[IRP] Trouble in the North

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Aida

[IRP] Trouble in the North

Post by Aida »

The balmy heat of the Fenian afternoon was giving way in the evening to a gentle breeze from the north-east when Aida Redmoor, the town’s mayor and priestess and a few other things besides, received a missive from the viceregal scouts. She sighed from her spot on an open balcony in the cathedral tower, watching the golden windgauge twist and turn. The Fulakcian acolyte who had been enthusiastically explaining wind currents and humidity levels gave a disappointed bow and withdraw, hitching his blue robes around his ankles as he disappeared back into his tower of barometers and thermometers. Unfortunately, it was a given that this latest business of the Kingdom was more important than the wildly changeable weather of the Fenia summer, and more besides. After all, a Vicereine may be able to bring order to the outlying baronies and border counties, but if an abundance of water caused the crops to rot in the fields, well, that was in the hands of the Mages.

Refolding the letter and nodding to the scout, she followed him down the stairs, looking over his perhaps once handsome royal livery. It was ripped now, in several places, covered in mud and hastily restitched where perhaps a sword had sliced into the poor fellow’s arm. She guided him away from the office and into the hospice, where a green robed acolyte of Jilou immediately came to tend to his wounds after embarrassed protest.

“Let the sister clean you up,” Aida replied to his reddening face, firmly but not without kindness. “You are doing a service to the realm after all, and we need our scouts and messengers fighting fit. The backbone of the realm, the King says.”

Of course, if the King had ever said such a thing, Aida was not referencing it now. But the mention of the Monarch’s pleasure had the man eager to comply, and she took advantage to press more information that the measly Captain’s report had provided.

“Up near the Twisted Forest, or at least, that’s what the locals call it. The people who live in it have a different name for it... as is the case with most of the more remote places in the Kingdom. Anyhow, the villages and hamlets have all been raided, none spared, with cattle and clothing and people picked up and stolen. ‘The hill people,’ the lowlanders call them, but mostly the only name they’re given is that of bandit.”

“And they’ve killed how many?”

“Impossible to say, my Lady, hysteria reigns as always. Some report no more than a few killings, others, a massacre. What’s certain is that these folk have flooded down from the high peaks for some unknown reason, and have definitely taken off cattle and food and torched a few homes besides.”

“And you came into contact with these folk yourself, ser?”

“No, my Lady. My injuries were sustained by the fleeing peasants, who in their anger are attacking anyone in the King’s livery.”

“Yes,” she mused, watching as the green-clad priestess wrung out a linen cloth, the water becoming more pink by the moment, “they broke into my homestead to make their displeasure known in the south, also.”

“People are angry, my Lady. They see the constant picking off of the ordinary folk as a failure by the crown to protect them and now there’s a rumour that some of those displaced have found their place in the mob sponsored by that disgruntled Absynian ambassador. I could try and identify some, if you like.”

“Perhaps,” the Vicereine mused, “I’m not sure mass imprisonment would really solve the root issue though... is there anything you can tell me about these bandits? These hill folk?”

“Only what the rest of Fenia might tell you, my Lady. Their hold over Fenia’s highest peak makes it impossible for anyone to get within ten miles, traditionally they’ve guarded their strongholds and rarely made outside contact. For them all seemingly to have flooded down to the lowlands now makes me believe strongly that some catastrophe must have happened. The lowland refugees talk of undead, of a great herd of vicious hippogriffs who’ll snatch even children away. One even told me of a chimera, here to herald the end of the nation and the King’s death. The captain killed him on the spot for treason.”

She nodded, as the man trailed off, looking tired as the adrenaline of his dash south was beginning to wear off. What person chooses such a life? She thought to herself, how dangerous and reckless and mad and exciting.

Well, to solve this then, perhaps she needed someone with equal talents.

Cutting her own purse from her belt and handing it to the battered scout, she nodded once more and withdrew from room, heels clicking on the marble floor.
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Rannek
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Re: [IRP] Trouble in the North

Post by Rannek »

The smell of fresh blood hung in the air like a musk; there was little circulation in the dimly-lit room, so that was unlikely to change for a while . I should really put some windows in here... Rannek thought to himself, yawning as he cleaned a gore-stained knife with a rag. It was still fairly early in the morning and he'd been up most of the night finishing up an order since he couldn't sleep. For someone like Rannek, sleep was a beast that he would only tackle if he had no other choice — for his dreams were rarely filled with the stuff of fantasies and happy endings. He sighed to himself, missing Belle and the little ones, who were currently the only cures to his chronic ailment. But even then, they were like a double-edged blade and sometimes caused the worst of his nightmares. There would be times when he'd wake up, his heart in his mouth, and he'd have to check to make sure they were still there. People think being immortal is an easy thing. People wish for it recklessly. But sometimes he just wants it all to end... Shaking his head in an attempt to clear such thoughts from his mind, he put the knife away in a drawer and dropped the rag into a small box just next to the open door, the only source of light in the room currently, and made his way out, closing and locking the door behind him, throwing the room into near complete darkness and trapping the bloody musk inside. His little room of nightmares.

The first thing Rannek did when he left his butchery behind him was take a deep breath of the fresh morning air. Judging by the position of the sun, he had plenty of time to kill before he really had to do anything, so he made his way through his small encampment and over to a sizeable tent that served as his armoury to sharpen his swords, polish his armour, and regain some of his old routine. Most people saw such a task as a chore, especially when faced with the sheer size of his equipment. Probably why he never bothered with a squire or steward. That, and over the years he had learned to enjoy the monotony such a task brought him. The rasp of the grindstone against the steel of his blade, cleansing any small nicks that may have tainted its edge. Running his hands over his plated armour that dully reflected the small amount of light that shone through the canvas of the tent, feeling every scratch along its worn surface; this particular piece was almost as old as he was — or so people say. But in reality it's just a remake, a copy, of the armour he usually wore. During this time he usually either left his mind blank, or let it wander. Today he decided to let it wander - but not too far.

He thought back on his time over the past couple months, since his moving to Fenia. After making a quick stop at Imperius where he stayed for a couple days he moved on to Fenia City itself, where he now resided. The first place he visited was his old abode, and his current encampment, which was thankfully still uninhabited, and so he remade his home here again, by the lake. Between now and then, he joined the City Council, provided several services to the Town Hall and even became the town mentor. It's kinda funny. He mused to himself, I've done so much these past few months, yet so little at the same time... The feeling was a bittersweet one, because although he knew his help was appreciated, he also knew he wasn't doing as much as what he could do. His mind then wandered over to his times in the tavern, and to a certain conversation that came up with Aida, who was the mayor, vicereine, and more. Something about peasants throwing eggs at her? Curiosity aroused within him and he began to dig deeper through his memories, carefully... Ah, that's right. There was some kind of mess up in the north, something about bandits? He dug deeper, trying to locate a name but finding naught. So there's some place in the north that's got a bandit infestation, and the peasantry got tired of them and, most likely, their calls for aid being ignored, so they made their way down to Fenia... It was all slowly coming back to him now. "Oh well, there's naught I can do about it right now without a location." He muttered to himself as he placed his hammer down onto his workbench and went to place the vambrace back with its companion, he had found a particularly nasty dent in the plate that he somehow hadn't noticed before. After checking its partner for any similar bruising, he returned the pair to the rest of the set and walked outside.

The sun was now at its apex and had warmed the earth considerably, but still nothing compared to the summer heat. Rannek, feeling refreshed after one of his personal forms of meditation, took out a piece of parchment from his pocket and looked it over. "Miss out on sleep... check. Send out letters to the residents... did that yesterday, so check. Complete order... check. Hmm, it seems I got through that order quicker than I thought I would.'' When you're alone in a forest, sometimes talking to yourself helps keep you sane. Although others would disagree, saying it sped up the decay of the mind. Rannek didn't care much either way, he just did it to amuse himself. Regardless, he had a lot of free time on his hands... at least for the rest of the day. Folding up the paper and pocketing it, he headed back into his armoury and exited a few moments later with a mismatched pair of swords, "I've put this on hold for long enough... My blades edges are sharp, now it's time for me to sharpen my skill." And with that in mind, he made his way over to a small clearing that was still part of his encampment. He clasped both sheaths to his belt, drew one of the swords, and started with the basics. Slowly working his way up to the more advanced techniques, which he used both blades for. All the while his mind being thrown back in time to his younger days, when he was still learning to master the way of the sword; and to past battles, where he now fought imaginary opponents.
Last edited by Rannek on Sun Aug 13, 2017 10:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Aida

Re: [IRP] Trouble in the North

Post by Aida »

There was a certain reputation a man like Rannek had. First, that he was something of a soak, never without a hip flask filled with his chosen brand of whiskey. The second, that his life was cloaked in mystery, his skills gained somewhere, in some land. That he had this family, or that, that he had once held the title to this land, or perhaps another. Questions were met with deflections, clarifications with more obfuscation. He was a man of many lives, perhaps even of many names and appearances. Aida wondered idly if he would change his face at will, like some of the more talented witches of the wilds.

It didn’t matter.

She leant against a couple of crates in his encampment, watching him train with a half smile on her face. He hadn’t noticed her yet - she could count that talent as one of her own, the ability to make herself smaller - and the Vicereine took the time to observe him as he worked. He had made quite a number on the undead in the Cathedral crypt, whose rioting had caused the acolytes to flee in fear. Some ritual, apparently, to send the souls of dead onwards. But the ritual had been accompanied with martial skill, demonstrated now as he swung his twin blades around. She wondered how many he had killed in that long life of his.

But that didn’t matter either.

She cleared her throat, emerging from her watching place beside the crates to make herself known.

“Rannek,” she began, with no interlude, “I have... a job for you. Are you interested?”

She drew the papers from out of her bag without waiting for an answer. A man like Rannek, she thought, had no time to stand on ceremony. Best to explain the problem without it.

“You remember those peasants that egged me in the street - don’t laugh - and the ones that broke in to yell crude things at me whilst I was dining with the Absynian ambassador? Well. Things are getting worse in the far north of the country. The hill folk - these bandits - attack the peasants, and the peasants attack anyone in the King’s livery.”

She offered him the paper, her personal hippogriff seal glittering in golden sealing wax.

“The Barony of Montalto, primarily. All mountainous, with a little valley as I understand. I was turned away myself when I surveyed the country for the Heraldic register, the hill folk can be hostile. I didn’t want to provoke tensions... but you don’t mind a little provoking, do you?”

Aida gave him a grin, still holding the paper out in front of her.

“I know you were intrigued by the problem, so don’t be coy when you answer. If you accept you might take a contingency of guard - or whomever you choose - and travel up north to investigate the problem. I recommend a ranger in my service, one Rumana Amiri, to accompany you... but if you’d rather go alone, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

She paused, considering the promise, “If you succeed in bringing the King’s peace to the area, I’ll see you rewarded. With the land itself, if possible. You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious, if I didn’t trust you to understand. Creatures in our circle, well. They can be callous about the lives of the peasants, but I happen to care about the wellbeing of this country, of the ordinary folk who live and die in our service. I was one of them, once.”

Turning the conversation away from her deepening frown, she managed another grin, “And who knows what treasures you might find up there? Ancient caverns, priceless artifacts. Tell me you’ll accept?”
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Rannek
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Location: Sydney, Australia

Re: [IRP] Trouble in the North

Post by Rannek »

A downward thrust finished off his unseen prone opponent, whilst he swung his off-handed blade to the side of him, parrying an attack from another unseen combatant. Unsheathing his sword from the earth, he immediately turned it into an uppercut, aiming to cleave the remaining foe in half. However this enemy was not one to be taken too lightly, for they jumped back out of his reach. Rannek had expected them to do this however and used his momentum from the uppercut to switch it to a half-pirouette by taking a half-step toward them, spinning on the ball of his foot, with his main-hand still raised in the air, he lashed out with his off-hand in a plain horizontal slice, which managed to break their guard due to his opponents poor footing, and Rannek follows through with his raised sword, bringing it down and putting both his weight and his added momentum along with it into one final blow, cleaving his foe from shoulder to hip.

His name was then called, and with it, his senses return. He was back in the present. Taking a moment to reorientate himself and catch a breath, he looks to where the sound had originated from, which turned out to be the rather small figure of Aida. What is she doing here? Sheathing his swords, he took a couple steps closer to her, since the screams and sounds of the clashing of blades in the background — even if only those of phantoms — was quite distracting.

Apparently she was all business today. Or maybe just extremely casual? Either way, this was something he hadn't expected from her, she didn't even give him a moment to answer her question; perhaps it was rhetorical then? Maybe she simply expected he would say 'yes'. Mentally shrugging, he continued to listen to her as she pulled out some papers, Great... paperwork. Rannek mentally groaned to himself in minor annoyance. He hated paperwork. Continuing to listen to her, and bottling up a snicker at the mention of the egging, he nodded to her in confirmation as she mentioned the events that he had thought about just earlier that day. "Oh yes, that's quite rude of them. Attacking poor hapless peasants like that." Nodding along to her words, he eventually accepts the papers and smirks to himself.

After breaking the seal and, briefly, examining its contents, the first thing he noticed was that it wasn't all paperwork, which he was grateful for. There were maps, reports, aaaaaaaaand actual paperwork. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Taking a quick glance at the map, he could see that it was indeed a very mountainous region, probably extremely cold, even during the warmer seasons, with snow for most of the year round. He could relate to their inhabitants hostility under such conditions, especially when, according to a report he scanned, there were wild hippogriffs in the area. That couldn't be fun...

Aida was a good lass... usually. Under normal circumstances, he would decline such an offer, almost purely because of the reward she offered. He didn't believe it was fair for someone immortal, like him, to rule anything. It upset the balance and gave way for things like tyrants to be made. Regardless of that though, he also couldn't stand the thought of injustice. He had to do something about this, otherwise it would be a while before anyone else did... and by then it might be too late. Taking a few moments to gather his wandering thoughts he eventually answered her. "Tell me of this 'Rumana Amiri' you spoke of." ... Well, kind of. In his own way.
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