles Madsen on Apr 19, 2015 20:18:39 GMT -5
The fact the queen did not drink was not lost on Smiles. As such, he took a sip from his own tumbler before taking Arabella's from her hands and replacing it with his. She seemed inexperienced but it was clear she had some form of exposure to assassins and saw the potential risk a drink from what amounted to a stranger could be. That was a start, at least: she had something that resembled common sense.
However, she hardly seemed to understand what was being told to her; there was that glazed look in her eyes when he had spoken. But she had to expand on things, to state her priorities, to look after her people and her family. Well, she had some kind of promise going. Granted, it was hardly difficult to improve on her incompetent tyrant of a brother who, so far as Miles was concerned, got exactly what had been coming to him. The fact a civil was was tearing apart the Toren archipelago was only an unfortunate consequence of a population that had been brutalized and could not see the difference between one ruler or another.
Truth be told, the smallfolk tended not to be able to tell the difference with those above them.
"Look, we're doing our thing to make this town as hard a nut to crack as possible. Not saying we'll be able to save everyone, but we can hold for a time at least. Hopefully long enough for the rebels to realize war isn't a fun game and they'll go home." That was the best-case scenario, however he had to tell her what was just as likely. "Or after I meet with Commander Desmond, we'll come up with a plan to shatter them the hard way and send them packing."
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on Apr 19, 2015 22:56:52 GMT -5
Arabella's amber eyes watched the man as he switched their drinks, it was a bit surprising really. "Y-you didn't have to…" she said softly. "A few weeks ago someone... died doing that... for me…" It was the first time she knew someone had lost their life so she could keep hers and it still haunted her. There was a tip off that someone was going to poison her drink, so a tester was put in place. The hand of the emperor said it would be easier if she didn't even know his name, and that it was a criminal with a death sentence anyways. At least he'd dine on the best before his death this way. The young queen took a sip of the drink.
Politics were never something that Arabella had taken to easily, she just remembered lessons with her father. He'd remind his children that the job of the royals was to protect and care for their people. War was just never in her lessons. Arabella's repertoire of skills included hosting, needlework, and keeping diplomats comfortable, not war planning. "These rebels were once my people. They should be my people too, as much as the loyalists are. They are still Toren and live on my islands…" The crown would be heavier than the meta it's made of. There were people that would die in her name or whenever she made the wrong move. The blood would be on her hands, because it was her words that sent them to their deaths.
Ara took another sip and made eye contact with Smiles. "Do you think a lot of people will die?" Would he lie to her to make her feel better? That was the question.
Post by Miles Madsen on Apr 22, 2015 20:30:58 GMT -5
The queen's expression was not lost on the mercenary when he exchanged their cups and neither were her words. Tasters? Poor bastards one and all where every meal might be their last. But Miles knew there was no risk. He had been drinking from that cask for two days now and he washed the cups himself. But obviously she didn't know that. "I knew the drinks are fine, you didn't. I did it because it's just rude to pour myself one and leave you high and dry."
But then, she spoke of the rebels, how they were really her people same as the loyalists. It was a shame she was so young, so naive. Perhaps the rebels were equally Toren but they were hardly hers. And she was worried about casualties. Was she really suitable to be a ruler? Of course, as a leader of men Smiles was never going to flinch at sending his men into battle but he was not one to waste lives needlessly on either side of the engagement. But he had to answer her.
"Look, I'm not going to baby you through this. Maybe some day the rebels will be your people again. But right now? They want your pretty little head on a spike. And yes, people will die. How many? No idea but I guarantee you, it'll be too much for everyone's taste including me."
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on Apr 22, 2015 23:06:43 GMT -5
Well that was blunt, though quite nice really. Ever since the assassination, everyone seemed to be on their tip toes around Arabella, except for her sisters and of course Prince Remington. The cold hard truth hit Arabella pretty quickly. Desmond and Remy had been gentle with her, but it was refreshing to be told the pure truth for once.
It was harsh but true. People wanted her dead and it wasn't from any wrong she had given them. "Then I'll win them over. I want good things for them, for everyone." Arabella's voice was naturally soft, though sometimes she did make an effort to put power behind it. But no one cared what her good intentions were did they? "I plan on turning one of our unused chataues into an orphanage and the leftovers from the feast will go to the feed the poor…"
"What's a queen without people to rule in the end?"
Post by Miles Madsen on May 4, 2015 19:05:51 GMT -5
Miles wasn't sure what to expect when he'd been as blunt as a boulder about the expected casualties. And as he'd said, he didn't much care about the magnitude of the upcoming body count. He was certain, though, his own men would come through mostly unscathed. This wasn't a pitched battle where things could get massively brutal in a hurry. It was a siege, where assaults cost the assailants more than the defenders. And they had munitions. Terrible, effective weapons they were, able to rend men limb from limb, incinerate them, turn them into a sticky red rain of blood, entrails, meat and bone shards. Indiscriminate and the Marauders' best asset after their collective minds.
But the queen, she was idealistic. Wanting to look after the orphans, feed the poor. Those were admirable goals all right. But leftovers? Great way to make the poor feel even lower, being handed the discarded parts of what their betters ate... "Might I suggest you set food aside for the poor and reduce what you waste inside the castle instead of giving them what you couldn't be bothered to eat? I've had to eat from the piles shoveled out after a feast. It's obvious it's what the highborn, the rich, then the staff didn't feel like eating that evening. It was food, I didn't really care, but I knew it was what was rejected. Give your poor people real, fresh food. Better yet, give them a trade. Find somewhere for them to work. You'll have lots of farmland without farmers, lots of boats without crews, lots of tradesmen without labourers. Give them just charity, they'll resent you after a while. Give them pride and purpose, they'll be yours."
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on May 6, 2015 23:04:30 GMT -5
That made enough sense, Arabella had never really thought of it that way. She always remembered the story about how the wedding feast of her parents was so great that there were so many leftover cakes that they were given out to the orphanages at the end of the day. It only made sense that excess was given to those who could use it, then again the castle would have to have a lot less excess if any starting soon. The crown didn't have nearly the money it once did, and asking the Sterlings for money again could end very badly as the young queen was told. She already owed her Uncle Wren for the mercenaries, a loan wasn't going to help her case. "I was planning on finding work for them on my charity projects, working at the orphanage, healers for all, maybe a way for farmers to share food." Those were just a few ideas. Did Ara know how to implement any of it? Not really.
The fact hit her quite suddenly, "You were from the islands before weren't you?" she blurted out. That was a surprise, she thought that the company was mostly Acaedians since Remy had mentioned them. There in front of her was someone that in a different world could've been her subject, one that wasn't well off. The Three did take care of the people on their respective islands, but the civilians and aristocracy was mostly left to the high throne. It was still all crumbling apart in the sky above her and falling around her feet.
Post by Miles Madsen on May 15, 2015 19:56:23 GMT -5
If Miles could think of but one term to describe the young queen, it would be 'wide-eyed'. Wide-eyed naive, wide-eyed idealistic, but not wide-eyed stupid. At least she had something resembling a plan, if not well though-through. Making people dependent on charity, even for their jobs, was never a good thing. Because there was always a benefactor at the top who might eventually run out of money, or run out of interest and then, who was left holding the bag? "You'd probably do better giving incentive to what business and farms are left to hire the people who need jobs, or parceling out the holdings of your enemies to people who can work the land or operate their businesses, or work there. Give your people a stake in their future instead of just doling it out."
But then, she asked a swift, direct question. The islands. He'd been back before this particular campaign, even to his native Tartus and had even walked the same filthy streets he'd once lived on. The faces had changed, but the people hadn't. Gangs still ran the slums, women who couldn't even call themselves prostitutes selling themselves to feed children from unknown fathers or drink themselves into oblivion, urchins who would repeat the pattern or, if ever so lucky, find a way to break it. "Yes. Born in Tartus, and poorer than shit until my sister and I signed up with the Marauders and got out of the slums."
The mercenary spoke without bitterness. He'd long accepted his origins and, with the Grey Marauders, a man's past stopped existing. Once he signed on with them, his past ceased to exist if he wanted it that way. The nicknames often became their identities and many completely gave up on their birth names. And save for very few, there was no Miles Madsen anymore, only Smiles.
But it didn't mean he still didn't feel a kinship to his homeland. Yes, it had never been kind to him but still salt water ran in his veins, along with all sorts of the mongrel blood that made up the poorer population. So yes, these islands were still part of him and would ever be. "Truth be told, I really don't like what's happening here. This place was never good to me and I've been shat on plenty by those who had more money, but it doesn't mean I like what I'm seeing right now."
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on May 31, 2015 18:48:58 GMT -5
Even though King Hanson had managed to keep all the hair on his head, taking care of the people wasn't an easy task. With the old emperor making all this threats and eventually declaring war, But her father had his brothers to support him and she would have her sisters. The slums had always been a problem, maybe that was why the nobles tried to make their homes in the richer parts of Viorli. It made the young queen sad that there were people in need around her. It was the charge of a ruler to take care of her people, and Ara was going to try as hard as possible.
"My father was a great king, my brother wasn't able to fill his shoes. I probably can't fill his footsteps either, but I want to try." Arabella said simply. "I'm sorry that Tartus was difficult, but I want you to know that I will do all I can to ease life for my people." that was the promise she would make for her people and she would die trying to keep it. She was so soft and protected behind the castle walls all her life. "Thank you for your service and your loyalty," she said softly. Sure, the mercenaries were paid for and they weren't required to have passion, but how much could the young queen ask for? Her people didn't love her, at least not yet and she still had to figure out how to win hearts.
Post by Miles Madsen on Jun 5, 2015 18:58:16 GMT -5
Miles could do little but watch the young queen as she considered his words and then began to speak of her predecessors. Kings, to a street urchin, were more than distant. They didn't even really exist. Sure, people spoke of them, taxes needed paying, his officials collected excise fees, once in a while a magistrate came to enforce the king's laws and his face was on the coins that had been more recently struck. But on a day to day basis? He might as well be a fairy tale. So whether he was a great king or not mattered very little to Smiles. Indeed, in his estimation, those who tended to mark a ruler as "good" or "poor" were the ones who benefited the most from his policies. And that tended to be the noble, the wealthy and the powerful.
Arabella's immediate predecessor, though, was the example that that proved the rule. While not fully conversant with his disastrous stint on the throne, the Company Sergeant had heard of his iron fist and ham-handed way of doing things. If not to say ham-brained as well. And that led to the current mess the islands were in at the time.
But her assurances to make things better for the lower rungs of Toren society brought a rare smile to the mercenary's lips. "Admirable goal," he simply replied. But when she thanked him for his service, he was actually surprised. It was true, this was more than just a job. In this short time, this slip of a girl had just actually earned his loyalty. She was young and inexperienced and naive and idealistic, but there was some iron in that shapely spine of hers. She meant what she said and she'd try her best to make it happen.
"You've earned it," he then replied as he reached out and landed callused hands upon her delicate shoulders.
Post by Arabella Sparkfyre on Jun 10, 2015 15:13:13 GMT -5
Hanson Sparkfyre always said that family would be loyal for the pure fact of being family, not because someone had to earn it. It was the name and the other. Queen Leyna on the other hand, had always advised her daughter that no one was to be trusted, then again she was also the sister of The Silver Devil himself.
The little queen could feel the heat between two bodies when Smiles stepped closer. She had learned to stop being afraid to make eye contact with everyone, after all she was supposed to be in charge of something or other now. "I haven't earned anything yet," she said simply. What had the girl done anyways? The entire time she had spent holed up in a manor, writing letters that reached only ears that refused to listen. No one was taking a young woman with no crown and no army seriously, unless they thought themselves or their sons a proper suitor for the throne of course. There wasn't a single battle she had won besides getting to her island alive, and to what throne? Arabella knew she wasn't a victor yet and as naive as she was, she was well aware of the fact she had won nothing yet.