Kaper
Ramblings in a Poitainian Spring
I like Tinabula. Power there, and strength behind the smile and occasional giggliness. Perceptive also.
Why pray here rather than the Temple at Fort Conviction?
I looked about the Chapel in Caenna, its old familiarity, the scent of incense still flavoured with Baione flowers as it was when my mother prepared it, for I follow the same recipe.... Safety here, calmness. A place that has always been. For much as I strive to build Invicta's new home strong, there is a nagging fear that perhaps it will go the way of Fort Invicta
Smoky Faces
Tesso always wore on him. The social nuances and lack of security held dual strains over him at each visit. He did enjoy meeting the Alkeemon people, their story was fascinating. He lit another candle in his room. The Captain had given him one of the towers along the keep wall and he was grateful for it. The library was not secure or private enough. Incense filled the room now and soft light danced many shadows on the walls. His books, scrolls, artifacts, and other items were still askance in this place. He reached for the brew from the agave cactus that his master taught him to make. This particular brew was used to inspect one’s visions.
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Purging the Demons
Kyzafi sat in the fort library the day after the wedding scribing in his journal. It was a small building with many unpacked boxes. He had taken it upon himself to try and organize things, but he knew others used the library as well. Tomes of Mitra were undoubtedly left by Tereska. The room smelled of coffee and cinnamon which he had brought back from Khemi. They were some of the luxuries he had missed from his youth. Perhaps he could introduce the northmen to coffee?
His thoughts were wondering as he tried to write. His discipline and focus were waning recently. It was unlike him to let his mind wander to far. Shelaith had been a hardened task master, but also distilled great wisdom into him. The old mage would sit for hours focused on deciphering some tablet or watching water fall down a leaf. Perhaps that was the source of the old man’s power?
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Reverie on a wedding, a battle and a kidnapping
Focus.
*Giggles*
I recall how often Hroth says that to Terri. But it is true.... I should focus on these stitches. Here as I wait for my love to awaken. Sitting and trying to sew the neatest of stitches for a gown I shall wear on that day Relius wishes me to be his Queen. But my talents lie with cooking and baking, distilling and the mystical properties of herbs and roots as they both transform taste and cure or protect.
Ah, protection... I wove a wedding wreath of myrtle for Hroth, with the love of a sister in it. And all the many sweet-smelling flowers in Terri's chaplet were there to enhance the love of that day and protect her.
*The hem drops to her lap as she gazes at the swallows darting beyond the window, up betimes as she is. Falling into reverie*
They needed that protection ...though Aurelius had it all well in hand, as always.
The Tale of War
Importance stood near the fire, watching the flames as they danced. The nights conversation had jumped around, but then the question was found. Tereska desired to hear the story of the war the eve before. The storming of Sanctions keep and the battle that took place. Importance agreed to tell her. He cleared his throat slowly as he begun to speak,
O, the day when a many marched into unknown soil...
To seize the keep of the heart's once toil...
The tyrant and his army filled within their own defensives build...
Amongst the men stood those of fame and fortune...
The male Cimmerian, his blade ablaze...
The female Cimmerian with her bow up raised...
The priest with her blessed powers...
The one in red which heart devours...
The one who’s head shined with the hours...
They marched between trees of palm...
The moon arose and with it the colds breeze...
A Punishment To Be Shared...?
“Bastard!”
The pick struck the rock with a loud clink and the impact carried up through Wulfran’s arms and into his shoulders. He gritted his teeth and struck again at the offending piece of stone.
“Poxxed!”
Clink.
Karone's Guard Duty
OOC note: This was a thread on the Invicta forums, which was requested to be cross-posted here by Fortunato. I have requested permission from all posters to copy their posts here. Should you, for some reason, find your post here without your permission, and you would like it removed, send me a tell in-game "Vhaelon" or through the Invicta forums. I hope you all will enjoy the posts, and the storyline is not to and end, so expect updates :) ))
Karone posted:
'Neath Skies of Blue
The skirmish had gone fairly well: the call had be answered swftly and the forces the enemy brought to the field were quickly overwhelmed and driven off or killed. In all too many ways it was undistinguishable from so many before it. A distress call, followed by a rallying cry and the surge of adrenaline as the Company responded, no one knowing exactly what to expect when they got there.
How many foe?
Was it an ambush, a trap of some kind?
How would the enemy respond?
A Journey South...
Wulfran raised his hand in greeting, as his dapple grey mare cantered east past Karone's post, glad he was far enough off to be spared verbal greetings. He needed the time alone. He liked Karone and had almost choked on his ale when she called Vhaelon, petty dictator that he was revealing himself to be, "Centurion Blondie" and the expression frozen on the officer's face was priceless. The smile that was starting at the memory died as he remembered the immediate aftermath, the punishment issued for a tavern house jest, the insistence on southern frivolities in a room full of off duty Cimmerian mercs. No, these weren't flower wearing Aquilonian dandies, with their shiny buttons and pretty parade maneuvers; these were killers from the cold, harsh Northlands. These were the reavers that still gave northern Aquilonians nightmares when the name Venarium was whispered.
