ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 4, 2020 1:44:53 GMT -5
the Bone Sceptera semi-advanced fantasy roleplay
Introduction
The figure stood on the edge of the woods, his boots heavy with mud. The mist of the twilight crawled across the moor like a specter from the grave. The image was fitting, he supposed. Not much farther through the trees, in the opposite direction, a body was being lowered into the ground. But that was not his concern. Not now. Now he had a job to perform, or so he was told. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pipe. As the sky slowly darkened and thunder rumbled over the far mountains, he breathed warm smoke into his lungs.
A tiny pin prick of light flashed across the meadow. Another guard stood in the trees opposite. He too was lighting his pipe, waiting. He spotted several others around the perimeter as well. One looked to the skies, perhaps in prayer, or perhaps watching a falcon in the white gray expanse, hunting for a field mouse. Another crouched among the roots of a drooping oak, He counted six, but supposed there were a few more. That many was necessary to watch their ward at such a time of day, and so far from the castle walls.
Before him was a quiet scene. A statue of the mother goddess, Aila, stood in the center of the moor with her arms outstretched. Her white robes seemed little protection against the impending night, but she was bathed in light from a number of sources. Lit candles were scattered at her feet, dozens of them, maybe hundreds from what the guard could see. Beside her were two much smaller, live figures. Two priestesses holding lanterns. Across from them, at the base of a statue, a the figure of a woman was on her knees. The evening was quiet enough that he could hear the gentle sobs as she remained bent at the feet of the statue, like a suppliant desperate for coin. The young woman's head was veiled in mourning.
Lightning flashed, drawing the guards eyes away from the scene. He looked toward the mountains. Rain would be falling soon enough. It would further damped the already boggy grass, and heavy the leaves of the forest's many trees. He could smell it on the air. It was almost metallic.
"Enough," he muttered. He emptied his pipe, then stepped out from the cover of the trees. His boots squelched in the long grass as he walked. A raindrop fell on his neck.
"My lady," he said, crouching down before the crying woman. He placed his hand gently on his back, which elicited a look from one of the priestesses. "We must get you inside. You'll catch a cold in this weather."
At that, she raised her veiled head. Her face, which he knew well, was puffy and red. Tears clung to her spidery black lashes. "My mother," she said to him, voice breaking.
He swallowed, unsure of the proper protocol when comforting a mourning princess. "Yes," he answered. He cleared his throat, then, and pulled her onto her feet by the arm. He was relieved to find she stood on her own, and he dropped his fingers from her grasp. "Come now. Your dress is soaked. A warm fire will do you good."
The priestesses turned back in the direction of the castle without being prompted. It looked farther away than usual, nestled atop the hill among the mist and black smudges of trees. Even from there, however, the guard could see the battlements were adorned with red lanterns from the funeral procession. The Queen was dead. And in her absence were many questions left unanswered. Who would be the first to plant his feet before the throne? And who would hang for the knife found at the cold queen's side?
The questions were too heavy for him to carry now, so he focused his attention instead on the princess, whose sobs had subsided but whose tears had not. The rain finally came as the party made its way toward the darkening trail to the castle.
If the kingdom made a sound, it was a shuttering gasp, one which was drowned out by the rain.
Note: Though this is partially a remake of a roleplay I made a few years ago, no prior knowledge is expected. I simply liked the idea, so figured I'd reboot it! The plot and character slots have been tweaked.
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 4, 2020 1:47:49 GMT -5
Setting the SceneThis story begins after the sudden death of the former queen, who, although popular among the people, was a private ruler in almost every regard. She failed to leave behind a legal heir, therefore the days after her death are tense with the question of who will succeed her. It was assumed she would live forever. Now that this has proven untrue, the palace is in shambles. There are several possible contenders for her successor. But the question of who with sit upon the throne is not the only that must be answered. Many others are in play. For example, a war seems to be brewing with there enemies to the west. Not only that, but new religious powers have risen among the common people which threaten the way of life for the most powerful in the castle. Not to mention, a political uprising threatens the monarchy altogether. All of this is coming to a head in the days leading up to a royal wedding.
Here are the biggest powers in the kingdom: (if you would like to join, you are welcome to pick from these character slots. I'm also completely open to different character ideas, just give me a heads up on how you imagine them fitting into the plot.)
The Royal Family
The family is apart of a long dynasty of rulers. Though popular with the people, their lives are kept largely secret from their subjects and they are often expected to put on facades of more idealized selves. Rulers are treated as deities in the kingdom, therefore statues of them are scattered throughout the city. Behind the curtain, they are a complex group of people. Loyalties and rivalries run deep within. Their members are:
° The Uncle: Witty, charismatic, irresponsible. Age 39, claimed by ℊℓоω
° The First Princess: Faithful, weak willed, kind. Age 20, claimed by ℊℓоω
° The Twin Prince: Aloof, studious, loyal. claimed by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊
° The Twin Princess: Free spirited, sharp tongued, independent. Open
The Browvyre House
The wealthiest family in the kingdom has always been close allies to the royal dynasty. They are some of the largest financial backers of the crown, and they have influence in many areas. They also have a deep connection to the most pervasive religion, that of the Three Sisters. They are intelligent, manipulative, and highly involved in all royal matters.
° The Mother: Scheming, vain, powerful. Open
° The Son: Honorable, well-liked, reckless. Open
° The Priestess/Daughter: Manipulative, intelligent, pious. Open
The Blackrunner House
They are from the mountains to the south. Though often quite distant from royal family politics, they are now being pulled into the fold due to an upcoming marriage between their eldest son and the eldest royal daughter. They are proud people in their own right, though they lack knowledge of the internal politics of the kingdom. They run a practically independent land which the former queen was intent on securing.
° The Father: Brash, likable, proud. Open
° The Eldest Son: Independent, brooding, capable. Open
° The Daughter: Gloomy, clever, silver-tongued. claimed by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖
Miscellaneous
Obviously these are the characters who do not belong to a larger house, but could be important to the plot nonetheless (depending on who gets claimed).
° The Priest (m): Learned, seductive, scheming. Open
° The Guard (m): Honorable, loyal, political. Age 31, claimed by ℊℓоω
° The Commander (m): Flirtatious, determined, funny. Open
° The Herbalist (f): Caring, intelligent, intrepid. Open
° The Assassin (m): Unreadable, beautiful, manipulative. Open
° The Rebel Leader (f): Charismatic, brave, well-spoken. Open
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 4, 2020 14:09:23 GMT -5
The World
The kingdom is similar in landscape to northern europe, though it is a fictional place, as are the people and cultures. It exists as a monarchy, as you have figured out by now. That monarchy is stationed primarily in a castle near the mountains, where there is a relatively small accompanying city. The largest city is to the north, near the sea, where important members of the royal family only occasionally visit. Those who live in the capital city are heavily aristocratic and far from the more impoverished parts of the kingdom, though on the whole it is rather wealthy. A very important factor, other than the government, is religion. The oldest and formerly most popular religion was of the Three Sisters, which worshiped three sister goddess, one a mother, one a lover, and one an elder. Each has statuary dedications around the kingdom and it is the chosen religion of most powerful families. A new religion, a monotheism called the Church of Kallistar, has arisen lately especially among the poor.
Here are some geographical notes:
The Capital City: Best known as Inoever, it is really just a glorified citadel. All residents live within the warn marble walls in white stone houses. The main feature, of course, is the castle itself which sits half way up a forested mountain. It overlooks a valley, which beyond is guarded by the snowy peaks of the southern reaches of the territory.
Vlelles: The most populated city in the kingdom is about forty miles to the north of Inoever. The climate there is somewhat warmer, as it is at a lower elevation. It sits upon the rocky shores of the sea and most of its populace is comprised of fishermen and merchants.
Desa: The nearly independent territory to the south exists at the highest elevations, where the weather is much colder. They have their own Lord, head of the Browvyre House. They are a proud people, though the majority of their population is somewhat poor.
The Moors: The lands to the west of the forests is simply referred to as "the Moors". It is rather rural, mostly used for wet crops. It comprises the largest territory in the kingdom and it borders Syburn.
Sybrun: The rival nation to the west. They are equally wealthy and powerful. They live in a warmer climate and territory disputes have been growing more and more frequent as the Syburny people desire better land for growing crops to sustain their growing population.
Nurmery: The kingdom to the east. They are small and very private, very rarely engaging in political interactions with their neighbors. They live almost entirely on islands, and their people are said to be hardy and standoffish.
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 5, 2020 22:52:45 GMT -5
Final NotesNow, if all of this sounds interesting and you would like to join, here are some final things to keep in mind:
1. Slots are more suggestions than concrete rules. If you have a character idea, let me know and I'll probably let you go ahead with it. I made the slots more to give some structure to the world/plot. If not all of the slots are claimed, we will still treat them as characters in the storyworld. So long as you have an idea of where your character would fit plot-wise, I'm sure it'll be great.
2. Please be considerate of both the forum rules and roleplaying etiquette. At this point we all know what these are, so I won't waste more time on the topic.
3. When it comes to making characters, please follow the standard rules of not claiming too many of one gender or making flawless people (only because perfect characters are boring). Also this is not a magical roleplay, so people should be realistic.
4. I won't set a word count for this roleplay. Just know that it is semi-advanced, so each response should give other roleplayers enough to respond to (a target length should be about 3 paragraphs). Also as far as activity goes, I know how it is. At this point, most of us are adults and have lives outside of the forums. Please just don't join if you have no intention of contributing consistently. Beyond that, I'll give everyone the benefit of the doubt!
5. Please come ready to plot and contribute! I personally love to hash out ideas, and mine are totally flexible. So if you have an idea for a plot or a character, let us know and we'll be happy to chat c:
That's about it! If you're ready to make characters, feel free to post them on the page linked below:
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 5, 2020 22:56:36 GMT -5
(Ayyy! The thread is up!)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 5, 2020 23:01:05 GMT -5
(Nice! I don’t have work until Tuesday so I can promise plenty of activity! Once work does start up again for me, I’ll still be able to get in replies fairly often though)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 5, 2020 23:15:12 GMT -5
Makes sense, I’m excited for it to start! )
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 7, 2020 3:10:55 GMT -5
. Q u i l l .
He was rather tired of the melodrama. It wasn't that he was happy the queen died, of course the sudden death had been sad. But he was also keenly aware of the fact that people died every day. His half sister had died of a fever when he was fifteen. Just a few days ago, a kindly stable worker named Kallos choked on a tough piece of meat. There was probably someone dying at that moment down in the city. Life was rife with death, that much he knew to be true. And yet no one could shut up about the queen. It was as if she was the first person to have ever died.
He stood with his back to the wall, watching as the princess received the condolences of nobleman after nobleman. Each of them came bearing gifts, mostly flowers, which were beginning to pile up in the back of the room like a comical greenhouse. The scent was overwhelmingly floral, to the point of feeling artificial. Just like everything he had witnessed over the last few days, it was borderline sickening.
Princess Ariadne was facing away from him. He could see only the back of her ashen head, and the straight posture of her back. He could tell she was barely holding it together. He came to this conclusion for no definable reason; he just knew. When you know someone for eleven years, you learn to read the back of their head. He watched, chewing on the inside of his cheek, as a sobbing nobleman fell at the princess' feet.
"No one could have known!" the man blubbered, snot bubbling out his nose. "She had s-so much life l-left t-t-t-o live!" The man sank to his knees, head drooping to his chest. He reminded Quill of a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut. In fact, there was something incredibly performative about all of it. This man had likely never spoken to the late queen more than once or twice. He had no reason to shed tears, especially five days after her body had been laid in the ground. She was probably as cold as an icicle by now. Nothing more than an unfeeling stone.
His attention slid back to Ariadne. Her slender hand rested on the arm of her chair. He watched her fingertips curl in, tightening ever so slightly. What was it that she was feeling? Anger? Heartbreak? He suspected it was the latter. Bless her heart, the princess was a sensitive creature. To her, the dramatic display of grief from the nobleman likely elicited a pang of pity. She probably felt sorry for the man, as if he was equally entitled to his tears as she was to hers. But Quill knew this wasn't true. The nobleman was either an idiot or a fraud. Either way, Quill was growing impatient.
"The princess is tired!" he announced, more to the guard manning the door than to any of the room's occupants. "Tell the rest in line that she will receive more guests tomorrow."
The nobleman was ushered out of the room, and Quill watched as Ariadne sat back in her chair, the tension in her shoulders slackening. Her hand touched her face. Wiping away a tear? And then she stood slowly, and made her way to the back door. She gave him a tired look that he knew served as a dismissal. She would be retiring to the private quarters, and he was free to do as he pleased until her next engagement: a dinner for all the wealthy, tragic clowns that had come to pay their respects.
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 7, 2020 3:35:16 GMT -5
(I can probably get a starter for Rowena up tomorrow!)
(Also I dunno if it’s easier, but I have a discord if anyone else does, might be a little easier for chatting? I check discord a lot more often than I do the forums, ngl)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 7, 2020 3:38:15 GMT -5
(I’d totally be interested! A group on discord seems like a good idea, at least assuming a majority of members have one)
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Post by Mosspath27 on Mar 7, 2020 11:44:40 GMT -5
The death of the queen meant many things to Sir Haciulf Rocstune. For all his worldly experience, he was decidedly uneducated in matters of dynastic succession. The queen had left children, and so there probably wouldn’t be any interregnum. Nevertheless, he learned abroad that of close family, the one with the biggest army and the fastest knife tended to have the best claim to the throne.
This was very important, of course, because the easiest start to building an army in the capital was to secure the loyalty of the retinue. Under the stable rule of the crown, he would not have to consider whether he owed his loyalty to the state or the crown. The potential presence of multiple claimants in the wake of a monarch’s sudden death—experience had taught the old captain to be suspicious of sudden deaths—changed this.
For now, he had practical concerns. On the day the doleful news broke, he had called up the militia garrison to augment the regular retinue. Perhaps he overstepped his authority in doing so, but he was prepared to defend his actions on the grounds that the vagabonds in the town might mistake the funeral procession for a substantial payday. By putting militia on the walls, he could dedicate the professionals to acting as security for the arrival of visiting nobles. That he wanted authority over the entire garrison was a minor detail that he was willing to deny for now, as was the fact that there were more of his professionals garrisoning the keep than there were policing the streets.
There was one more item that he’d put off until now. A mistake, he realized, if only because of his lack of choices in couriers. “Wardnar!” he called out. Only Martin Wardnar would hang around the armory on a pleasant evening; everybody else would be on duty in one of the thirty places he’d sent them all or would be enjoying the town. If they were smart, the night watch would be upstairs in the barracks asleep, but even they were more likely to be preparing for their duty with a drap of the local spirits.
“Yes, m’lord?” Wardnar glanced up from his seat, a bench behind a large barrel full of sand that he was using to scrub spots off his cuirass.
Lord, yes, for I am the Baron of Somnium Park. “I need you to run a message.”
“Me, m’lord?”
Pointedly, Rocstune looked up and down and all around the armory.
“Oh…yes, me, I suppose, m’lord. What is it?”
Rocstune hesitated, considering what he was content to reveal to the naïve man-at-arms before him, suspecting it would not be secret for long. “I want to be sure we still have a paying job, Wardnar,” the captain. “I don’t want the Tomsens falling into arrears at such a critical time, you see, so go to the palace and make sure they’ve kept us in mind.”
“I see, yes,” mused Wardnar, standing up to leave. “Wait, who do you want me to talk to?”
“The oldest princess, Ariadne.”
“Why her?”
“Because-” oh no, no, no, don’t you tell him of all people. “…I have considered my options, and I think she is the correct one to talk to. She won’t say ‘no’ to hungry soldiers. Besides, I’m sure that guard she has will be happy to deal with something other than a milksop for a few minutes.”
Wardnar’s eyes widened. “Milksops? They’re the peers of the realm! They’re knights, too! They're the men who joust in the tourn-”
“The pox on tournaments, they’re here to win favors by playing milksop in front of the sensitive Tomsens. Go find that guard. Er, Maximillian. Go, go, go.”
“Right, yes, m’lord.” Wardnar quickly turned toward his barrel, but the piecing eye of Sir Haciulf compelled him to reluctantly leave the cuirass inside and to briskly stumble out the door and find the glorious palace. Rocstune, left alone, raised his eyes to the heavens, beseeching the Sisters to send him luck and a competent adjutant.
Wardnar, for his part, simply succumbed to the bliss of having an easily fulfill-able task, and he soon found himself on the palace grounds, suffering the ribbing of other guardsmen in good humor. Inside, his eyes were peeled for the ostensibly venerable guard as he came to terms with the fact he had no idea what sort of schedule royalty in mourning followed. The best bet, he decided, was to follow the stream of disappointed barons travelling in the opposite direction and see what lay beyond its tail.
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 7, 2020 23:14:05 GMT -5
(Alright, I still plan on getting my Rowena starter up today (or tomorrow at the latest), I’m just trying to figure out where to throw her in)
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 8, 2020 0:00:33 GMT -5
[ I'll get up a post for Ariadne early in the day tomorrow. And if you have something for me to reply to by then, I'll do the same for you, 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖. You're also welcome to put her somewhere random, and wait for someone else to jump in. Let me know if you'd like me to throw one of my peeps at her, though c: ]
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 8, 2020 0:17:31 GMT -5
(Alright! I’ll get a starter up for her tonight!)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 8, 2020 2:33:21 GMT -5
The queen’s death had come as a shock sure, though more than that it had left the kingdom frantic. Personally, Rowena couldn’t quite see what the big deal was. Yes, the queen was dead, yes that was very sad for those closest to her...and to the kingdom of course, and while yes they were currently without a ruler, that would all rectify itself in the end...except for the dying part. You couldn’t really come back from that.
However, even with everything as chaotic and frantic and depressing as it all was, Rowena....well she couldn’t quite seem to get on the same track as everyone else. Perhaps it was because Rowena had never really been one to care too deeply about politics, or perhaps it was because she had a hard time caring when it wasn’t something she held close to home. It wasn’t that she was an uncaring woman or anything like that, Rowena wasn’t heartless. However unless she was particularly close to someone, their death wouldn’t make her grief.
So while yes, she felt bad for the royal family, it wasn’t the kind of “feel bad” that leaked into her average, every day life. In fact, her life had already changed rather drastically, with her elder brother set to marry the eldest princess. Rowena wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing and she had yet to sit him down and have a conversation with him about it all, but she knew that she would surely be dragged into it all far more than she had planned.
Which was why she was at the capital in the first place...Well that and the fact that her family had come to pay their respects. However after the all that traveling, they had been told that the princess would see them tomorrow.
Which meant for Rowena, it was time to slip away and find something a little more entertaining to spend her time on.
Glancing towards the rest of her family, Rowena slowly backed away from door, glancing left and right to make sure no one was paying any attention to her before quietly starting to slip away, planning on getting in some exploring while she was here.
(Sorry it’s such a crappy starter, I wasn’t entirely sure what to have her do but I hope it’s okay?)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Mar 8, 2020 13:12:11 GMT -5
( I am going to Disney world so I will have to get a Kvasir post up after )
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 8, 2020 23:26:57 GMT -5
. A r i a d n e .
She was relieved it was over, though she was a poor judge of how exactly long she had been receiving condolences. Each moment had felt excruciatingly long, but the hours blurred together. Now she was leaving the room feeling exactly as she had when she entered it: like a nagging pain had settled permanently in the pit of her stomach.
When the door closed behind her, she paused to look out the far window. It was raining, just as it had been the day the queen died. In fact it had never stopped raining. The trees outside seemed to droop under the weight of it. Even indoors, she could taste the metallic tinge on the air that permeated all things. The rain pounded on the window panes like an impatient visitor. She wondered if the Moors were flooding.
A glance over her shoulder confirmed that the hallway was empty. With this in mind, she reached for the latch on the window. It was stuck. Likely the window hadn't been opened in years, but the desire to open it compelled her to jiggle the stubborn latch. She fought it, quickly growing frustrated. Just when it was beginning to loosen, the latch broke off in her hand. She huffed. She hadn't cried all day, not after hours of strangers telling her how much they missed her mother. But now, having broken the worthless metal window latch, angry tears welled up in her eyes. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, refusing in vain to cry, and then pushed against the window with all her weight. And then it burst open.
A cool mist showered her arms. The sound from outside, which moments before had been muffled, now filled the hallway with a loud, cathartic thundering. Ariadne stood there for a moment, just out of reach of the deluge, inhaling the cool air into her lungs. The shock of cool air soothed her, overwhelming her senses.
And then she heard footsteps in the hall. Ariadne quickly moved to close the window, subjecting herself a freezing shower as she leaned outside to pull it in. Then, after wiping the water off her brow, she prepared herself to have a cordial conversation.
The person who rounded the corner, however, was not a nobleman or a distant relative. It was a soldier of some kind.
Ariadne failed to hide the surprise and embarrassment from her face. "Oh, hello!" she greeted the young man, tucking a socked lock of hair behind her ear. Her dark eyes scanned him, looking for clues as to why he was seeking her. "What is it?"
. K o n s t a n z .
The silver-lining to a royal death, if he was allowed to see the positive in such things, was the sudden abundance of delicious foods. No matter the time of day, if he happened to wander into a large enough room, he was sure to discover a marvelous bounty of pies, fruits, cured meats, and pastries. It was the first day of September (exactly five days after the death of the queen), and still the palace was primed to entertain countless visitors. He supposed they mostly had some vague connection to the crown. Perhaps they were "relatives" or "mourners." But he had a sneaking suspicion that half the visitors were commoners donning their Sunday's best in hopes of getting a free tour of the castle. He couldn't blame them. He felt an odd kinship with those who hid scuffed boots under the hems of their dresses. He spotted them around every corner, lips pursed unsuspectingly as they gazed up at the high ceilings and extravagant wall paintings. He would probably have done the same if he was in their position.
Of course he was not so lucky as to be a curious wanderer. He was none other than the untitled brother-in-law of the deceased. Oldest living relative of the dead queen. Perhaps in a different world, all these cured meats and wall paintings would be his. But alas, he was a bastard, and therefore eliminated from contention of who should wear the crown next. This was a fact he held no resentment toward. His lack of any potential kingship was something he came to terms with at a young age. Even still, it was sometimes fun to imagine that after all the mourning died down, he would put on a very large red cape and place a shiny crown upon his head.
Not that mourning the death of his sister-in-law was fun. He, like seemingly everyone else within a two hundred mile radius, had shed a healthy tear or two. But his time of grief was quickly over. This wasn't because he held a secret dislike for the murdered queen. He had liked her well enough. They had known each other for many years. But Konstanz secretly felt as though he was incapable of feeling sorrow for anyone but himself for a sustained period of time.
"Are you lost?" he asked a young woman. Nearly crashing into her had broken him from his reverie. He paused in eating his custard-stuffed pastry to look her up and down. This was all a part of a little game he was playing called "Who is a Mourner and Who is a Commoner Wearing Their Grandmother's Wedding Dress?" He took in his clues with a lazy glance. Her hair was too put-together to have done it herself, and the fabric of her dress was unwrinkled. No signs of moth damage. Glossy shoes. This one was too easy.
"You must be a Blackrunner or Browvyre of some sort," he mused. The tone of his voice was somewhere between boredom and politeness. It was as if he was interested in the answer, but not all that excited about the prospect of having a real conversation.
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Post by Amber on Mar 9, 2020 1:35:04 GMT -5
It was both chaotic times and interesting times. That, of course, was due to the former queen's untimely passing. The kingdom was left without an official heir, which presented complications for the future. That was the chaos. The interest came in from the unique oppertunity presented to Alana. She was living history as it happened in the moment. Her own thoughts, observations, and interviews collected from the populace would hopefully be useful to future historians. Perhaps there were even uses for it in the present. And so, that's why the redheaded woman was watching the mourners with a mix of resentment and pity. Most seemed genuine in their sorrow and condolences for the royal family. Others- an unfortunate vocal and tactless few -were making quite a show of their supposed sadness over the loss.
Alana was sure that the Tomsens all had enough of those types. It was part of the reason why she didn't waltz into the room and carelessly do her work around the mourning family. As the hours droned on and the scholar collected her information, the weather only worsened. It hardly lightened up since the queen's passing, but she had managed in such conditions. Unfortunately it proved too much and she was forced to move elsewhere. As Alana packed everything away, she noticed the crowd beginning to disperse. It seemed the Tomsens were done with condolences for the day and everyone being was sent away. Well, that worked out nicely, the woman thought as she began to leave.
With her bag at her side and something to shield away the rain, Alana was headed to nowhere in particular. Perhaps she would head to the library and continue her studies or maybe she would go out and wander the town. Alana couldn't be sure, so for the moment she left herself wander around.
(I had a very busy/chaotic day, but here's my starter. A bit messy, but I'm fine with it.)
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Post by Mosspath27 on Mar 9, 2020 11:43:30 GMT -5
The palace was an infernal labyrinth to the wide-eyed Martin Wardnar. Left and right, and then up and down his eyes flickered, trying to keep his mind off his inferiority in the face of the castle’s wealth and on his task. His quarry had a reputation for disappearing into curtains, compelling Wardnar to stop and study every tapestry, every long tablecloth, every possible piece of cover he ran across in the unlikely event it contained the guard. He must have gone through the entire castle, he thought, for he now felt a draft from around the next corner. Impetuously, he rounded it and…“!”
If the princess had fears about concealing her embarrassment, she had reckoned without Wardnar’s preoccupation with his own concerns: Oh Sisters! Oh no, oh goodness, that’s the princess, whatonearthdoIdoIcantleave…is hello the proper noble greeting? Can’t be, it must bethefactthat…for heaven’s sake, do something!
He moved to doff his hat, only to discover that he didn’t happen to be wearing one, and so he decidedly a spot behind his ear was in dreadful need of a scratch, and in the same motion, hastily bowed. He might even have knelt if he could figure out how to bend his knees again.
Swallowing air, still facing the ground, he spoke, his voice steadying more quickly than his train of thought: “I, uh…sorry, m- to disturb you, my lady, I was looking for…well, I didn’t expect you were here, is all, but I was supposed to bring a message to give to somebody to give to you, because Captain Sir Haciulf Rocstune said you wouldn’t say ‘no’ to hungry soldiers, and I guess that means he thinks we’re going to be hungry soon and I don’t know why.” He paused, out of breath, painfully aware of the need to compose himself. “I think he said he just wanted to be sure we were still getting paid is all. My lady.” He felt compelled to bow again, a challenge since he had never straightened up again. And so, he improvised by bending ever so slightly further, testing the very limits of his balance.
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 9, 2020 16:16:59 GMT -5
Rowena froze as soon as she heard a voice, knowing that she had been caught in some way. It wasn’t exactly like she was doing anything wrong, per say, though perhaps she should still be with her family and go along with whatever they were supposed to do in this sort of situation. Still, Rowena had no plans of abandoning her exploration, so straightening her posture, Rowena turned to face the owner of the voice. “Blackrunner-“ She started pointedly, placing her hands on her hips. “Rowena Blackrunner,” she explained, introducing herself.
However after she had gotten introductions over with, she actually paused for a moment to look at the man standing before her, a look of realization dawning upon her as she remembered who he was. She had known he had looked familiar ever since she had first seen him yet it had still taken her a couple moments before she could fully place why her seemed so familiar. ”You’re the queen’s brother,” she mused out loud, looking away afterwards.
It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to run off now. She had been caught by the recently deceased queen’s brother and considering her family was trying to make an effort here, Rowena supposed it was only right to be polite.
Looking back up at him, Rowena bowed her head in respect, long black hair falling in front of her face. “I’m sorry for your loss, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose a sibling,” she told him, brushing the hair out of her face as she tipped her head back up. Rowena hadn’t lost any siblings yet, but she had lost her mother and while she personally didn’t feel all that mournful over the queen’s death, she assumed it was a lot harder on the actual royal family.
The queen’s brother included.
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Mar 12, 2020 8:48:25 GMT -5
( head home today )
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