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18+ The Last Dragonborn

Discussion in 'Skyrim Roleplaying' started by Zelda, Feb 28, 2017.

  1. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    A shrug of the shoulder's was given to the Khajiit, the other bandits letting their guard down a smidgen. "I mean, I was kinda asking for your stuff, then I was going to go after the caravan with the Nord guy, but with that attitude I must give you some respect." Crossing her arms, the Redguard-Nord gave the woman a wink. "And thank you for the compliment. I try my best out here."

    Rayyia was rather playful when it came to things that shouldn't be. Death... murder... thievery... anything touchy. "You know what... I like you. Straightforward, careless of others... not bad, not bad. I can tell you are no innocent soul." Rayyia paused, tapping her index finger to her chin before placing her arms to be crossed once again. "Tell you what: me and my crew are going to rain the Nord guy's caravan... if you'd like to come, we can split the loot. I like having allies out here. Better yet, you don't need to be an ally: just not an enemy. What do you say, acquaintance?" The sly woman spoke, holding out her hand. She really had no ploy behind her intentions. Having less enemies meant more people to have that she knows is not an ally.

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  2. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Upon flipping through the pages, a gentle nudge came upon the warm and bundled up legs of the young woman. Looking down from her seat with her indigo eyes, the girl found her companion: a runt of a dog. Most of Skyrim's dogs were large and strong: hers never grew. It was the reason why it was left behind in the middle of no where. It became her beloved companion; and with it's small size and nonthreatening look, she named it Saber, after the saber tooth cat.

    "Hello there Saber! Hungry huh?" She spoke to her companion, its small tail waging from the attention. Flipping the page once more, she found herself stuck on a page: it was a chicken soup. It was boiled water mixed with salt, chicken, onions, tomatoes, herbs, carrots, leeks, garlic, and hints of dried powdered apple. It was a delicious meal, and in the mood for something with heat to warm her insides from her cold and wet exterior.

    Standing up, she began to prepare the meal, stirring boiling water as she gathered the food from the lower pantry. She cut the fresh chicken with ease, Saber constantly nudging her for a bite of something. "You'll have to be patient!" she remarked with a smile, tossing her friend a piece of cut carrot.

    Returning to the cooking pot, she added the ingredients in order, cooking them with elegance. She was a fantastic cook: with her talents in alchemy, it was no wonder she was so graceful in the kitchen. The scent of the warm soup filled the cottage, and most likely lingered out the fireplace and into the valley. With such a delicious scent, it was no wonder her pal was eager to eat her scraps!

    @Specter of Death
     
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  3. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    A small, somewhat forced smile was given back to the grateful white haired warrior, who offered the young man sincere gratitude for the gesture, which was rather surprising. In most bands he worked with, You'd be liable to find people at your throat for trying to horde loot, and questioning you rather than thanking you when offered, suspecting you may be try to cheat them out of something. It wasn't every group that this happened, but it was enough for the knight turned mercenary to be caught off guard by the appreciation.

    His gaze quickly fell upon their wounded charge, who stubbornly insisted they move on a bit further, despite her clear physical wounds, and possible mental ones as well. What she muttered under her breath didn't escape the Breton, and he knew the look of someone shocked and horrified by their actions and battle all to well. It wasn't a pretty thing when one sees the monster that lies within, and Ihylin just got a rather vivid look. They'd need to keep a close eye on her to ensure the girl wouldn't break down on them. Hmph, don't know why I'm bothering myself with that, she's paying me to get her there in one piece, physically not mentally.

    Yet the concern remained, and her pained wince only escalated that. "By the Divines woman, fine, we'll ride for another half hour, enough to get away from the corpses, but no further. Lady Valencia, stay with our fair employer if you would. Your healing touch will likely be of more use than me, good looks can only do so much." He quipped with a small smirk, confident it would at least get an eye roll or derisive laugh form the two, enough to distract Ihylin hopefully. Walking over to the back of the cart, Rolard hopped on, sitting against the opening, sword held comfortably over his lap. The ex-lord had a feeling this wouldn't be the only blood shed this journey.

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  4. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    A tired sigh was heard from the lady merchant. Gently shrugging off Valencia's hands, she hoisted herself into the cart with a grunt, settling down into the driver side seat and picking up the reins. Hearing the lord's comment, Ihylin huffed out a laugh. She'd deal with him later.

    "We ride until I see the rain. It may not be the full half hour, but enough to move us off the main road. Lady Ildrose... I know the tone in your voice, your concern is legitimate. My skills are far less advanced that yours. This being said, I'll allow you to heal whatever internal and remaining external injuries I may have when the camp is set up. This applies too if I happen to be..." Pausing, she eyed the clouds above them. Ihylin had been through plenty of bad storms in her lifetime, but this one was pushing into a dangerous category of severeness.

    "Indisposed." She finished. Traveling with two others proved this to be a more difficult trip due to accommodations. More used to bunkering up in her caravan, the merchant pieced together a makeshift shelter in her mind that would hopefully be large enough for the three of them. And a horse.

    The three of them back on the caravan, the mare continued down the road with a sprightly little trot. Leaning against the back wall with a pained, short exhale of breath, she closed her eyes, events weighing heavily on her mind.

    The world's gone to hell with the talk of dragons, bandits are raiding the roads for scraps like rabid dogs, the weather is not on our side today, and now I can't keep my head on straight around other people. Godssake, what's happened to me? I used to live a simple life, one that was easy, and da knew how to take care of us. But nooo, I had to have wanderlust for the world, I wanted to see all corners of Tamriel. At least neither of my company looks like they got hit in the face with a bag of rocks.

    Realizing what she was thinking, the merchant opened her eyes and twisted her face up in a grimace. It wasn't a lie, at least, but she had just met the both of them this morning, and already she squabbled with a big brute of a Breton that had a knack for taunting and jabbing her temper.

    No, no no no. No googly-eyes. Yes, he's got a decent face, but he's brutish and mean and... really, really familiar. Oh, by Talos, I've got a headache. I can't deal with this right now.

    --------

    The first drops of rain splattered on the merchant's face. Barely 15 minutes had passed since their departure, but the storm was not willing to wait any longer. Looking up, she pulled the reins gently to stop the cart and hopped down, calling at the other two to do the same. Despite being in a moderate amount of discomfort, Ihylin went to work, putting her mental blueprints together to form a suitable shelter.

    "Lord Seton, I suggest you hop off the back. I don't want you to get squished when I back this caravan up." Watching him step off the side, she guided the wagon in between two trees; it was a narrow space, giving little room for error. But she did it as if she had done so a thousand times before, the cart tucked away from the road far enough in that only prying eyes would see it. No time was wasted as she called on her hired help once again.

    "Lady Ildrose, under the cart, there are six small rugs on the undercarriage, would you grab those and place them in a ring around the back, here? Leave a space big enough for a small fire, so we won't freeze during this storm. Lord Seton, take these... Tie two corners of the tarp to those opposite trees, a bit taller than yourself? Let me secure this end to the cart, so the smoke will rise from that side. And the sidewalls here... no, like this. Steak that side into the ground, would you..?"

    . . .

    The shelter was done, and light rain had just begun to fall in a steady patter on the leather and stretched cloth of the caravan top. Semi-sturdy walls were doing well to hold off the howling wind that began to pick up, bits of draft being dealt with by simply pushing dirt into the holes. Even the mare had a small shelter of her own off to the side to protect her from harsh Skyrim weather.

    Settling onto a rug, Ihylin tossed spare firewood in the small pit that was made, busying herself by stuffing kindle under the wood and settling flint to steel to throw sparks against the wood.
     
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  5. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    An ignored grunt was offered up to the sky as the first drops of rain pattered against the arcane armor. They hadn't made much progress, but they were a bit further up from the trail of corpses they left behind. A bit... It wouldn't take much for a bear or pack of wolves to trail them, but none of that was something he couldn't handle. The difficult thing would be keeping his apparently bloodthirsty, auburn haired companion from charging off and trying to kill everything. As amusing as it was to witness, he'd rather not have her killed. Besides, seeing her reaction to the aftermath... She didn't need to experience that again.

    When he was prodded to hop off the cart, Rolard didn't put up a fight, knowing none of them would be up for an argument. So, he simply went about his work helping to set up the tent, following the merchants instructions, only throwing her a cocked eyebrow or eyeroll every now and then, as if to say, I know how to set up a bloody tent woman! Still, the deed was done, and when they finished he found it was a rather well made tent. As long as the Divine's didn't pour out their wrath through this storm, they would likely be fine.

    As the winds began to howl through the forest and the rain began pelting him, the Breton entered the tent, letting out a content sigh as he escaped the elements. Walking over to his mat, which he decided would be the one closest to the entrance, Rolard began the process of removing his equipment. Starting with his weapons, he set them next to his rug and then began to remove his armor, starting with his gauntlets, then boots, and finally his chest piece and legs, leaving him only some ragged cloth pants and a sleeveless linen shirt, his powerful physique much more obvious with the layers of steel covering him. Sitting down close to the still unlit fire, Rolard closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth, before a dull pain in his left arm reminded him of his earlier wound. Glancing over, there was an evident gash in his left arm, while not deep, still needed to be treated. Letting out an tired sigh, he reached into his pack, pulling out a flask of whiskey, a needle and stitches. Taking the whiskey, the grizzled warrior didn't even flinch as he let the alcohol wash over the open wound, ensuring it was fully sterilized before grabbing the needle and stitches, seamlessly closing the wound with practiced ease, a clear sign that this was far from the first time he had done this. It wasn't long until his wound was sealed, and while not pretty, it got the job done, taking a spare piece of cloth, he wrapped it around his wound. Even after this though, the fire remained unlit, and he needed to be warmed up, and he doubted any of his companions cared to share body heat. The thought almost made him laugh out loud.

    Looking over to Ihylin, he gave a softer smile than usual before leaning over the wood pile. "Mind if I lend a hand?" Extending his left hand, it quite suddenly became engulfed in blue flames, and the wood quickly caught. Rather than the usual, orange/yellow glow, it cast an ethereal blue glow through the tent. Despite the odd look, it was still quite warm, and the chill finally left him. "Ah, nothing like some magic flames to warm your bones."

    @Hart @Zelda
     
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  6. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    The knight was more than happy to leave the bloodied bodies behind, but was more than worried when her merchant was in dire need of healing. A smile formed on her face when the auburn-haired woman accepted the healing, which Valencia quickly got to work. As Ihylin led the caravan and Rolard sat quietly in the back, a warm light emanated from the knight's hands, only to guide itself to Ihylin's body. The light crackling of the healing spell was soon accompanied by the light patters of rain beginning to fall.

    It did not take long for the three to quickly raise a shelter for both themselves and Ihylin's trusted companion. Despite the knight's weak immune system, the woman continued to work in the rain until the shelter was complete. Entering the tent with the others, it was a relief to be out of the cold rain. She had endured much, and the winds and rain of the storm was little compared to others, but she certainly wanted to be out of the storm.

    To her, it was quite fascinating to watch Lord Seton light the middle fire with a bluish flame. Surprisingly, it eased her. The magic reminded her of home. She had to admit, the name seemed awfully familiar... Lord Seton... his fighting was well greater than the usual mercenaries, which only made her question his backstory even more so. A spellsword... could he perhaps...? She pushed the thought aside, bringing her focus back to the blue flame.

    She stripped herself of her own armor, placing it aside. The shiny royally-blessed armor was now beside her, the droplets of water reflecting the blue flame upon its regal surface. The etched designs were wet with crusted blood turned diluted by the rain water. Once she removed her armor, she looked more delicate underneath. Her clothing was just like her armor: regally designed. As the royally-appointed knight, it was necessary she looked her best: in and out of duty.

    Her shirt was a deep blue embroydered in gold-colored thread. Green and gold designs spread their ways through the sides and angled areas of her chest and upper body. Her pants were a navy blue, tight to her skin much like her shirt to keep from getting caught in armor. It too was embroydered in the green and gold threads, much like the deep blue shirt. Despite removing her armor, she still kept the soaked blue scarf around her neck, refusing to remove it.

    The scarf was the same deep but light shade of blue as her shirt. To most, it would seemingly be a mere thick scarf. To her, it was her most prized and beloved possession. She was the royally appointed knight to the prince of Wayrest, and when she saved his life, she was given many things. Armor, riches, glory... and a scarf, made by the man she protected. She loved him with her heart and mind, yet they never grew closer than the best of friends. While heartbroken by the advancement never to appear, she was greatful to have his love that was sibling-like, being such close friends. The scarf meant so much to her.

    The knight snapped from her revere, finding herself still staring at the blue flame. Certainly she had zoned out, which was completely unsafe. She situated herself, hoping that her lost gaze went unnoticed, before listening to the rain and wind outside, hoping not to find any unwanted noises. Finally, she took out a rag, and began to clean the armor that sat beside her.

    @Hart @Keidivh
     
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  7. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    Looking up from her attempts to light the fire, Ihylin flinched, watching the mercenary douse his wound in sterilizing whiskey and stitch it up himself. Her face turned a bit green under the bloodied powder she still wore, clearing her throat to distract herself from the burning feeling rising in her stomach, and she went to busying herself throwing sparks on the tinder.

    Yet it didn't seem to catch, and she gave a disgruntled sigh, leaning back against the steps of the caravan. The two of them had stripped out of their armor, Valencia looking stylish and very royal in her attire while Rolard kept with more traditional under-armor clothing that had seen better days. Ihylin did not make a move to remove the disgusting dress she had thrown over her own, well aware of the hole in the side that had to be stitched up and the bloodstains (both hers and the bandits) removed. Lord Seton's voice made her look up again.

    "Mind if I lend a hand?"

    "Ah, sure... If you don't mind. The fire isn't--" She paused, watching as brilliant blue flames engulfed the firewood greedily, casting its ghostly color through the tent. Farfetched memories tugged at the corner of her unconscious, her gaze moving to look at the lord. Something distant played in her thoughts, invoking a curious expression on her face.

    "Blue flames? That was neat, do it again!" Entertained, childish laughter rang out in the courtyard, the sun high in the sky on a fair day. To think magic of all things...

    Shaking her head slightly, the merchant refocused her attention. "Catching. But that certainly helps, thank you. Remind me, Lord Seton, where are you from? And you at well, Lady Ildrose. I think some more thorough introductions are in place, seeing as how we have the time," Gesturing toward the sound of rain falling outside, she looked at each of them with a half smile. "But I suppose I should get lunch started. Stew, anyone?"

    Figuring neither of them wanted to share their stories first, Ihylin chatted while she worked, never seeming to keep still as the day went on. In and out of the caravan back she went, pulling vegetables and meat from an icebox in the corner, cooking supplies from a shelves, waterskins from gods knows where in those tiny compartments of hers, and rags to clean up, seeing as how it was likely none of them wanted to stand in the storm to get battle stink off. Setting up two pots over the fire, ingredients and water were dumped in one of them, along with frost mirriam and elves ear. Plain water was set in the other pot to heat, its use unknown for now. Settling down on her chosen rug by the steps, the merchant wet a rag and rung it out, passing additional rags and a bowl of water to the two warriors at her side to clean off.

    "I started by training when I was young, maybe five or six? Begged my da to show me his work, I was always fascinated by his forge and how well he worked it, secrets of generations passed down again and again to make the most beautiful of everything he did. Fine work he did, and was called all around Tamriel to craft in front of audiences. Though I thought it odd at the time, but I learned later from ma that this was for a reason. A good one at that. Folks seem to appreciate watching something come to life.

    "Because of this, I've been there and back again. Bruma, Stros M'Kai, Gideon, Wayrest, Riverhold, Falenesti, you name it, we were there at least once or twice a year. I grew up in the Imperial City, for the most part. I learned the ways of merchants and of speech, how to sell even the most odd of things in your stock, to make money again after a bad loss. Albeit, we traveled a lot. It was a bit hard to make friends when you aren't at home, you know? Ah, and look, here I am babbling on. I came to Skyrim after my da died to learn Nordic design, and I've been here since."


    She had begun to work the powder off her face, flaky bits of dried blood falling on the dark dress she wore. Half cleaned off, she looked up again in realization, and pulled something out of her satchel at her side. Holding it out to the fire, it was a small charm in the shape of a snarling wolf head. Despite the blue hues thrown by the campfire around the tint, it held the slightest blue glow against her palm.

    "This was one of the better pieces I made in my youth. I can't, for the life of me, remember why it glows, but it's done so for years. Suppose I just really like this little bauble, hm?"

    @Zelda @Keidivh
     
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    #87 Hart, Jul 23, 2017
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  8. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    "Catching. But that certainly helps, thank you. Remind me, Lord Seton, where are you from? And you at well, Lady Ildrose. I think some more thorough introductions are in place, seeing as how we have the time."

    Hearing this question, Rolard instinctively clenched his jaw, his azure eyes looking down to the fire to avert them from Ihylin's hazel ones. It wasn't necessarily that it was a secret who he was, or where he came from. While Wayrest didn't wish to bother spending the resources hunting down a suspected traiitor, they were quick to denounce him and ensure that the Holds of Skyrim knew who he was. There were few places where honor meant more than in Skyrim, save for perhaps High Rock itself, and the damage done to him through that was nearly as bad as if they did decide to just hunt him down themselves. It took months of bloody work to overcome his reputation as the Oathbreaker, and only recently did he start finding regular work due to the knowledge that he got even the most gruesome and bloody of jobs done. Even then, it was barely enough to get by. Having people not know what he was, even for so short a time was nice. Even if the merchant insisted on tormenting him, she didn't look at him with disgust. All good things come to an end though.

    Thankfully, the auburn haired Nordling had the courtesy to share her own story first, causing Rolard to let out relieved breath, glad to have the attention of himself for a moment. As the merchant prepared them some stew, the ex-noble simply sat back taking a long drink from the whiskey he used to sterilize his wound. Glancing over to Valencia who had just finished removing her own armor, he took a moment to look over the finely made clothing she wore beneath her exquisitely crafted plate. Elegant, of fine make, clear indicators of someone from the upper crust of society, only confounding him further as to who she was. Some noble lass looking for thrills? She seemed to kind for that, genuinely concerned of the well-being of others. Quite a mystery you are Lady Valencia.

    As Ihylin listed off the many cities she traveled to, the Breton had to admit it was an impressive list. All of them cities of great import, including Wayrest, the shining Jewel of High Rock itself.

    "You are well travelled for a lass your age, though I suppose such is the life of a merchant eh? Must have seen some exquisite sights. I'll never forget my first visit to the Imperial City, my family and I were invited to attend a ceremony along with..."

    The words died on Rolard's lip when Ihylin pulled out a small silver trinket, shaped in the form of a snarling wolf, a poorly crafted enchantment laid upon it to give it the faintest of blue glows, casting a small, gentle warmth. One of the first enchantments he had ever designed...

    Racing through the town below the grand castle of Akaire, the young heir made his way to the outer gates as quickly as his feet could carry him. It had taken him the entire night, and a few small fires and burns, but he had done it. The enchantments were done, but the silversmith and his family were likely already off on their way. "Mi'lord shouldn't you be attending-" Was all the startled guard could get out before the young lord was out of the gates, racing towards the departing caravan. "Wait! Stop the bloody cart damnit!" He called out, and thankfully the cart complied. A young girl with flowing auburn hair hopped off the cart, giving the young Breton an amused if irritated smile. "Well about time Rol! I thought we'd be halfway to Skyrim by the time you finished up." Rolling his eyes, Rolard strode up to his brief friend, holding out the trinket for her, a soft bluish glow cast from it. "Shush you! It's not easy trying to make a piece of metal glow." Ihylin just laughed as she grabbed a hold of her newly enchanted trinket she had forged. "Oooh, it's so pretty! Thanks Rol, I'll always keep it with me! I... I'll miss you."

    "Oh come now, don't get all soft on me. Stay safe, you hear me. Remember what I taught you?"

    ".... Stick em with the pointy end?"

    Rolard's face contorted into a look of irritation befoer being overcome by laughter. "Tch, I am going to miss you Silly Ihly."

    "Ihly..." The disgraced knight muttered beneath his breath, gaze still fixed on the trinket. Shaking his head and realizing silence descended on the tent once more, it seemed it was time for Rolard to share some of his past. "Heh, well I suspect you know more of where I came from than you might think Ihly." Reaching into his travel bag, he pulled out a nearly identical trinket, the same soft glow emanating from it. "I hail from the duchy of Akaire, son of the late Matthias Seton, Warden of the West. Do you remember him?" He inquired towards Ihylin before going on.

    "Well, you probably haven't heard of what I've been up to since then. Joined the Knights of the Flame, a prestigious order located in the northern reaches of Wayrest. Went on many a campaign to root out bandits, secessionists, and the bloody Orc Raiders. Those were some... Bloody campaigns, to say the least. But we kept our kingdom safe, and sister kingdoms as well, as was our sacred duty. But... I had to leave. And, well, here I am."

    Keeping his eyes locked on his on wolfish trinket. Rolard had left out a few bits of key information, but he just didn't have the will to speak it now. Though if Valencia was who he began to suspect her to be, then she'd likely piece things together, and recognize the Oathbreaker sitting beside her.

    @Zelda @Hart
     
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  9. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Upon hearing the merchant's request for backstories, Valencia too was as curious as she. She herself wasn't one to boast about her successes and rank, as she found praise embarrassing. Besides that, she was still reluctant to accept the reason why she continued to stay in Skyrim... The sound of the merchant's voice brought her back, Valencia mentally cursing herself for her mind to wander again. Goodness... what is wrong with me? The lunch Ihylin prepared seemed hearty at just the beginning, and the white-haired youthful woman was quite pleased that she would make it.

    "Thank you love," the woman stated with a sweet smile, taking the rag and bowl of water. As she sat her own personal rag aside for her armor, she began to wash off her face and listen to Ihylin's story. She had always loved baths, and it relaxed her more often than not to a drowsy state. However, it was only the time of lunch, and she was still very awake. With soothing rags and soothing words, it was a nice time to relax with the electric storm around them.

    Valencia smiled the entire time, nodding her head kindly as the auburn-haired woman spoke. She was genuinely interested in her backstory, and found it quite fascinating. "My... so many wonderful places you traveled. That sounds exciting! And you must be talented in your craft love... perhaps I will ask of you to make me a necklace or ring sometime." Her voice was gentle as she spoke, but her gaze caught a beautiful glow of a wolfish trinket. It was quite mesmerizing, but for some odd reason, it hit Rolard like a crazed horse.

    He pulled out the same trinket of his own, making Valencia's jaw drop ever so slightly. The two knew each other from the past!? What a small world! As he began to speak however, the gears inside the woman's mind began to whir. Akaire... Knights of the Flame... Seton... It hit her too just as hard as the trinket.

    Quickly she stood, grabbing her sword and shield as she pointed her blade towards him. "Oathbreaker!" She shouted, her gentle look now completely gone, filled with seriousness and a feeling of betrayal. "You... you betrayer! You made a deal with Evermore to overthrow... and by the Gods I was happy they spoke of it to be untrue... but the new ruler... he spoke awfully of you and what you did... how you framed Evermore for your own selfishness." Valencia had always been protective of her homeland and its neighbors. "As the royally appointed knight of the rose for Prince Rodeyval of Wayrest, I order you to give me one reason why I should not end your life here and now for treason." Her voice was, for once, demanding and serious, her looks far more intimidating than prior. It was as if she were a completely different person.
     
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  10. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    The result of him giving further information on himself was, well, predictable to say the least. Part of him had suspected for some time that Valencia was associated with the nobility of High Rock in some fashion. What he hadn't expected was for her to be a bleeding Knight of the Rose, sworn to none other than Prince Rodeyval... His prince. If there was an ounce of mirth left in him, the Breton would have laughed at his own stupidity for not recognizing her sooner. There was nary a soul in Wayrest who hadn't heard of Valencia the Brave, savior of their prince, most honorable of all knights. He himself was an admirer, impressed by her loyalty and skill. Though there was no small amount of envy, as the Knights of the Flames exploits were not often the talk of the people. Theirs was bloody work, more gruesome than glorious. Such was their role.

    Even as he heard the rasp of the masterfully crafted blade as it was released from its sheath, the exile didn't move a muscle, instead simply staring at the the small wolven trinket that was still in his hand, trying to find some semblance of comfort in old, distant memories. But that word... It cleaved through him like a Daedric battleaxe. Many had called him Oathbreaker since his flight from Akaire, and it was something he took in stride. Hearing it from her however, someone he had respect for. Someone who seemed truly honorable. That cut deep, and for a few moments Rolards stoic, gruff demeanor slipped away revealing a glimpse of a sorrowful, shattered man. Only for a few moments. Then the front was put back up, a hardened expression coming across Rolard's weathered face.

    "Oathbreaker. Traitor. Man without honor. Most address me by those titles rather than by my own name these days." A mirthless laugh came from him as he slowly pushed himself up from his feet. "It's humorous really, these oaths that we are sworn to uphold. Protect your King. Obey your King. Honor your family. Revere the Divines. Defend the weak. Obey the laws. It's all to much. No matter what you do, you're forsaking one vow or another." Turning to Val, the large Breton walked towards her until the tip of her blade met his chest. "Tell me Lady Ildrose, if our good king ordered you to take your fathers head, to cut down your mother to prove your loyalty to the crown, would you have done it?" His voice was accusing as he asked the question, taking another step towards her, the blade biting into the flesh of his chest, crimson streaks beginning to form on his shirt. Azure eyes locked with Val's deep sapphire ones, rage sparkling in his eyes as he asked.

    "Would you have kept your precious oaths then?" His voice was little more than a hiss, demanding the knight to answer him, to tell him she would have done differently in his position.

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  11. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    "Ihly..." Rolard's murmuring voice made the traveling merchant's blood chill, her world coming to a spiraling halt. She had not heard her childhood nickname in years, and certainly was not expecting to hear it from a mercenary that she supposedly knew more of than she thought. But the memories did not come back to her, only the faintest clinging of feelings and words pulled at her mind.

    Seton? Heir of... Akaire? Why do I not...?

    Looking down at the snarling wolfhead in her head, Ihylin felt dumbfounded. He held a matching charm, one that she made, and it was as if a portion of her life was suddenly cut away from her, nonexistent in her mind. The blue flames, and the near identical glow on the charms did not help with the wispy, fleeting thoughts that raced in her mind. Yet Valencia's cry rang out in their small shelter, accusations of betrayal and the framing of a kingdom harsh in the air, causing thick tension. Looking to the mercenary with a stricken look on her face, she saw through his facade as he spoke.

    Seton was nothing more than a man, grieving for the loss of family, struggling to survive in a world where reputation spoke more highly than truth. The guard was put back up near instantly, and he stood to face Lady Ildrose, who stood tall with a purpose that she did not seem to fully understand. The hellish hatred that suddenly emanated from both parties caused her to stand as well.

    Oathbreaker...

    Watching the crimson blossom against the ex-knight's chest, Ihylin snapped herself out of her stupor. Two steps, and she was between two warriors ready to kill. Two steps, and she had gripped the gorgeously crafted blade of the Knight of the Rose, the blindingly sharp edges cutting into her palm. Two steps, and she had shoved Rolard backwards with her other hand, seeping blood running down her fingers. In these two steps, silent tears had begun to run down her face, making tracks through the chalky dust that remained. She exhaled slowly.

    "I remember you. I remember your name, I know who you are. I remember why I forgot you." She turned her head to the lady knight. "Answer him, Valencia. You think you know of the world, of the ones you protect. Don't you? Yet you don't know the other side of the story."
     
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  12. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Never did she falter as the traitor rose. The amount of distrust that flowed through the knight's veins was immense. She found herself a fool to not recognize the man who's face was plastered throughout High Rock. Of course, as the years passed, it was obvious he had become a shell of his former self. Valencia listened carefully as she spoke, her blade still fully directed towards the male, and her shield, ready to defend the kingdom she served.

    As the Breton placed his chest at the tip of her blade, she knew it was the moment. He was testing her, and it would take a mere push to penetrate the worn-down clothes he adorned, to pierce his very skin. The woman was one of honor, but also one of heart. She despised ending the lives of others, but she knew that war would bring peace.

    The crimson that seeped through his clothes and the tightness her blade felt indicated that his words as sharp as her sword. He meant what he said, and external pain meant nothing to him in comparison. Is he mad!? Before she could speak, contemplating on why he would ask such a question, Ihylin placed her innocent hand upon the blessed blade and shoved the betrayer back. The grip on her sword and shield tightened as the woman began to cry in front of her. Was it from the pain of the sword, or something else?

    "Remove your hand at once Lady Ihylin! You spoke of no interest in politics... I must ask you to step back!" Not once did she want to hurt the woman. What she couldn't see was why she was being so protective of the man who killed his own men and fled as a coward.

    As her sapphire eyes met with the azure ones, they locked. Such emotion was in his own... to kill his parents? Such a question... "... As the royally appointed knight, I vow to serve. My own parents would take the vow unintentionally... hence the reason why spoke with them before I accepted such a devoted task. I could never kill an innocent... I would never be told to kill another knight who served the kingdom for so long... and a medicinal alchemist of the war... but if for some miraculous reason I was ordered to execute my own family for the royal family.... I..."

    The vows were long and winded. Within every sentence, 'I, Lady Valencia Ildrose', was placed in somewhere. She knew of the vows. Read them all before the Prince told her. Discussed with her parents over them, deciding if it was truly worth it. In their eyes, the devotion was an honorable one, and their smiles were of pride. "Do you, Lady Ildrose, vow to follow my orders if my safety arises, whether stopping the life of a child or your family?" It was one of the toughest vows to accept. Many knights who had in other generations never heard of the vows prior, would immediately reject the undertaking. She loved her family, with her heart and soul. And never wished to hurt anyone who seemed so innocent. But her love for her kingdom, and the safety of her Prince, would forever be locked within her. "I, Lady Valencia Ildrose, vow to follow your orders if your safety arise, whether stopping the life of a child or my family."

    "I would end their lives." Her words were almost half-hearted sounding, but in truth, they were of honesty. As she took her vows that day, the trust she had in Rodeyval was of greatness. She hoped to never come across such a thing, and never believed it would occur in her lifetime. Her eyes averted away from the male's for a moment, staring into the fire he had created. "I am not sure if you are well-educated on the oaths we appointed knights take for the royals... but our life is devoted to serve. The task is no easy one... and my family knows the vows clearly." Her eyes raised to meet with his once more, a fire burning in her own eyes. "I live to serve. While I find your question ridiculous, I have answered it as I should. Lady Ihylin... please... remove your hand from my blade, love. Your blood is not to be spilled today."

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  13. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    Such was the focus of Rolard's gaze into Valencia, he hadn't noticed Ihlyin's approach until she was already between them, placing herself before the ornate blade, and trying to hold back the large Breton. Looking down at her hand, he could see his blood flowing like crimson stream over her hand. This wasn't what he had expected. She... She wasn't supposed to be in between them! Confusion remained in his eyes, even as her hazel ones met his, tears gently flowing from them. "I remember you. I remember your name, I know who you are. I remember why I forgot you." Upon hearing this, Rolard inwardly cursed himself for reminding her of their past. If he had just kept quiet, she would never have recognized him, have never interceded on his behalf and placed herself in harms way. This is your fault Oathbreaker.

    The white haired knight seemed to have little patience for his old friends interference, demanding she remove herself so 'justice' could be reaped. The two knights eyes locked once more as she seemed to think over his question, looking at him as if he had just declared his love for Sheogorath. Still, his gaze didn't waver for a moment as she stared him down, even as she gave him the answer he sought. So she would kill her parents, or at least, so she thought. But she didn't know, didn't truly know the horrific agony such a question put a man through when the choice had true consequences. The bitch even had the gall to call his question ridiculous, and the ethereal campfire flared as his anger did, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. Were it not for Ihylin between them, his reaction may have been more.... Severe.

    Instead, the answer elicited a dark chuckle from the accused betrayer. "Ah, it's so easy to form an answer to a question like that when you know there's no true meaning to your answer. When I was asked that question, I didn't have such a luxury." His words were filled with venom, biting back at the woman who dared called the question that brought his life crashing down in flames around him 'ridiculous'. "I remember my mentor telling me the news. Telling me I was expected to carry out the execution of my own parents. Divines how I pleaded with him to give them a chance, to defend themselves at the very least, to stand trial. But no, the proof was 'irrefutable'. And because of that, they were to die, and my loyalty would be proved through their blood. I refused, and instead wet my blade with the blood of my sworn brothers. That was the choice I had to make, and I can assure you, ridiculous doesn't even begin to describe the hell that question brought."

    Taking hold of Ihylin's arm, he gently tried to move her out of the way, if only to get her out of harms way. Standing between two angered knights was not good for ones continued existence, and he'd be damned if she were hurt on his account. "Please Ihly, this isn't your fight."

    Averting his attention back to the white knight of Wayrest, the Breton's expression softened for a moment. "Perhaps... Perhaps I am weak for my choice, but what is an oath to love of ones father, to the tender care of a mother... What is a vow to the embrace of your brother, or hearing your sisters sweet laughter." Closing his eyes, Rolard could practically see his last moments with them.

    "Stendarr's mercy Rolard, what are you doing here? By the Divines, your covered in blood!" The powerful voice of Lord Matthias Seton asked, dressed in the regal colors of House Seton, blue and grey, a silver circlet with three sapphire's embedded in it, and then there was Saphfire itself, sheathed on his hip in a sheath so intricately designed it put Rolard's very own sword to shame.

    "Father... I heard what's happening. We've been betrayed by that bastard Blaron! Ser Tyrael informed me I was to be your executioner."
    A sorrowful expression took over his face as he recalled the fearsome duel that occurred between the two, teacher and student reigning blows upon each other with such fury as to strike those around them in awe. How he bested such a masterful swordsman, Stendarr only knew. "I-I refused."

    His father's stern expression faded for a moment as he held his son, who began to weep as the weight of his actions came crashing down upon him. "I'm so sorry my boy... I know how much you idolized the man... None of this should have ever happened."

    Tears still streaming down his bloodied and bruised face, he stood back and looked at his aging father, his once dark hair now storm cloud grey. "Please... Just please tell me it isn't true."

    At this his father simply scoffed, "Of course not, don't be a fool. I gave everything I am to Wayrest and the Empire. I wouldn't betray them now, nor would I ever."

    "Then we must prepare to fight, if Lord Blaron thinks he can-"

    "We will not raise our swords against the Kings forces!" Lord Seton stated, an iron to his voice that told Rolard there would be no room for arguing. "I am ever loyal to my king, my dearest child. I will await his judgement, even if it is made from baseless lies."

    "So we are to just lay down and die then?" The once knight asked incredulously, unable to believe what his father was saying.

    A sorrowful expression overcame his father as he removed the Ember Crown from his head, handing it to his eldest child. "No my lad, not all of us."

    Fighting back the tears that gathered at the corners of his eyes, Rolard looked once more towards Valencia, "I am an Oathbreaker. I won't deny it, and never have. And I will pay for my crimes, but my family, my father committed no treason! We were betrayed by our own bannerman, Lord Blaron. The weasel managed to gather forged documents that damned my family, and stole my home while my parents corpses were still warm!" The ex-knight was practically yelling at this point, his rage only building as he recalled how horribly betrayed his family had been. But then, it was all just part of the Great Game that all nobles in High Rock had to play. His family had simply been on the losing end. He would see that rectified.

    Lowering his voice, it nonetheless had a steely edge to it. "I will pay for my crimes Lady Valencia, Stendarr will ensure that. But not before I have cleared my family's name. Not before the only family I have left in this world is safe."

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  14. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    Placing herself between them was the only sensible reaction she could think of. The merchant did not feel as if she were in danger, yet rather, acting as a wall between two forces that would have ended each other had she not been there. Her hearing faded away as the harshest memory came flooding back to her, leaving an empty, aching feeling in her chest.

    Her hands shook as she held the letter. The writing was sloppy and smudged, as if it has been hurriedly scrawled down on the parchment, shoved into a letter carrier and handed off to a courier while the ink was still wet. It had been some time since he had written her, and this... news was not exactly something she was expecting to receive. Ihylin's eyes kept looking to the last of the hurried letter, the words making her skin burn in frustrated anger and confusion.

    '--I am known as nothing but a traitor now. Don't expect to hear from me again, Ihyl. I don't want to see the pity in your eyes. They know me as Oathbreaker, and I don't want you to know me as that. Stendarr have mercy on you.

    --Rol'


    Heavy tears blotted the ink as they fell. He had been a friend to her, and although their time brief, they made the best of it. So this was it? She was expected to just... forget? Confusion turned to despair, and despair to anger. If this is what he wanted, so be it. Crumpling the letter up, she hurled it into the near by fire, seething as she watched it burn up. Realization struck her, and she reached into her satchel, drawing out the wolf head charm that glowed ever so slightly.

    She stared for a long time. Into the fire, with her arm cocked back, ready to throw combined efforts away into the flames to crack and toss away memories that meant so much to her. But she faltered. Every time the courage came to throw, something in the back of her mind stopped her from moving, holding her still and whispering 'Is this what you really want?'.

    The young merchant collapsed into a chair, letting the trinket fall from her hand and clatter away. Through hazy eyes, she glanced at the bottle of wine next to her, and snatched it up, pulling the cork to down the entire thing. Glass smashed on the ground as she strode to her kitchen stores, yanking the doors open and pulling every bottle of alcohol she could reach down.

    ----

    The temple priestess had found her, curled up behind a market stall, clutching the silver charm in her fingers with a vice grip. Ill for days after, the prodding questions of just why she had drunk herself into delirium were met with cloudy confusion and mumbled responses. Ihylin had forced herself to forget.


    Seton's grip on her arm snapped her out of her daze. Catching his wrist with her fingers, she held him there, her other hand tightening on the blade. Twisting her wrist ever so slightly, the belligerent expression on her face challenged Lady Ildrose to try and free her blade. No one was going to fight. Ihylin Sweetwater, a mere silversmith and merchant, stood as a wall between something she could not physically stop.

    She flinched when Rol raised his voice, but held fast in her stance. Fighting for words, the woman took a breath.

    "You are right. This isn't politics. Yet it's alright for his blood to pour today? And yet it's alright to end the life of your family, you say it as if you've done it a thousand times over? But what do I know. I'm just a commoner. She was shaking, if only slightly, but enough to cause the knight's blade to cut into her skin. "Listen to your countrymen before you listen to your king. You might learn something that you never thought you'd have to know."

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  15. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Remove your hand damnit! That was all she could think for a brief moment as Ihylin was reluctant to remove herself from between them. Moving her blade even slightly cloud result in injuries of pain to the auburn-haired woman. And his words... he acted as if she were some innocent child pretending they had a terrible life... as if she were blessed and graced by an easygoing lifestyle. Her fists around her equipment tightened, her jaw tightening as well If Ihylin wasn't between them, she would've slain the man already.

    However, as he began to speak, it was certain something was wrong. Something was not adding up. Executing his own parents? Was he lying, or the now 'rightful'-ruler? However, as he spoke, she listened. Between his lowered voice and nearly screaming one, she listened. She was a woman of honor, and would honor the man to state his side. Between the man trying to remove Ihylin from the situation, him stating his intentions, and his truth, the woman contemplated on what she should do with him.

    She could not prove his words were of the the truth. She was involved with the traitor situation and its understanding, but she knew it was not her place to bestow his death. And what if he was telling the truth? Or what if he lied, only to escape later? She had met those who told the truth, but acted as liars. And those who told lies, but acted honest. She knew of her facts she was given, and how long ago such a thing happened. But she was a woman of her word, and she had mercy when need be.

    And their words dug deep. His and Ihylin's. 'But what do I know. I'm just a commoner.' 'Ah, it's so easy to form an answer to a question like that when you know there's no true meaning to your answer. When I was asked that question, I didn't have such a luxury.' Many looked up to her, and others, looked up to her negatively. As if she were a spoiled ignorant brat.

    "Just think... that same woman lived in the castle with him like a princess. It's no wonder she's the appointed knight. What's in the castle stays in the castle. Corrupt as always." "Spoiled bitch I say. That 'I love everyone and care about everyone!' facade gets on my nerves..." "Exactly! The way she smiled at everyone during her ceremony, tsk. Just her thoughts of how she'll be handed everything the rest of her life." "She didn't even work for that. She was just handed it! And now all she has to do is follow him around for the rest of her life and swear allegiance and she's some kind of honorable person!"

    The white haired woman stood calmly where she was, around the corner. "It just pisses me off. I suppose she'll always be handed everything and never know of suffering?" "She said she understands us... bah! She's never lived our lives... to know true suffering... how could she have empathy for that?" "Exactly! She isn't fit to protect him. And her hair? Rumor has it she picks up sickness faster than a newborn... give him a disease? And it's all over!" "But as you said, it's all just a ruse." "Of course. She's merely a figure for people to look at." "What a shame. I was hoping something would change... but apparently the rich will always stay rich, am I right?"


    ...

    "I do not like this. I cannot do it." "Val... come on... it doesn't matter..." "It does!" The woman cried out, her eyes teeming with tears. "I could never do it... kill you both..." "It will never happen. And if it does, at least you are safe." "Don't say that!This is too much- I-" A tear rolled down her face as her mother walked over to her, placing a hand on her cheek to wipe away the droplet with her thumb. "Shh... you've worked your whole life for this. ." "Th-They don't know that... they believe I was handed such a thing. Maybe they're right... maybe I am not ready to do this... I get sick all the time... my emotions are, everywhere, at times.... he needs someone stronger-"

    "Now stop it Valencia! Enough is enough. You are more than capable to serve and protect him. He would never chose you because you grew up with him. No matter what others say, you worked for your rank. That is an honor. Don't let anyone curse your status as if you know no suffering. Me and your mother both know your empathy goes farther than what you've felt... your heart is golden, love, and that is why you are amazing at what you do. You are the protector of this kingdom's future. Never let us get in the way of that." A smile fell on the man's face as he walked over to his daughter, both her parents beside her. "Nirn needs a beacon of light to look for guidance and protection. Go be Wayrest's. Do what your heart tells you. You can do this. We promise."


    Slightly blinking a bit, Valencia retraced her steps. Damn... oh divines don't let my mind wander because of illness like this... Focusing back on the situation at hand, the woman took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "...Remove you hand, love. I ask if I may heal it after you do so. No bloodshed. Not today... I promise." Her voice was quiet, gentle, but no longer glowingly cheerful. It was lower, saddened. She opened her eyes, keeping her eyes on the fire, so that they were lowered. Once the woman released the blade, the knight slowly took her blade back and sheathed it away, looking to the fire as if she were the traitor. The reason she did so was only because she wanted to hide the tears that sparkled in her eyes.

    My heart tells me I can't do it. "I-I..." she cleared her throat, trying to regain her clear voice, rather than her trembling one. No need to shed tears. "I cannot determine truth from falsehood with this information. If you are innocent... I vowed not to kill an innocent. That, I will follow." Her jaw was tight, trying to her best to keep her calm. As if very little occurred, she sat down near the fire, placing her weapon and shield back next to the armor. She stared at the fire to avoid all eye contact, but her eyes were lowered to hide the still lingering tears that she didn't dare let fall. She was at a loss for words, and it was obvious. But her heart spoke, and she followed. "Now come over so I can heal you. Both of you." She spoke into the fire still, her eyes not leaving its glow.

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  16. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    Feeling a hand wrap around his wrist, Rolard's azure eyes were surprised to see Ihylin still standing strong between the two titans of battle. It didn't escape him that she flinched away when his voice raised in blistering rage, or her shaking form as painful memories seemed to be flooding back to her even now. Memories she should have never recalled, had he not been so careless. Or perhaps he wasn't careless, maybe he did want her to remember. To have someone that hadn't been taken from him. It was a selfish want. None that were close to him met a pleasant fate. The more distance that remained between the two the better. Right?

    Those thoughts would have to wait however, as the merchant still held the blade of Val the Brave, and it remained to be seen what her actions would be. If she dared to raise her sword against his old friend, he would throw himself at the knight like a tempest. But as she watched her, he could see the pain in her face, as if the two's words hit her like a Minotaur. Perhaps she felt badly for her actions, for raising her sword against travelling companions. Perhaps their words simply dredged up painful things from her past. It was difficult to tell, but the effect was evident as the white haired knight glanced into the ethereal fire, no longer able to meet their gazes, stating that no further blood would be shed.

    It was a great relief to the Breton warrior to hear this, not because he feared execution, but because he couldn't stand the thought of killing such a pure, virtuous knight. Someone that was everything Rolard had aspired to be since he was a boy. To see how far he fell from that mark grated on his soul.

    Despite being the one who was threatened with nothing less than death, the ex-knight couldn't help but feel bad at the sight of the disheartened girl, the usual cheer in her voice noticeably absent. Even now she offered to mind the wound on his chest, blood still dripping freely from it, the royal blade biting easily and deep through his skin.

    Innocent? Tch, no. Not innocent... Glancing down at his hands, he could see crimson dripping from them, drenched in his brethren's blood. Blinking, he looked again, and saw only his scarred, weathered hands. Not even close.

    Usually Rolard would deny an offer for assistance for such a minor flesh wound, but he didn't want to create any deeper of a rift between the two knights. Knowing Ihylin would likely be stubborn, as was her nature, he grabbed her arm and guided her over to their gentle companion before taking a seat next to her.

    While he waited for her to mend his wound, he tried to find some words to mend her own. "Lady Ildrose... I. I did not intend to wound you with what I said. Just... I'm not a good man, and innocent is the last word that should be used to describe me. But there are people who rely on me. Wrongs that I must right before the Divines mete out their justice. I just need more time before I... Before I meet the executioners blade." He didn't expect her to understand, but for some reason he saw the need to encourage her, to show her that she wasn't in the wrong.

    For one day, when his family name was restored, and his siblings safe, he would be executed. As well he should be.

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  17. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    The vicelike grip on the royal blade loosened, and Ihylin drew her hand away, watching the knight sheath her sword. The promise she gave, thought sincere, sounded so uncertain, and her eyes drifted to the fire. Even as she offered to heal the wounds of the merchant and the mercenary, the auburn-haired woman shook her head to refuse.

    Rol seemed to know well enough that she would turn down the healing again, taking her by the arm and sitting the merchant down between the two warriors. With a grumble under her breath, Ihylin held her hand out to Valencia. The wound was nothing more than a nick in her skin, but drops of blood had welled on the surface and it sat a bit sore on her palm. In all fairness, she could have healed the wound herself. The action, however, was hopefully one that would smooth ruffled feathers and make their trip up to Solitude less tense.

    Sighing gratefully as healing magicka closed up the wound, Ihylin murmured a thanks, putting her gaze to the pot over the fire. The smell of cooking meat was anchoring her thoughts to remain to the inside of their shelter, but even then she wandered. Everything Seton had said echoed in her mind. Briefly, in his letter, he had explained what happened, but it wasn't enough to explain the sudden flight from Wayrest. Details had been forcibly spared for the fear of discovery, and now, for the most part, she understood.

    What of your siblings? Where are they? Safe? Ye gods, you stupid, stubborn oaf. A letter telling me you were okay would have been welcomed from anyone. And that's why you have the Ember Crown... Because you are the Akaire family now.

    Inhaling again, Ihylin stood and crossed to the other side of the fire, stomping up the caravan steps and near slamming the door behind her. Wheels creaking, the entire thing rocked as she made a ruckus inside, drawers shutting harshly, various utensils rattling, and compartments slamming close. The door burst open, and the merchant staggered from the back, wearing new clothes and an irritated expression on her face. A leather vest was thrown over a dark green tunic, the rolled sleeves coming to her elbows. She wore dark colored trousers instead of her usual dress, seemingly more put together for road travel than previous attire. Tossing the furs she carried in her arms to either of them, she sat down heavily in the dirt and swore.

    "Shor's balls, Rolard Seton, would it have killed you to at least write me so I knew that you weren't fucking dead?! I could have helped you, you stubborn, forbearing ass! You--you could have at least said where you were going, how you were doing, anything that indicated that you weren't lying somewhere in the ditch along the side of the road would have been really nice! But no! You send me a letter telling me to never expect to hear from you again, and that's that. You, sire, caused me to have a very bad night and a priestess to pour medicinal sludge down my throat because I damn near killed myself in anger and grief! You could have sent flowers, you bloody prick!" Sputtering angrily, the woman was not ashamed of her outburst, and quickly looked to find something to chuck at his face. Snatching up her boot, she hurled it over the fire at him.

    "Of all my time traveling to bloody courts all over Tamriel, you were the only one out of every kid I met that was willing to say hello to me! You let me play bandits and guards with you and your friends, and showed me how you conjured fire, and the only one not stuck up and snooty enough to ignore a grimy looking girl after a day at the forge, because gods forbid a girl does work for once and Oblivion gates are opening up again! You were my friend, Rol! And you told me to just forget you! That is not how this works, you dumb oaf. That's not how any of it works..." Her voice faltering, she glowered at him, gripping the stirring spoon like she would throw that at him too. With a huff, she dropped the ladle into the pot.

    "The two of you are not going to fight again. I forbid it. No bickering, no angry glares. Nothing. You hear me? Nothing. Now grab a bowl and eat. Stew's done, and this storm is going to be around for a while."

    @Zelda @Keidivh
     
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    #97 Hart, Jul 26, 2017
    Last edited: Jul 26, 2017
  18. Zelda

    Zelda Princess of Hyrule

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    Eyes never rose to either of them, knowing she herself could not bear the pain. She hurt the one she was meant to protect, while unintentionally, it still brought her sadness. And Rolard... she wanted more information. His family brought her homeland suffering, at least, to the extent that she knew. However, her heart knew better than to assume all from officials to be correct. While she knew her own kingdom was of virtue and honesty, not all could be said for the other kingdoms of High Rock. If she were to condemn him for unrighteous demeanor despite her own lack of knowledge from the truth, she would condemn herself to guilt. With Rolard and Ihylin's ties of the past, it would pain her to see as such.

    She too knew Lord Seton from the past. Not as close as Lady Sweetwater, but she met him a few times. As they were both knights, training and missions were at times mixed with other units, as the Roses and Flames would at times do. She would admit she had a few conversations with the minor noble, impressed by his perseverance to provide a life of an honorable knight, unlike most snobby minor nobles. His skills were incredible, and she in fact admired them at the time, but as she rose in the ranks of the Roses, she dwindled away from mixed missions and training to more focused ones. She only saw him when Prince Rodeyval traveled, and she could see him from afar, lost in the other faces of other knights whom she was once comrades with.

    From her peripheral vision, the woman could see the male drag the other over to be healed. She knew a rift had grown between her and the merchant by now, due to her protectiveness over her old friend which Valencia had become an enemy to, at most. Of course, tears still stung her eyes, but tempted to fall. As quickly as she felt one sneak away, she quickly wiped it away, before waving her hand around. "Bugs." She quickly implied, focusing on the fire before turning to face the two beside her.

    Carefully and gently, as she did before, she took Ihylin's hand and let the warm crackling light escape her hands to envelop the lady's own. Quickly the blood swept back into the wound from which it came, the skin becoming hazy as it formed back together, returning to the tight skin it was before. Finally, she released her hand before facing Seton. She did not dare eye him, as she did with Ihylin, not wanting her own emotion to escape. Gently, she placed her hand over on his chest, letting the warmly light take its place on him to bring back the health. Of course, the hole in his attire would still be present. She was taken aback though as he spoke to her, almost apologizing to her, but rather explaining himself.

    As the light of her own doing continued to glow, she lowered her eyes, before focusing them on the light between them. "I understand, love. There is no need to justify yourself to me." As the glow faded and the wound healed, she gently placed her hand on his chest where the wound once was, looking up to him, finally meeting eye-to-eye. "I trust that the divines will bring justice where it is deserved. Whether to the kingdom or you." Her voice was gentle, but hopeful.

    A sudden slam brought Valencia's hand away, quickly turning to face the caravan. If she had not known Ihylin was in there, she would have assumed two saber toothed cats were having a brawl within it. Watching carefully, she saw the auburn-haired woman storm out of her caravan as if all hell had broke loose from her plans. Two furs were thrown to the two, Valencia quickly catching her own as she gasped from the sudden action. Then, Ihylin began her rant. She sounded so seethingly angry... but it also sounded like a child who had lost a competition. The pain in her words were apparent, but it was a bit admirable. It was not an anger of hate, but an anger for love. The care she had for him was great, and their friendship meant a lot to Ihylin. Of course, with a boot being thrown across the fire at the male, the knight winced, knowing that was a disagreement she did not want to be a part of.

    After her fuse had blown, Valencia listened to her statement of no longer fighting with Rolard. She had no intentions of it, of course, that could change once she found a political leader of High Rock in Solitude. There always seemed to be someone there doing something in Skyrim. She mindfully agreed to the woman's rules, but never spoke of it: it was not a rule to agree with. It was a rule to be followed without word. As she stood, she walked over to Ihylin for the lunch, thanking her as she took a bowl and spoon before sitting down where she once was.

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  19. Keidivh

    Keidivh Noble exile of High Rock

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    An air of uncomfortable tension seemed to hang in tent as Ihylin still seemed to be working through her confusion and anger, Valencia struggled to come to terms with her actions, and Rolard... Truthfully he wasn't sure what to feel at this moment. Joy at reuniting with an old friend. Disgust at himself for dragging her back into his life, which was not a safe place to be. Anger at Valencia for threatening his life? Sympathy for her? All of these conflicting feelings seemed to collide in his head, causing a painful throbbing sensation in his skull. By the Divines, he needed more alcohol.

    Thankfully everyone seemed to have set aside violence, as the auburn haired merchant reluctantly allowed her hand to be healed by their noble companion. It wasn't long before the white haired woman moved on to Rolard, tentatively placing her hand upon his chest, unable to bring her sapphire eyes to meet his own still. To think that he could have forgotten someone so recognizable was rather shameful. There were few knights in the kingdom who had gathered such renown at such a young age. He wracked his brain to try and recall the times they met, but he found only the shells of memories. A few conversations he no longer recalled the topic of. Training sessions. Had they ever sparred? No, likely not. Sparring against someone of her skill wasn't something he'd forget.

    As her gently glowing hands knitted his torn skin together, he was surprised as to what she had to say. She understood his plight, trusted that the Divines would deliver justice in the end. Hearing those words from Val the Brave was unexpected, and just the smallest weight was lifted off his shoulder. "Thank you... That means more than you'd imagine."

    As difficult as this night had been, perhaps it wasn't all for nothing? Perhaps some good had come of it. Perhaps he would be able to sleep soundly this night...

    The sound of thrashing and banging in the caravan quelled these thoughts quite quickly, as Rolard realized that Val was no longer pointing a blade at him. Which meant Ihylin no longer had to defend him.... Which meant she was probably about to kill him. Glancing to Valencia, an amused smirk grew over his weathered features as he listened to his Silly Ihyl storm in. "I think I'm in trouble." He mouthed to her, before the merchant's frustration finally boiled over, and the Breton prepared to receive a long talking to. Something he undoubtedly earned.

    The Nordic silversmith raged at the lordling for not writing to her ever since his flight from Akaire. It was certainly not the most... Tactful thing he had ever done. The two had sent each other letters ever since her family had left his ancestral home. Of course due to their travelling nature, and the time it took to sent them, they were few and far in between at the best of times. But no matter how much time passed, he never forgot, and she didn't either it seemed. When he sent that final letter, he thought he was doing the right thing. Protecting her from being associated with an Oathbreaker, protecting her from those who still hunted him and his family. How could he say he cared for her, and dare to drag her into such dire straits. Yet even his attempts at protecting seemed to do more harm than good.

    Hearing that Ihylin had nearly died because of that letter shocked the Breton, quickly averting his gaze to the ground, ashamed at what his actions had caused. Knowing her hurt her like that. Another wrong he could only hope he could right. As the ex-knight felt a boot smack into his face, he realized this one would likely take a long time

    As the anger began to fade from her hazel eyes, she demanded the two warriors remain civil with each other, not so much as a withering glance between the two. Personally Rolard was unconcerned with this, feeling that an understanding had been reached between the two. Still, he nodded his consent, not daring to try and argue with Ihyl when she was in this type of mood. That never ended well, if he recalled correctly.

    Standing, he went to get a bowl of stew, while his mind tried to find the right words to say. Or any. "Ihyl I. I-I never meant to hurt you by cutting you off. S'pose I should have known it would have, but I wanted... I needed to make sure you were safe. Wayrest charged me with high treason and murder Ihyl, not something to be taken lightly. How could I call myself your friend and simply drag you into the mess I'm living in. So I thought if I cut off contact, stopped talking to you entirely, they'd never find you. Perhaps I was wrong to do so. Wouldn't the first mistake I've made sense everything went to Oblivion. But I couldn't do nothing." Placing a hand on her shoulder, which was a considerable risk considering her mood, he tried to meet her eyes with his.

    "You know you were one of the only true friends I ever had... Didn't treat me like a damned prince, didn't suck up to me or try to win my favor. You were just yourself with me, a smart mouthed girl with a temper and dangerous love of the forge. You never looked at me differently and, well I feared that after everything I'd done you would. It's no excuse for what I put you through I know. I suppose I'm just trying to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I messed things up Ihyl. You don't need to forgive me. Just feel you deserved that much."

    @Zelda @Hart
     
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  20. Hart

    Hart Well-Known Member

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    Dumping the vegetable filled broth and chunks of meat into a bowl for the lord, Ihylin simmered quietly by the ice colored fire, letting her thoughts tumble as she tried to sort through everything that had come back to her in such a short time. She passed the bowl off to him, listening as he struggled to find something to say; his explanation came spilling out, things she both did and didn't want to hear caused her to groan inwardly. With a quiet chuckle, the merchant felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to find herself staring straight at him. The ex-knight's apology was sincere and heartfelt, she felt a pang of guilt for yelling at him.

    Absently reaching up, Ihylin patted him on the cheek like a child, smiling to herself as she looked back into the fire.

    "No, Rol. I forgive you. You tried protecting me, and I really can't tell you how grateful I am for you to do that. Maybe the circumstances weren't the best, but I don't think I was in any danger. I'm not really a well know silversmith in Cyrodiil or Skyrim. Our time together was short, at best, and the letters few and far in-between. If not long winded." A short, breathy laugh was heard from the woman as she shook her head. "I won't look at you differently until I've heard the entire story. Then I'll make my choice."

    Ladling a bowl of her own, the merchant let the stew cool, staring at the murky liquid. Valencia had been quiet through the silversmith's outburst, startled by the sudden raging through the wagon. Clearing her throat, Ihylin stirred her meal and searched for words.

    "Lady Ildrose, I... er. I don't hate you. Or dislike you, really. Perhaps the situation could have been handled better, seeing as how weapons were drawn, and well-- nevermind, that doesn't matter. I'll blame it on the moons, I think they're both full in this rotation," She joked.

    "You are still free to accompany the caravan to Solitude. That being said, the pay is increased, as I'm sure we're going to encounter a lot more resistance on the road ahead. This goes for you as well, Rol."

    @Zelda @Keidivh
     
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    #100 Hart, Jul 27, 2017
    Last edited: Jul 27, 2017

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