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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Thu Aug 20, 2015 6:43 am 

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Queen Cestaline // Scarborough Castle
@thetruegarsot @Lewi @WildSpawn



Her slender fingers pressed gently into her husband's hand, but maintained a posture of well-meaning. She had much practice in projecting herself in such a way that was unreadable beyond her intended communication. Three years being wed to the king of fools demanded a well played demeanor. Allistair rejected her proposal, and she allowed a look of hurt to set into her previously confident and caring expression. It often worked with Allistair; the oaf was weak in the face of emotion. He allowed it to guide his decisions far too easily. It was a shame Aurion was always injecting him with reason, or she'd have crushed this miserable kingdom long ago.

It mattered not, however, if she could win him over with pity. Cestaline had long maintained her secret from Allistair- even from Aurion and Harold. See, there were different breeds of magic. Many were versed in combat magic, like her dear husband, and others in more utility spells like Harold. Some magic was like a faintly lingering perfume, and some left a roiling scar- Bren, for example, was easily identifiable by his past usage of tainted sorcery. It lingered in his aura, the dying black flames forever attempting to rekindle themselves in a long extinguished hearth. Some magic was nary detectable, even if used. Those of the arcane would find themselves hard-pressed to sense nature magic, because it did not leave the same magical fingerprint as other arts did. Cestaline played this to her advantage.

She was careful about her magic usage, because while tracking it was not easily done, it nonetheless left traces, and she would be naive to think Aurion and Harold hadn't noticed it. However, with no tangible connections, she'd managed to disassociate herself with its presence thus far. Her thin brows pressed into concern as her eyes darted between the three men.

"Do you distrust our Barons, Aurion?" she questioned, though not in an accusing tone. She turned to face Allistair, weaving a look of slowly dawning understanding. Her voice dropped to a hushed undertone, the kind she used to address her husband directly. "And you would send your two most valued men into such dangerous territories? You cannot allow this! Send soldiers instead," she pleaded, taking hold of his hand in both of hers now. "If you must, send some mages to collect intel. We cannot afford the lives of our Archmage and General if the threat is imminent, hm?" She pressed.

She knew her pleads to keep them out of harms way would go without consideration. The Queen was a diplomat, not a war strategist. She wanted only the safety of her people, but knew not of necessities involved in operations engaged in by their military. That concern was already in capable hands. Her sentiments would be cast away as just that- worried sentiments. Ces knew they would go through with the patrol, because she knew that Bren would not relent until he found his scouts or he'd drawn his last breath, and Aurion would never turn up a chance to defy her wishes. The salty bastard.

Finally, she cast her eyes down, released a tired sigh, then turned forward in her seat again, folding her hands into her lap. She studied the table top, biting her upper lip as she pretended to consider the stakes. Harold and Earl were another matter to be dealt with, but Harold was frail and old, and could easily be dispatched should she need to. Earl was young, but inexperienced in magic and thus she did not consider him as big a threat.

"Very well," she relented, "Shall we consult then with Harold and his apprentice? If you insist upon this patrol of the outskirts, it would do you well to meet with our Archivist first. I'm certain he can also produce a map for you, as well."

The kitchen servants presented their breakfast. Cestaline indulged in humble quiet, demonstrating all proper table mannerisms as she eyed the rest of them. She idly wondered if the ethereal fiend across from her would pretend to eat again. It'd always disturbed her. Cestaline had seen him do it before. She knew little about djinni, but she knew for certain the ethereal did not need to eat to survive. Why he did it was anyone's guess. Perhaps he wished to maintain a human appearance? She would have scoffed at the effort- everyone at this table knew that human he was not. In fact, their general was almost more qualified with his untouched plate.

Bren suddenly stood, pushing his chair back with a loud drag of its legs. Cestaline lowered her utensil, her head turning curiously in his direction. She could barely hear his muttered excuse before he marched out of the dining hall with purpose. She shot the other two an inquisitive look. Truthfully, though, she couldn't have cared less what he was up to. He would die soon enough, and the king and his wretched Scarborough would follow. And that was all that mattered.

General Wolfhart // Scarborough Castle


Something foul was in the air. He recognised it immediately when he observed Aurion's collected exchange with the queen. He could see that Aurion did not favour her, and while his reasons were anything but concrete, Bren knew that Aurion sensed something he couldn't. To be fair, the djinn was distrustful of almost anyone the king came into contact with, but he had to wonder; the queen had been involved with the court, officially, for three years. Not once has Aurion changed tune with her. The hostility had yet remained quite the same. He didn't know what Aurion sensed in the woman. Bren could feel magic as well, and while Aurion was practically made of it, Cestaline seemed as much as a magic user as a rock in the gardens. He had his doubts. Had Aurion witnessed something concerning about her?

Bren found himself so deeply in thought that he missed when the servants filled their table with breakfast foods. He eyed it idly, even going as far as to pick up his fork and prod at the biscuits- no matter how amazing the dish smelled and looked, he couldn't think about eating without reminding himself that his men were hungry and cold, and here he was, enjoying a proper and full breakfast with royalty itself. The guilt gnawed at him until he simply set the fork down, peering up at the king and queen with forlorn eyes. He trusted they could and would handle things of the less direct nature. He had to be there for his men. He would take the king's advice and rest up before their patrol- that he promised him already, but until then, he had a duel to look forward to.

"I'll be in the Ring," he informed them in a low and inarticulate voice. He excused himself rather abruptly, but they were all accustomed to his manner of urgency often practiced at times. The Ring was the castle's very own training ground, laden with different practice weapons and training dummies. It was smartly situated where it could be seen from the infirmary wing, which Bren managed to keep busy as he had his soldiers training among themselves in calmer times. With all of them spread and assigned duties, the Ring was quite abandoned lately.

He remembered his days as a mere chamber boy, always passing the Ring, running between the different sections of the castle. He would always stop and watch when any of the knights were training. The way they danced and handled their blades with such expertise, undaunted by the cuts on their shins or the sweat rolling down their temples, drew his undivided attention without fail. Bren hadn't known it then, but it was the influence of this art which would cause him to turn against his own mother. The knights of Scarborough were the first humans he'd ever met to show him kindness and belonging, after all the lies his mother told him about the 'Steel-wielding men'. At the time he was meeting with her secretly for years, almost every two moons to keep her in touch with his progress. It sickened him to think he had ever been a part of her plans to dismantle the royalty of this kingdom.

He'd taken up a sword now, and began dancing around one of the training dummies, striking at it like an angered snake, then swiveling as it spun to retaliate. As a boy, he'd always done this in the dead of night. No soldier ever trained at night, so it was the only time a young chamber boy could even touch the weapons, let alone swing them. His swings were loud and clumsy, and he was knocked on his bottom many times. This lasted perhaps a month before he was caught. One of the knight-captains, instead of scolding him for it, coached his moves. Every night he began to catch him like this, until he was invited to train during the day with the rest of the lads.

There had still been the problem of his mother. For years he simply put aside his dark arts and focused on his swordplay. The more immersed he became in Scarborough, the less he was interested in keeping his mother's plan for him in tact. He made the mistake of telling her that he wished to become a knight, and forsake her mission as his allegiances had shifted. She wasn't having it; too many years and far too much had gone into training Bren in the most powerful sorcery she knew. The last time he attempted to contact her ritually, she attempted to force a demon into his body. After countless nights sleeping with wards strewn about his quarters and all over the castle, he decided enough was enough. He eventually cut her down with his sword.

The dummy exploded in a shower of straw and bristles as he swung his blade down upon it. He exhaled a tired breath. It was easy to imagine the dummies as his mother when he trained. He was a fierce opponent when his kingdom or those he loved were threatened. Whomever this secret enemy was- and he prayed him and Aurion might find a lead on their identity tonight- Bren would see to it that they answered to their crimes.


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Fri Aug 21, 2015 3:20 am 

The Blood Trials have officially begun.

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King Allistair


Allistair looked to his wife as she spoke and he held her hand in both of his lightly petting the top of her hand with the one that didn't have fingers laced between hers. "Darling calm down. It will be alright. I promise. Everything will be fine." He explained to her. He was sure his general and archmage would be fine. They were both very competent men, and he trusted their judgment to go on a patrol about the borders with each other and come back unscathed. One of them might concern him, but surely the both of them together in the same party couldn't fail.

Though when she mentioned consulting Harold and Earl, he couldn't agree more. It would simply be foolish to go on a patrol about the borders without a map in hand to mark the areas they'd checked and to make speculations on where to look or where they may have been taken based on clues found. He nodded to her. "I fully intend to see Harold and Earl some time today after my sparring match with Bren so that I can procure a map for them and have them look up a few things for me." He reassured her.

Allistair tried to satiate his wife, but really his attention was on his "brother", Bren. As his best friend, and closest thing to a an older brother, or any sort of sibling for that matter, that he'd had growing up, he tended to be a bit protective of Bren. And when he was hurting like he was, it ached Allistair to the core. He didn't know how to make these internal worries and wounds go away. He did, but it was out of his hands. No matter how versed in combative magic Allistair was, he couldn't just make his troops reappear out of thin air, as much as he would like to. So when he excused himself from the table without so much as a bite to eat, Allistair wasn't far behind.

Allistair had eaten little more than a biscuit or so himself before Bren had left. The silence that befell the table upon his leaving was tense. Allistair looked back to the rest of his company and lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth before he folded it next to his silverware and stood. Not to be mistaken for a gesture meaning he wasn't finished (even though it was quite possible the man was still hungry after only one biscuit), Allistair always folded his napkin. A bit of an obsessive compulsive habit he had.

He stood from his seat beside Cestaline, and he looked to his breakfast company. "Excuse me. Do continue your meal." He encouraged them. Whether Aurion followed or not was in the air. He knew the djinni didn't need food, but he was also a stickler for manners, and abruptly leaving the table in a meal was an example of bad ones. Though for the sake of his general, he was willing to make a bad appearance.

With that Allistair turned on his heel and headed out the doors at the end of the dining hall. He walked down the hall a bit to a window from the infirmary and simply watched Bren for a moment. He knew he needed some space, and he didn't wish to disturb him, but he did wish to make certain he was alright. And this was often a task best left to standing back and observing the man's body language. His brow creased in thought, and a solemn, more serious look coated his features. It was a look that rarely adorned his face, as he usually appeared happy and upbeat about his staff and friends. He usually had little to frown about. He felt he was a blessed man. But oh how he wished he could bear some of the ache for his brother. How he wished he could eradicate some of the worry he felt for his troops.

Allistair thought over where they could possibly be. He'd seen the maps. And he'd not been able to draw any conclusions. It unnerved him to think that a potential war was looming over his head. Most kings seasoned in their travels didn't ever see war. Much less at so young of an age. Allistair was honestly frightened. He feared, would he be able to protect his citizens? His family? Would he have a military that could hold up to the foe that lurked in the dark? Who could it be? And would they try to strike again should he have the ability to fight them off? All questions he couldn't answer yet.

After some internal debate and thinking along with Bren some time to cool off, Allistair exited and walked to the ring. He stopped just outside of it and beckoned to him. "Warmed up already? I can hardly deem that fair." He chuckled to him as he reached about his neck removing a button up and hanging it from the fence before donning his leather armor. He never liked using full armor, and when he did, it was either for formalities, they were in real threat, or he was being fitted. But never in training or sparring did he like to wear full armor.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Sat Aug 22, 2015 10:15 am 
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Earl Seaward, the Archivist Assistant


Replacing the small notepad back into his shirt pocket, Earl cast a look of nervousness at his mentor as they proceeded through the hallways, unable to think that any possible threat could come from someone that was supposed to be the king's darling wife. Sure, it was not unheard of for deception to be at this level, especially among those in powerful positions such as the mighty King Allistair, but to actually think that it may be happening now...here of all places. Why? The kingdom that has stood as a pillar of good for generations? The very king that allowed an orphaned, relatively unknown, youth to become an assistant to his archivist? Why in the world would anyone wish to attack one kingdom such as this? These questions burned in the young man's head as he thought about the situation more.

"I will try to keep an eye on her, Harold. But if she is involved in this somehow then she will definitely be alert to any kind of observation we might try to gain on her. Surely it must be something else, though. I could not think of what would happen to the king if his wife turned out to be working against him as he loves her dearly." The tension was building up inside Earl as the two of them approached the doorway to the dining hall, the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to rise as goosebumps played upon his arms. He placed a single hand on the door and hesitated a moment, letting out a deep sigh that echoed off the walls just before the doors were pushed open.

What he saw before him was not the company that was expected, a chill running down his spine as he looked at the figure who was sitting at the table. The queen, Cestaline, alone at the table...well not alone, to the relief of Earl. He quickly discovered that the person in question was joined by the Archmage Aurion, which eased the tension only slightly as the young apprentice bowed gracefully towards both members of the breakfast party, "Good morning, your highness. As to you as well, Archmage. I hope you two are..." he paused for a second while glancing over at the plate that sat in front of the Djinn, realizing the irony of his next words, "..enjoying your meal."

He took his eyes away from the plate and placed them back upon the queen, being drawn in by the beauty that she was known for throughout the kingdom. The type of beauty that was just as captivating as it was mysterious, as Earl had seen it, as you could always see that there was something just beyond those eyes that could turn any man into mush. He was never sure what that something could be but he had always made sure never to lock eyes with this woman for too long lest he become entrapped by whatever it was that was just beyond her gaze. Whenever he felt like he had looked too long, as he felt this very morning, he adjusts his eyes slightly as to break the hold. This time, as with every other time, the break causes a slight blush to play on his cheeks as he realizes that he was looking for far too long.

"How does the king and his queen fair this morning," he asked with humble tone. He was rather disappointed to find that the king and his general were not at the table like the two librarians had been wishing for, making the task for which the pair had come here for much more difficult than it was intended to be. At least the archmage is here, Earl thought to himself as he waited for the queen to respond to his question, not wanting to talk business until the pleasantries were out of the way.


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Sun Aug 23, 2015 12:09 am 
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See that his orders had been followed hesitation Damien smiled at the command and power he controlled. He walked up to cave mouth and summoned the skeletons of twelve ogres. he place his hands on the head of each one feeling of the boney textures and he gave them his orders. "The army has hundreds of men you may kill four men each but keep the general alive he still proves to be useful to me.", he smiled at them as the grunted their acceptance of his orders. After sending them into the cave systems he started walking back to the castle killing small birds to use as message carriers along the way.

Once he was once again in his office he ordered his lunch be brought up to him and food for another to dine with him. it was information that he was after and he would get it from his queen. However her location proved to make that difficult as he couldn't send one of his creations to do so, but perhaps the mage could help. So he sent one of his new messenger birds to summon him.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
View Likes PostPosted: Tue Sep 29, 2015 12:56 am 
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Archibald, the Puppet Master


While still standing within the deep caverns that had been cut into the mountain, Archibald caught sight of an undead fowl that entered the area, flying to the puppet master before floating gracefully, as if it were unaffected by its current state of nonliving, before him. The bird's body was tainted in a way that could easily tell the necromancer that it had been brought back to life through the means of King Damien, as all magic leaves a distinct trace of the user except for those traces that are attempted to be hidden in some way. The taint can almost always be easily identified by those who are masters in the art of magic and even some of the less distinguished arcane artists can see it as well. However, those with no ties to the magical world are almost completely left in the dark when it comes to this unless they have aid from some spell or special relic of some sort.

Archibald let out a deep sigh when he identified the markings, lifting his arm into the air to allow the bird to perch upon it. Doing so, the messenger placed its beak to the ear of the old man and let out a low pitched noise that sounded almost like a hum. This hum was in fact a message from the king for the archmage to meet with him in his office. "Another task for me, no doubt," his low monotone voice expressing his feeling of inconvenience at the order as he spoke just loud enough for the bird to hear, though speaking to nothing in general. He waved his arm to dismiss the bird and reached into a rather large satchel he had hanging from his shoulder, pulling out a rather thick leather-bound book with red yard wrapped around it. Undoing the yarn, Archibald opens the cover and whispers to the book, "Recolo." The book then floats from its master's hands and begins flipping pages quickly but in a controlled manner. Once the book is opened to the correct page a dark green aura pulsates from the writings and runes dance from the page before floating in the air, circling around the sorcerer that spoke the magical word.

A few moments have passed and the book closes itself back up, the red yarn once again wrapping around the covers. The book then falls back into the hands of Archibald who now finds himself in the middle of his arcane workshop in the castle. Using the recall spell allowed him to travel the great distance to hear from the mountains in a matter of a spoken word. For most mages, this spell would cost them quite a bit of energy and would require much rest in order to replenish their strength. However, the archmage has been used to spells such as this and needed no such rest at all as the spell was mere child's play to him. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment thinking about what the king could possibly have in store for him. He leaves the workshop and treks through the hallways of the castle before making it to the doorway with leads to the king's office. Once he enters, he sees King Damien sitting at his desk with food spread out, "You summoned me, your highness?"


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Sun Nov 15, 2015 4:48 pm 

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King Allistair & General Wolfhart // The Ring // Collab Kiddo/Lewi
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Bren hadn’t started when Allistair entered the Ring. He felt him there, but the General took his time in acknowledging his presence. Black sorcery left a stain on the soul, and even without being an active practitioner, he could still sense the magic around him, like a snake might taste the air; a sixth sense he could never turn off. The King had a pure aura, having only practiced battle magic, and Bren envied it. As much as he wanted to divorce himself entirely from that world, he was an unwilling member of it, and there was no pretending that wasn’t true when demons were always hounding him. They couldn’t touch a soul untarnished by the forbidden arts, which was why most smartly kept their distance. He couldn’t hide the flecks of evil that clung to him, but he did have a choice, even so. If it weren’t for Aloysius, for Allistair, if it weren’t for his men, and the life he’d been so graciously given the opportunity to live… he would have surrendered to them long ago.

A bead of sweat trailed down from his hairline when he stopped moving, his muscles tensing and giving off heat as his metabolism caught up with him. Perhaps he ought to have eaten something, he decided, but now that Allistair was here, he resolved to the challenge. Usually, Bren was a man of few words, and knew that he projected a resolute and determined leader when he addressed his men. When he sparred with Allistair, it was different; he was comfortable in the Ring with the other man, a man he regarded as highly as kin. The King provided an outlet that no other could replicate, and he found it easy to lose himself in their contest, away from the expectant eyes of the common people. Bren turned, his sword hand dropping to his waist as what might possibly have been a smile pulled at his lips.

“You wear the armour, and we call it even, then.”

Allistair smirked as he paused in his donning of his armor when Bren spoke back to him. He gave a soft chuckle as a bit of a glint entered his eye. Oh how he loved friendly challenge. And Bren was the only one who could stand up to him it seemed. Twas the benefit of being raised as brothers. He removed what of the armor he'd already donned and stepped more into the ring his own sword hand dropping.

"Just for that," he started, "I don't think I will wear it.” He waited patiently for a response from Bren and wore his competitive smirk the entire time.

"You know what happened last time," he frowned. Bren stepped to the weapons rack and tossed a sword to Allistair, then lifted his own in a defencive stance. "Last chance.” Allistair caught it with ease and cracked his neck.

"I've made my choice. Shall we then?" He asked as he took his stance. "The guest makes the first move." He teased as if Bren was so unaccustomed to sword play that he was a guest in the ring.

"As you wish."

Normally, a duel was started with a bow, but Bren skipped the formalities with Allistair. With careful steps he eased inward, sword held before him in a neutral position. Then, he jolted forward with the quickness of a cat, twisting his sword into one hand and swinging it upward, a move he didn't often open with. It was unexpected and Allistair narrowly avoided the blade, but taking advantage of his open posture, he tried to drive a boot into Bren's ribs to kick him away or down underneath the arm that he had swung at him with. Bren was impressed by the quick reaction, but his focus remained unfaltered. Rather than dodging the blow, he angled the blunt of his sword to intercept it, then shoved back. The shove knocked Allistair off balance and he rolled with the motion in a backwards somersault, coming up onto his feet again with his sword at the ready. Bren pressed his assault, coming blow-to-blow at Allistair's resistance. His movements were fast, but the King was no newbie swordsman, so he didn't hold back, even when he felt Allistair's sword come a little too close to his cheek, leaving a clean cut in its wake. Allistair hadn't come out unharmed, either. In the middle of their farce he had squired a small cut on his arm, but he knew better than to let his guard down with Bren. One sloppy move was all it took. As Bren came blow to blow with him, Allistair took a step close to him fending his sword off with his own and placed the opposite leg behind Bren's knees and attempted to buckle them so he'd fall onto his back. Uncertain of his opponent's intentions, Bren attempted to skirt back, but lost his footing and went careening into the dirt. His breath came out of him when he hit the ground, and his bewildered eyes met Allistair's.

"Playing foul now, are we?”

Allistair smirked and pointed his sword at Bren's throat for a moment before offering a hand to help him up. “All's fair in love and war my dear brother.” A glint appeared briefly in Bren's eye as he tentatively took Allistair's hand, then wrenched down with a strong arm. He was on his feet in a mere moment, his sword now pointed at the king's throat.

"Yield," he commanded, his will not to smile faltering. Allistair laughed as he looked up at Bren and his brow knit in mischief whilst he brought his foot up and kicked the hilt of Bren's sword to make it fly out of his hand and away from his face. Had it not been a friendly duel, Bren would have, in that situation, gone to blows with his opponent in a savage, unarmed blitz. Since it was Allistair, the man simply remained standing, arm outstretched as if expecting his weapon to rematerialise in his hand. With an age-old sigh, he let his arm drop as he calmly stepped around the fallen man to retrieve his sword, and trying not to look vexed that it had even happened. Had he been wearing his armour, it wouldn't have. When he picked up the weapon, he held it pensively as a faraway look fell upon him. Allistair had prepared himself for a wrestling match that never came. He frowned and stood, dusting himself off and sheathing his own sword.

"What's wrong?" He had a sinking suspicion he already knew, but he was going to ask anyway. Bren turned, uncertain how to communicate his current thoughts. He blinked slowly to sort them out before speaking, choosing his words with care.

"Just now," he began, cowed, but keeping his voice low, “Did… you feel it?" It was unlike Bren to stumble over his words, moreso since he used words sparingly. Allistair's brow knit in confusion.

"I didn't....What is it?" He asked. When he said ‘feel’, he wasn't sure what Bren meant. He rarely spoke of magic, so it didn't occur to him at all to focus on magic rather than on something else.

"I don't know," Bren admitted. A glazed look came over him as he considered, very clearly bothered by it. "It's.. foreign. Almost not there." It was difficult to put auras into words. Allistair paused for a long moment before answering.

"Whats foreign?" It was then he felt it. It was just barely able to trip him off. Someone was using magic nearby. "What...what is that?” Something was not right, and they both knew it. Bren had a niggling feeling biting at his thoughts, turning them cold. He swallowed, then gathered his nerves and gave Allistair a hard look.

"It's not black magic," he confirmed, "Beyond that, I don't know. Harold..." he trailed off. Harold would likely know.

Queen Cestaline // Scarborough Castle
@thetruegarsot @krimson_nightmare @Tidfe



The Queen watched her husband exit the dining hall, leaving her alone with the Archivists. Continue her meal? She hardly had the appetite for it to begin with. A careful breath escaped her. In the silence that followed, she set her cutlery down on the gingerly folded cloth napkin. "I fare well, thank you," she began, "Though it seems I am the only one." She gestured to the empty table as if to demonstrate, a distasteful look overtaking her. "If you meant to speak with your King, you'll find you're only just late. He's excused himself. I expect he will be busied for some time." She couldn't keep the irritation from seeping into her words, but it was all part of the persona she had adopted for this role. Scarborough's Queen was not supposed to be fond of the sparring matches they were undoubtedly about to engage in. Cestaline herself wouldn't care if they both took each others' heads off.

"I do wish I could stay and speak with you both," she said, standing now herself and folding her hands together, "But I'm afraid I find myself quite distressed. You must excuse me." It was no secret that she would visit her private garden to calm herself when under stress. She had no reason to hide that- she reckoned that the less she was vague about details, the less they would question her intentions. It had worked for three years now. Cestaline made to exit the dining hall, but paused in the door frame, remembering something.

"Oh, Harold?" she turned sideways in the doorway to address the older man. "The General would like some maps prepared for his patrol. Please have them ready before sundown." The Queen rarely gave orders, unless the matter was of utmost importance. To her, it was. The kind of maps the General would need were military in nature- and thus contained information of his patrol routes and guard stations. Valuable information for General Mozt, should he find it. Giving him no time to respond, she hurried from the dining room. The halls were reticent now, with the guard so occupied with recent orders and all of the servants now likely tending to the vacant table. The cold stone floors were hers and hers alone to walk, it seemed.

The sound of clashing blades drew her attention momentarily when she passed the infirmary halls en route to her little sanctuary. Piercing eyes squint over the stone wall some two stories up, observing her husband’s heated duel with his general. The woman frowned in distaste. At least they would not disturb her, she reasoned. She proceeded with little more thought to the matter. By now, it would be too late for them to salvage their defences, assuming her contact followed through with the plan. It would be a simple matter to put the final nail in the coffin, and finally, after so long… Cestaline shivered. It was too soon to be celebrating. Patience, she reminded herself. Patience was crucial. Her pace quickened until she stood before the turn in the hall, where Allistair had adapted into her terrace. Before entering, she took a moment to peer down the hall behind her for anyone that might be following, seeing none but her exquisite, emerald gown trailing behind her. With caution, she passed through the port.

The change in atmosphere was immediate. She kicked off her dress boots and socks, her bare toes stretching in the grassy, slightly damp soil. It wouldn’t provide the link to the earth, as it was over man-made ground, but it was comforting, nonetheless. The space was accommodatingly large, with an open roof and view of the sky. Sunlight was trickling in through small gaps in the lush awning over her. Perhaps her link to the earth here was impossible, but this garden did have one more secret within it.

Certain now of her isolation, she spread her arms like a bird and closed her eyes. Dim, thin lines of blue darted across her skin as she tapped into the ley line trailing directly through the garden. As the site of the ancient, long dead grove, the castle had adopted some of its magical properties, which resulted in the link. It was a very small and unremarkable link, one that, ultimately, couldn’t provide enough spell power to warm up your breakfast tea- but it was still a ley line, and if one knew how to manipulate them, they could be used much like magical roadways. Up until now, she had been sparing about her magic usage. With the eve of her long-planned attack nearing, she found it rewarding to finally give herself a little wiggle room. It was critical that her contact received her message immediately.

She reached into the soil with her power, drawing a collection of fallen leaves and twigs into her hands. She filled it with her aura, and they took the shape of a little finch, its pieces held together in a soft blue glow. A soundless chirp escaped its rock beak, its elderberry eyes darting upward at her expectantly.

It is time,” she spoke, “Gather your forces and send an ambush to the northern pass at sundown. Do not waste this opportunity, Puppet Master.

It was an intentionally short message. The more information she filled her messenger with, the stronger the magic required, and she did not want to put strain the line. Besides, she trusted the sorcerer would know what to do with the information. The spectral, leafy finch chirped her message back to her, mimicking her voice. Satisfied, she cast it into the ley line and instructed it to find Archibald. It dissolved into blue particles, and it was done. Cestaline gathered her gown and settled carefully onto the little bench in the middle of the garden. She could hear the real birds singing to one another in the trees, and the ever present buzz of an insect’s wings. It was so peaceful that it was hard to imagine that it was the centre of a brewing war. A one-sided war, it was looking like. The general may have been on his toes, but he was not prepared for what was to come. A shiver of anticipation touched her and she revelled in her soon-to-come victory. At long last, she would be the one to succeed in this task where all before her had failed. There was little else to do now but wait.

It was a beautiful morning.


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 9:14 pm 

The Blood Trials have officially begun.

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King Allistair


Allistair nodded at Bren's suggestion about Harold. Harold would probably know before Aurion would. He studied that sort of thing and he had a few years on the Djinni when it came down to magic in and around the kingdom unless he was mistaken. Besides, he didn't want to disturb whatever work Aurion was busy doing at the moment. He also wanted to hear from his two archivists. They'd both been absent from his presence this morning. They usually joined him for breakfast.

"Let's find him and Earl. Have you seen either of them this morning? They were absent from breakfast. I worry something may be wrong with them." he asked Bren.

Allistair made his way over to the post where he'd removed his shirt earlier and put it back on. He rebuttoned it quickly and looked over his shoulder to see if Bren would join him in the quest for finding Harold and Earl or if he was on his own.

Harold the Archivist


Harold was shocked to find just Aurion and Cestaline at the table for breakfast. Where had Bren and Allistair gone? He stepped into the room beside of his son for support, and he wasn't all too shocked to pick up on some nerves from Earl. He'd always been nervous around the queen, but after the suspicion that she may very well be the link between this sinister presence that he'd been feeling for so many years and the king's wife, he couldn't blame him. Harold wasn't one to get frightened or nervous easily. Especially when dealing with the royal family much like Earl did. Harold had always been one to face them head on. And while he never had to take a blunt approach with Allistair, he'd had to with Cestaline a few times over the years.

Before Harold had a chance to address the issue they'd came here for, Cestaline was quick to inform them that Bren and Allistair had gone off somewhere and would be busy until further notice which left them to play a game of find the needle in the haystack until they found the duo. As quick as she was to stand and start making for the door, it put Harold on edge, and his entire demeanor changed into a defensive one. Anyone who knew him well, especially Earl would be able to pick up on the change, as he did what he would often do to him when he was younger and he began to do the talking instead so as to make sure that Earl was out of harms way should he say something wrong, and in some way to offer some sort of a protective position over the boy.

Harold begun to open his mouth and speak again when she cut him off again at the doorway with his name. He answered, "Yes M'lady?" He asked her as he and Earl both turned to look at her. After the order about maps, he made a mental note to get them together, but it was unusual for Cestaline to give him orders in the first place, much less orders for Bren. She'd been known to send messages for Allistair at times, but never had she spoke for Bren before.

It was then he'd had enough. He wanted answers. As she left the door, he called after. "Lady Cestaline, I would like to talk to-" He crossed the room as quickly as he could manage with his stiff back and opened the doors to find her gone. He finished his sentence with a heavy sigh worked into his words. "You..."

He turned back towards Earl and the archmage only to find that Aurion was no longer at the table. Harold's brows knit. "Now where did he go off to?" He paused. "Perhaps he busied himself with something. It isn't unlike Aurion to just dismiss himself for solitude. Shoot. And here I thought we'd get some answers."

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Tue Dec 01, 2015 2:12 am 
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Earl Seaward, the Archivist Assistant


It was always overwhelming for young Earl to be in the presence of Queen Cestaline who was his senior by several years, both her beauty and strong demeanor made the youth falter when around her. He always had to brace himself before speaking with her but it was even worse thinking that she was perhaps working against the kingdom she had been living in the last few years. Of course he always admired the Queen's irresistible beauty, though never once thinking anything beyond that, knowing his place among the world. When King Allistair first introduced her to the court, Earl, still very young, could not help but be transfixed by this woman, likely a similar fixation giving reason for the king to have pursued her to begin with. Yet, there has been another feeling that the archivist assistant would feel about her, the same feeling he has right now. He could not describe what that feeling was other than uneasy, just something about her seemed off but he could not understand what. It had not been a sinister feeling as he was sure that this woman was of pure intentions just perhaps something hidden away.

He caught himself from his wandering mind as the Queen responded to his introduction, picking up on the slight irritation in her words though he was not sure whether that irritation was for the absence of the king or the presence of him and Harold. Her voice, which was as melodious as a grand fanfare, caught Earl's ears who was trying his best to analyze her tone to try and catch any hint of mischievousness though was failing miserably as, just the same as her beauty, it was too endearing for the young man to get beyond so he was relieved when the woman made her exit.

However, he could see the frustration growing on Harold as the Queen seemed to be too busy for the pair, stopping herself only to issue an order for maps before leaving through the doors, a sigh of relief coming out of him when Harold was unable to catch her while at the same time worrying about Harold's frustrated state before being surprised at the disappearance of the archmage from the room. His eyes had been locked on the Queen and did not catch when the Djini had left, nor did he have any clue as to where he could have gone.

"Great," he said with frustration starting to show in his own voice from all that had been building up in the room, "now we have a game of hide and seek on our hands." Bringing himself over to help Harold keep his balance, he thinks about what the two of them should do. "Do you think we should try to seek them out?"


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Sun Dec 06, 2015 2:07 am 
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Once the mage had arrived in his chambers Damien looked at him and spoke, “Yes I’m glad you came to meet with me I have some things to discuss with you. First, however, it is time for lunch.” With that Damien began to eat his lunch of beef roast and stewed carrots. Once he had finished he stood and moved to the window and looked out over the training fields. “I sense a plot against me Archibald.” he said, “Someone intends to attempt to overthrow me.” He turned to face the mage to judge his reaction. “I find the generals nervousness odd. Don’t you? Most of the castle staff behaves normally. Mind you some tend to have a twitch as I have noticed their head jerks to look behind them a lot, and you certainly aren’t nervous of anything. So why is he?” he sat back at his desk and brought out a large scroll from his drawer. “This is everything the general has done in recent time,” he said handing the scroll to Archibald, “everything from acting without orders to being later, something everyone knows not to do. Tell me do you see anything there that you think is odd?”
The king stood and went over to a hidden safe in the wall and took out a parchment that bore his royal seal. He walked over and stood in front of Archibald and spoke, “This is a list of information I need from the queen but I have no way of contacting her without arising suspicion of our plans to take over the kingdom. I was hoping that you would have a way of discreetly contacting her and retrieving the information from her.” He sat back down behind his desk and waited for an answer.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
View Likes PostPosted: Sun Dec 06, 2015 10:23 pm 
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A small crowd was gathered at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. Some seemed curious and excited while others were merely suspicious. At the forefront, Eustella sat, a few crates serving as a makeshift table and chairs. Her hood was up, the only thing one could see of her face was the smug smirk she wore. In her thin, unnaturally long and jointed hands, a set of cards, across from her, a naive volunteer. Squinting at the cards she held before him, backs turned to her, he gingerly picked one.

"Hmm..." She paused, letting the tension fester. "O' what could it be? Perhaps... perhaps an eight of diamonds?" The man groaned, as did the watching crowds, though Eustella could have sworn she saw gold exchange hands behind him. Begrudgingly, he rolled a coin to her which she didn't hesitate to snatch up, dropping it into a bag already jingling with wealth.

"Good game," she remarked cheerily, waving as he pushed his way through the crowd. "I should like to play again, anyone?" Another fool shuffled forward. She couldn't help but envision a pawn on a chessboard, quick to sacrifice. She'd been here all morning and these people were idiots. No one even noticed that she'd enchanted the cards. Well, dullards and imbeciles they might be, they still served their function as income.

After a few more wins, the crowd seemed to grow bored and dispersed. Eustella didn't care, her pockets were jingling after all. A few more days and she'd be heading off somewhere else, anywhere really, did it matter? No. Not to her. Just keep moving, the philosophy she had adapted through the years. It worked wonders, no attachments and the practice dealing with tossed insults and crude racial remarks.

Gathering her cards, she was just about to depart when a particular loud voice caught her attention. The man from earlier was yelling to a trio of palace guards behind him, pointing at her. He held one of her cards in his hand. She cursed, breaking into a run, only to smack directly into the front of another guard who grabbed her roughly by the arm. Partially on instinct and partially out of frustration, she twisted and punched him squarely in the face. Instead of his grip loosening, it tightened.

"It was her," the man spat (literally, he spat at her feet), waving the blank playing card in her face tauntingly. Eustella resisted the sudden urge to commit a far worse crime. The guard ripped her hood back, revealing pointed ears, blood colored hair and her face in full. Her eyes had gone from normal to dilated, the pupils were eerily snake-like. It was the only sign now of her anger, her face was emotionless as stone. She remained still as the guard holding her arm grabbed a portion of her cloak, producing the bag of coins and handing it to the man. She grit her teeth. He didn't notice or care, happy to be off with all her money. Hey! Not even all of it was obtained through less than legal means. Just most of it... And now she was being carted off by them like an object. Not something she appreciated. The guardsman had yet to release her from his vice-like grip.

"Will it be the stocks for this one?" The guard asked the other. She bit back a groan, it wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last that she had to endure the humiliation.

"Nah," he said, "A day or two in a cell ought to cool this elf off." Her blood froze. Nope, nope, nope! Please no, i'd rather have the stocks for a week, she rambled internally. If she wasn't trying to ignore the situation, she'd be screaming obscenities at them no doubt.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Mon Dec 07, 2015 11:24 pm 
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Archibald the Puppet Master


It was with an admirable affection that the dark archmage looked upon the young king as he ate the spread that was before him, knowing that once his highness finished the meal that he would quickly get to the matter at hand for which the two of them were meeting. The king was not one to make with small talk and got straight to the point, a trait that Archibald liked in him that many others lacked, usually resulting in their untimely death due to annoyance as the court wizard himself was not one for small talk as well. This gave him a patient demeanor as he waited for the king to finish his meal, choosing to opt out of lunch himself as lack of eating is part of maintaining his power of the undead as well as other magics. When he does eat, which is rare, he only eats of the finest breads, meats, vegetables, etc., eating only enough to sustain himself physically but not too much to muck up the flow of his energy and anything less than the most exquisite of meals would a hindrance to him. This makes living among royalty most advantageous for him, as can be expected.

Besides, it was not lunch with the king that he was brought here for, that was for certain and confirmed as such when Damien began to speak about a plot being formed against him. The brow on the darkmage's head furled as he listens closely to the words that were spoken. Someone is plotting against the king, he thought to himself as the expression on his face showed of genuinely being appalled by such a thing. Of course, it was not that the wizard was concerned for the life of his king. He was bothered by the idea that someone other than him was planning to take the power. This could also mean that whoever it was, if these allegations are found to be true, may attempt to overthrow the archmage as well, something Archibald will not tolerate. Who could it be, he wondered as he thought on who would dare plot such a thing.

It hit like a jolt by lightning, the shock of the accusation of this plot being carried out by the good general. He would have thought the very idea inconceivable on the part of Francis. Sure the general was not far from treated with respect by the king, but was that truly enough for him to plot something like overthrowing the throne? Was he looking for something else? Power? No, Francis was a good general, in the sense of his ability to command vast numbers of living souls, and certainly seemed to be content with that. At least, that's what Archibald thought before being handed the scroll with the logged events of the accused. With great care he read through the document, noting the many times that the general had indeed either been late or completely missed meetings, gave orders to his troops without first getting permission from the king, even so much as to disobey direct orders at times in favor of his own.

Though, of all the discrepensies, the one that stood out the most was one that happened several months earlier. Francis had been spotted by one of the castle guards leaving the grounds to enter the town, during a time when it had been commanded that all high ranking personnel stay within the walls as the king and archmage were concerned that a spy was among them. They had, of course, discovered the suspect and dealt with him swiftly but that was long after the general had left the castle grounds to return several hours later. Unfortunately for Francis, the guard that spotted him was not of his loyal members and ended up following the general to a questionable location where a mysterious figure was met and talked to before heading back. The guard then reported the incident to one of the king's royal record officers, who was then executed for disobeying the command to not leave the castle walls, though not before the incident was properly recorded and varified through magical means. The memory of the then dead guard was itself recorded, through magical means, on the very document that Archibald now held in his hard gripped hands.

The archmage could not but help feel anger swelling up inside him as his magical mind read the memory, seeing the image of the general meeting with the very man who was found to be the spy. "Why was this not brought to my attention earlier?" Archibald spoke with a stern and cold voice, fighting hard to keep his anger from this revelation seeping out with his words. He was quite intolerant of anyone who looks to get in the way of his yearning for power and the general was now branded in his mind as an enemy that must be dealt with right away. Sure, he thought to himself, trying to keep himself rational about the situation, it could always be a coincidence, but not one that I can afford to grow into anything else if I wish to one day hold the reigns of my own kingdom.

Before the mage could speak any more on the issue, a familiar voice broke through his thoughts, delivering the message that both he and the king were waiting for. Cestaline, the druidic queen that had been sent to the kingdom of Scarborough three years earlier to attempt to infiltrate and keep account of the enemy, was now announcing herself to him. The sound of the woman's voice made the hair on his neck stand as he could not tolerate the wench, having had a special place in his heart that he held against her, knowing that the queen was a powerful user of magic as well as King Damien's love, thus making her a great obstacle in his path to power. He would love nothing more than to bring the enchantress under his control but for now dealt with her as he did with the king.

"I understand, your majesty," he mentally replied back to the queen at the completed delivery of her message, "but I do not know if that can be accomplished so soon. There is something that must be dealt with here first. Would you be able to stall for some more time? The troops aren't nearly ready and this needs to be done with great precision."


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 9:16 pm 

The Blood Trials have officially begun.

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King Allistair


Once Allistair had fixed his shirt and felt satisfied in the way that it looked, he turned to go back into the castle. Instead of electing to go inside and back through the winding halls of the palace, he decided to take a short cut around front to go in and then shoot down the hall to the dining room. He also had figured if he looked around out here, he might be able to see any obscurities in the way his castle usually looked, or in the demeanor of his guardsmen.

What he didn't expect to find was a woman being hauled in through the front gate by a couple of angry looking guards. He had to pause. This day just got weirder and weirder. The woman looked harmless, but he knew with the usage of magic in his kingdom, looks could be deceiving. However, he'd been trained to sense magics about a person, and this woman's aura didn't necessarily hold a hostile or malicious feel about it. His curiosity got the better of him. He turned to Bren.

"You go on and find Harold and Earl. Ask why they weren't at breakfast and see that all is well with them as well as addressing the issue at hand." he ordered as he turned back to look at the girl, "I'm going to handle whatever is going on here."

Giving Bren ample time to walk away, he crossed over to the guards and the lady.

"What in blue blazes is going on here?"
He demanded crossing his arms.

@Aria @Kiddo

Harold the Archivist


Harold felt Earl's hands on him, and he allowed it. He knew the boy worried for his well being and as bad as he hated to admit the fact, he was no spring chicken anymore. He offered his son a soft smile at his worry to try to abate his worry. He reached up with one of his hands and patted the top of his son's before answering.

"Royals live a busy life. I suppose it's no surprise it's become a game of hide and seek. Though it is strange...Aurion doesn't just disappear like that. He must be up to something upstairs in his office. I certainly hope nothing is afoot. As for our dear king and Bren, yes, we should seek them out. It is important that we try to get this information to them as soon as possible."

Harold was puzzled about what Aurion was up to. It really didn't settle correctly with his nerves for him to just disappear, but he didn't want to worry Earl and make him panic more than he already was.

"Where should we begin looking?"


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Wed Dec 16, 2015 12:24 am 
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Upon learning that she was to be placed in a cell, Eustella put up as much of a fight and she could. She'd been in one once and it nearly drove her mad; twas not an experience she'd like to repeat.

Through the ridiculously ornate gateway they went, dragging her along. The guards came to a sudden halt, jarring her slightly. What were they stopping for exactly?

Sire," the guard intoned, respectfully to the approaching man, still gripping the struggling girl painfully tight. Eustella glanced at the 'sire.' So this was the king? Not very kingly in her humble ( i.e worthless) opinion. When she pictured a king, she saw a fat, old and decript man reclining on throne of gold, draped in finery and dripping with jewels. This was more akin to how someone might envision a knight, lean but well muscled and yet awfully young.

"This elfling was caught using magical means to steal from the citizenry. She's being given a cell for a day and a night as punishment."

"I wasn't stealing anything!" she snarled at the soldier. He responded by grabbing her other arm, pinning them both behind her back. The other confisticated the blank cards, holding them up. They seemed to waver slightly in the sunlight. She sent him a venemous glare, then turned her glare on the king. Her eyes had yet to revert to normal, leaving them reptilian and strange. She'd donned the stony, emotionless mask once again. In a flat tone, she said, "I suppose I deserve it. After all, what's the point in having a livelihood?" The sarcasm, she hoped, was quite clear.

@Lewi


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 12:45 am 

The Blood Trials have officially begun.

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King Allistair


Allistair listened to the banter between the guard and the elf as well as observed the shimmering cards that had obviously been enchanted. He knew his guards wouldn't lie. They were very well trained men, and he trusted them with his life, but surely whatever this woman wasn't too serious of a crime for her to be thrown into a cell. Those were usually reserved for the more hardened criminals of Scarborough, but rather than lock her away just yet, Allistair felt the need to try to see what exactly it was that she was claiming as her story just to be fair and to see if there was a way to assist both parties without the need of locking her away.

Answering her question, even though it was obviously rhetorical, Allistair spoke, "Well, there's no point in having a livelihood that involves illegal means of work."

With that he started into the castle motioning the guards holding her to follow him. Once he went inside, he led them to an interrogation room and he sat in one of the two chairs. After the guards stepped in and closed the door behind them, they released her. Then he motioned to a chair in front of him.

"Have a seat."

His guards stood ready at the door so that should she try to escape out the only exit, they could grab her. Inside of this room, there was a heavy spell cast, one from Aurion, and it was bare with only the chairs. The spell prevented any use of magic while inside.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Thu Dec 24, 2015 2:21 pm 

My time isn't something to waste. My caring isn't something to let pass. Be greatful for what you have. It maybe what you get.

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Gabriel/Scarborough Castle
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Gabriel had been bored of his normal day to day life. The people he normally messed with was getting tiring. At the same time, tired of practicing his magic. He had lived on the edge the city. Because living in the city, was to much for him. Let alone it didn't let him practice his magic. His energy magic could hurt someone if he wasn't careful. But he was alright with living on the edge. He didn't care to much for the city. To much stress for him. He didn't allow himself to be bored. After finding his brother wasn't home. He decided to make his way to the castle. He knew his brother was working for the young king. His brother was fun to mess with. Ever since Gabriel and Harold was kids. Gabriel had found himself roaming into the castle to find his brother. He could sence he was close. He grew up as to know where his brother was. Gabriel had been picked on as a child. So he had always ran to find his older brother. Once Gabriel saw his brother. He came up from behind. Wrapping his arm around his brother. "Brother! Its been so long. Why don't you ever come visit me?" Gabriel pouted. But he knew why he had never visited. Harold wad busy. He saw a young man stand near. "Well who's this? Is this the child you spoke of old man." Gabriel looked over the boy talking to his brother.


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Mon Jan 04, 2016 7:44 pm 
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Eustella clutched the arms of her seat tightly, nails digging in. The interrogation seemed unnecessary to her, why couldn't they just punish her and be done with it? Instead she was in the castle, talking to the king.

From the minute she entered the barren room, she could feel the magic coating the area like syrup, effectively keeping her from doing anything she might regret. Of course, her first instinct in most situations was either to feign calmness or provide plenty of rude remarks. Neither seemed like they would help her at the moment.

"Rather accommodating, isn't it?" she commented, cooly. "I ne'er thought a king would bring about justice on his own. Aren't there advisers and protocols for these sort of scenarios?" The thought of someone standing behind the king, whispering what to say into his hear and mothering him came to mind; she smirked involuntarily.

"Would you ask me whatever questions you have now? I'll be sure to confess all my sins." She pouted almost mockingly.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
View Likes PostPosted: Mon Jan 04, 2016 8:15 pm 

The Blood Trials have officially begun.

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King Allistair


Allistair smirked. "I will have you know, the only advisers I have are my general, my archmage, and my archivist. Small circle. Leads to less leaks m'lady." He leaned back in his own chair and crossed his legs to make himself comfortable. Allistair wasn't like most kings in the sense that he preferred to handle business himself if at all possible. This left him busy and stretched sometimes, but he'd found it to be the most rewarding route. He had loyal subjects, happy subjects, and most importantly, a smoothly run kingdom in which he knew everything that was happening. Or so he thought.

"I don't wish for a confession of sins. I have no doubt of what you did. To deny it now would simply be foolish." He said while resting his head on his left hand. "I wish to know why so that I may decide how to handle this situation." He didn't like to see people struggling to the point of having to make a living by illegal means, and he would try to help however he could, but he also didn't spoon feed people who were brought before him. If he felt they needed help, he'd give it, but if they abused it, he wasn't as kind the second time around. His eyes tried to read her as he sat there. He was looking for any trace of fear or regret. Something that shouldn't be there. Whether he would find it or not was another story.

"Do you care to try again? I will be patient." He informed her.

@Aria

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Mon Jan 04, 2016 8:51 pm 
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His eyes seemed to burn holes through her, prying into her thoughts. She sighed, deflating almost in her chair.

"I travel. A lot actually. I've been around the neighboring kingdoms many times. Though this is my first time ever coming here. Since I don't have a place of residence, I only ever need money for food. I have few skills to speak of, most all of the existing worthless. So I play my games with the citizens, they pay me, I continue on somewhere new." Her hands moved to fiddle restlessly with the edge of her cloak.

"Before you ask, I have been arrested in the past. And thrown in the stocks. And one time tossed out a window into a moat." She gave a wry grin. "I won't argue if you decide to toss me in the dungeon a night. I'm only staying in this woe begotten place a few days more. Then i'm free as a bird." Eustella made flying motions with her hands.

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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Sun Jan 31, 2016 7:24 am 
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Earl Seaward, the Archivist Assistant


The young man gently lifts his hand from his fathers shoulder as he feels a hand placed upon his own head, listening to the wisdom Harold shared regarding the royal class. Though the assistant had only lived among the king and his council, Earl could testify that what was said to be true. It was a trait that the higher class seemed to universally share throughout various kindoms; they seemed to hold themselves distant during interactions with others, almost as if their positions of power do not allow them to get emotionally invested due to protecting themselves. When he was younger Earl had been confused by that sort of thing, it took him a while to understand the necessity for such a way of living. These days, he passes it off as nothing unusual. Except the current situation did not allow the young apprentice to just pass it off this time, the thought of some dark force hiding inside the kingdom having him on edge, even with the words of his father filling his mind. It was another truth that was spoken by Harold regarding the Archmage, a strange thing for him to just vanish without the formalities of announcing one's departure, even among the distant royals this was a strange thing.

The thought was interrupted with the inquiry of where to find the king, which caused the young man to map out the castle areas. It took him a few seconds to think about where King Allistair would be, thinking about the daily activites of his highness, and was almost certain he knew where to find him as well as the General. It was almost always immediately after a meal, especially breakfast, that a warrior tends to look to hone their skills, using the energy gifted from the food to get the most out of their training. This was something the young swordsman figured out early in his life, even before taking up the broadsword in his quest for revenge. Of course it was common sense but it took a warriors spirit to dedicate oneself to taking every chance possible to become a stronger fighter.

"Perhaps we can find our beloved King and General practicing their fighting skills," he confidently suggested to the Archivist just before the sound of an unfamiliar voice broke the tension that had been building up all morning.

Taken aback by the sudden, unexpected, interruption, the assistant had to turn around in order to take in the figure of a man he had never seen before, wondering where he could have come from and how he was allowed access into the castle. The wonder was washed away when he announced himself as the brother of Harold, who had spoken a few times of the man who has the reputation of captivating men and women.


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 Post subject: Re: Scarborough Fair
PostPosted: Tue Feb 02, 2016 11:58 pm 
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“Well I thought a man of your power should have been able to sense it just the same as I have.” Damien said. He walked over to the window again his anger was getting the best of him and keeping him from sitting still too long. “I’ll let you deal with the general however you see fit. You know what must be done.” Damien said turning around. He noticed the slightly glazed look in the man eyes that meant he was talking to someone in his head.
Once the wizard had fully come back to the here and now Damien spoke once again, “And what of the information I seek from the queen can you get it or not? I need to know if they are suspecting of us. I also need their military information. Can you get it?”

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