In the Name of the Thane! (Fantasy RP) [Inactive since 09/02/2013]

[Karakuri]

<sub>Meanwhile, still on his lonesome, and hideously plain in comparison to the brightly colored, decorated denizens of Gehana, the hyenaman lumbers through the throng of humans and beastmen alike. Mutters of "Sorry...sorry" and "I 'poligize greatly, marm.." were heard from the heavyset foreigner as he tried to navigate through the revelers. Eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of what was going on, the ruffian was almost blinded by the swirls of light and color, almost like a flock of little birds, the pretty kind his sister read about in books. The mercenary himself couldn't read, but it had always entertained him to listen to the younger Brock to describe the world that was not theirs in any tattered books she could scrounge from book shops. Shaking himself from the memory, Sulza Brock started blinking rapidly to get used to this change. Getting used to the sights of Gehana, but his eyes still staring in wonder, he felt like an awkward young'n again. Shifting his bag on his shoulder, he took a gander at the various people. Scantily clad maidens, vendors of all sorts shouting at him to buy their wares, and wild animals roaring and snarling at the crowd, kept in line by their masters. The heady aroma of food richer in quality than he ever imagined assaulted his snout, along with the tang of spices and herbs, of incense, and of general cleanliness. The clatter of hooves on shining cobblestones sounded a report inside his ears. Overwhelmed, the tarnished warrior stands in the middle of the crowd, not moving, overwhelmed by all of these new sounds, sights, and scents.

--~
After a rough, but not unfriendly shove by one of the party-goers, Sulza returns to his senses and stops acting like a dumb brute. Ducking out of the way with another volley of mumbled swears and uttering apologies, he comes to a stop in a sort of town square, with the crowd roaring at someone who seemed to be disappearing once more into the grand castle. Someone of importance, surely, such as a Thane or...maybe the Jarl himself? The crowd looked frenzied with excitement, an intrigued Brock slinks over to a vendor selling some kind of sweet-smelling bread. Partially distracted by the food, the peasant...who was practically a mere beggar in this state of magnificence, inspected the dark brown baked good, his stomach letting out a plaintive whine, protesting about the fact that he hadn't eaten since much earlier in his journey.</sub>

[Kasai]

Bojana Nacimiendo

Bojana raised her head and tilted it ever so slightly to the side, her finger tracing her jawline as she noticed the Jarl look to his side with a smile. He seemed to lose his focus momentarily until the obnoxious call of a bird sounded in the distance. The Jarl then allowed his attention to fall to the crowd again. Her faint smile didn’t falter and her eyebrows slowly rose as he winked at her. Not moving her head, she glanced to her left and right to see the plain humans and beastmen surrounding her, most looking to be beggars. Her eyes then returned to the Jarl as she realized that the wink was definitely meant for her.

"Citizens, and newcomers. Welcome to Gehana, Land of Gold. I am honored to host today's festival- it is an honor to have so many people attend.
Gehana's charms and baubles hold value- but the people are priceless. But speeches are tedious, especially on such days when excitement is boundless. So, with the rolling manes, wind-bringing breaths, and the sea-blue eyes of Akavi- may the Festival of our Lady begin!" Bojana wished for a longer speech, enjoying his one voice instead of the noisy mayhem that the people around her would create momentarily. As an assassin, noise was usually beneficial and an easy way to kill someone without anyone noticing, but Bojana herself couldn't stand a lot of noise.

The crowd erupted with their reply: "Hail Akavi! Long live Blasphemious!" Bojana, being a newcomer, didn’t know the responses and only glanced at her neighbors as they shouted these phrases and dispersed. Her dark eyes rested on the Jarl once more as the crowd around her dispersed to continue towards the sidewalks, bars, and bazaars.

She watched as he observed the celebrations occurring and she sauntered up the steps to the Jarl, popping her hips ever so slightly as she did so. She didn’t portray herself as a whore, but more so a woman with beautiful curves and not afraid to flaunt them. “My most magnificent Jarl, I humbly request to have an audience with you at whatever time is most convenient,” she said with a light smile. If she were a feline beastman, a purr could probably have been in her voice with the affectionate undertones the sentence contained.
 

Marcellus Ancelli

Marcellus glanced up as the Jarl gave him a smile and the scribe returned the gesture with an anxious smile. It was rare for the man to show a genuine happy smile or even a genuine laugh. It wasn’t because he hated the life he led. If anything, he loved his job and thanked the gods night and day for how fortunate he was. However, he was always an anxious individual, hiding behind his parents as a child and hiding behind his books as an adult. He wasn’t particularly social, possibly worsening his anxiety, and he would have probably felt safer in his office than surrounded by the servants. The workers constantly mocked him and he knew this, none of them appreciating his genius.

Lowering his eyes back to his opened scroll, he read along as Blasphemious spoke. "Citizens, and newcomers. Welcome to Gehana, Land of Gold. I am honored to host today's festival- it is an honor to have so many people attend.  Gehana's charms and baubles hold value- but the people are priceless,” the scribe mouthed the words as they were read off, his quill with ink hovering over each word. “But speeches are tedious, especially on such days when excitement is boundless.” The scribe paled as these words were now being spoken at the will of Blasphemious. Scribbling in the margins, he copied down this unscripted sentence. The leader then used the last sentence of the planned speech as it was written.  “So, with the rolling manes, wind-bringing breaths, and the sea-blue eyes of Akavi- may the Festival of our Lady begin!" The crowd shouted their reply back to the leader and the scribe wandered away from the doorway.

Scratching out the majority of the speech, the scribe went for the stairs, climbing up them as he continued to write. Absorbed in his work, the gentle touch of a hand spooked him as much as if someone smacked him upside the head. His right hand slipped due to him spooking so easily and he drew a line across the parchment. "Pardon me, sir.” The scribe straightened up, holding his materials close to him, arms crossed across them in his naturally closed way. "Perchance, are you familiar or acquainted with the Jarl?"

Marcellus nodded and paused, realizing she may need more details. “Um, yes, miss. I’m his scribe- er-well, his secretary and treasurer as well… I’ve worked for him for about, um, ten years. So, I’m well acquainted with him.” Allowing his left arm to hold the weight of the materials, he pointed down towards the door with his right hand, still holding his quill. “He’s right in the doorway down there if you’d like to speak with him. Th-the festivities are about to begin so, um, that’s what he’s waiting for. Then, a feast,” he explained, his shaky right hand returning to holding his supplies. His light blue eyes glanced down at his materials, social encounters not his strong suit.


 

[SoaringAway]

[WolfHeart88]

The Jarl was certainly not religious. He did not openly praise the gods nor did he attend temples and pilgrimages in their honor, because money had countlessly proven itself as a greater asset than any kind of faith.
But more so, the tragic death of his brother, Ven, colapsed his belief entirely.
Ven's death... It came as quickly as the flight of a crow, banishing the sun and piercing the sky. It shrouded his land in shadow... For a time being. Though he lived a life that allowed him to bypass the pain.
What more could he do?
These festivities were nothing more than popularity and economy to him. Merchants flocking his castle, new faces treading the streets in constant awe- these were great times to cut a deal with a shopkeeper, not sing praise to deities. For him, at least.
For others, he could not say the same. Each person had their own reason to praise Akavi, few were as devote as the maidens and priestesses.
But if groveling at the feet of Akavi could not save his brother's life, surely it could not save his either.

Ah, the drums slowly pattered to life again- Blasphemious could feel them reverberate through his lungs. They became an accent to the festivities, like an underlying taste to an exotic wine.

He noticed the Snakewoman venturing up the stairs towards him, a visible flare in her waist. Oh, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy she was! He smiled at her again- his mismatched maroons fluttered over her features.
Blasphrmious slanted forward, not lowering his head, as it would be improper for a Jarl to do so, but bowing one knee slightly to her and spreading his arms in a greeting gesture. In a nutshell, it was a masculine curtsy. It looked rather charming too- so he delayed his resurfacing a moment longer to peek at her. A new tone took to hiding his smile, and suddenly his dim eyes, smoldering like hot coals, bored into hers.
He awaited her reaction in this moment- eyes locked, reading the other assassin. In this intense, mysterious way had he seduced quite a many girls.
It was child's play to the natural playboy.

[Kasai]

Bojana Nacimiendo

The female assassin noticed the Jarl's wandering eyes and this only served to lift her head higher. His grand gesture made her look him up and down as he did to her only a few moments ago. Her eyes worked their way back to his head only to find his blazing eyes staring at her- into her. Captivated, her confident smile fell and she looked at him with her lips slightly parted. A few seconds of silence passed between the two until there was a slight change in Bojana’s eyes.

She had seen this game before and often played it herself. It was in her array of characters. An assassin couldn’t risk using their own name too frequently and Bojana had fun with her disguises. Mira the beggar, Sofia the merchant, and Arianna the seducer were among her personas. It was Arianna who met the farmer just the other day, playing the woman she knew he needed. That was what the clever Jarl was doing now. He was playing to what most women would want. Bojana mentally scolded herself for falling for tricks so familiar to her. Her eyes were guarded, not letting him in as she mentally questioned him. /Whom are you searching for, Blasphemious? Arianna the whore or Bojana the assassin?/

Advancing, the snakewoman was only a few inches from his face, seeming to be lost in his eyes, before whispering, "Your tricks are impressive, but I am not your every day whore. I did not come here for those types of services." Her eyes then lightened playfully as she added with the ghost of a smile, "Although I wouldn't be opposed to those activities so long as we can discuss my true purpose in being here." Should she get on the Jarl’s good side, she knew they would make a deadly pair. However, the two were similar as far as what she heard on her way over to Gehana. Perhaps they were too similar. Both seemed to like power and money. Money wasn’t much of a problem since Blasphemious had it and Bojana wanted it, but power was hard in a relationship when both individuals wanted it.
 
 

Marcellus Ancelli

As the woman beside him looked over to where the Jarl was, Marcellus looked down at his scroll again, trying to look busy. She regained his attention when she dipped her head slightly in thought. The scribe glanced up, his head still tilted down. Servants were looking over at them and it wasn’t a mystery to Marcellus why they were. Not only was the woman in front of him dressed peculiarly and holding herself proudly, or at least in good posture, but she was also speaking to the most anti-social individual in the whole palace. He was probably the most intelligent in the building, but the most awkward to hold a conversation with.

The woman then turned towards the scribe, making him nervous once more. He did his best to make eye contact, he truly did, but his eyes darted around periodically despite himself. “With the goddess Bess looking down upon me, I apologize for my intrusion as it caused your mistake.” The scribe then looked down at his work and was about to correct her, but she continued. “Alas, I appreciate your gratitude of assistance as to how you narrowed my search but the Jarl of Gehana is unfortunately jollying about with his personal affairs.” Marcellus looked over at the door where the snakewoman was speaking to Blasphemious. With how the snakewoman was dressed, calling what was going on as Blasphemious’s “personal affairs” was probably the most polite way to address the situation.

The scribe paled slightly at a memory of the servants pulling a prank on the scribe by telling one of those scantily clad women to seduce him for the day. He would have rather had panic attacks all day than have been chased by one of those women. It had been a few years since that incident and Blasphemious seemed to have no knowledge of the event, but Marcellus suspected him to be behind it.

His eyes returned to the woman as she bowed her head a little. “If there is no objectives you’ve set for today, may you be a messenger? I’ll surely write my own note towards the Jarl.” She then retrieved a scroll from her satchel.

Marcellus nodded and did his best to roll up the messed up scroll in his possession with one hand. He then went over to the thick railing protecting them from falling off the second floor. Digging into a pocket of his coat, he pulled out a bottle of ink and a feather and placed it on the ledge. He then tightly rolled up the scroll, waiting for the woman to place her scroll on the ledge and write. “Careful you don’t fall over that railing, Marcellus,” a servant grunted with a mocking smile as he passed the woman and the scribe. The scribe remained tense until the man left, seeming to be particularly interested in the scroll. He didn’t really care about the line across it. After all, with how much the Jarl cut out from his speech, the scribe would have to rewrite it on a separate scroll anyways.




[I was trying to describe something that looked like this railing, but I just want to make sure the picture was clear:
Basically, just a railing with a flat surface about the width of a normal human forearm.]

[RavenShai]

((Hey guys, I'm afraid I'm going to have to drop out! It's a shame, though, I was hoping I'd have enough time to keep up but it doesn't appear I do haha >.< If anyone has tried talking to Az [it doesn't look like it, which would be convenient] you can either ignore that bit or say something happened that caused him to be distracted or some such thing and move on.

If I have more time in the future, I may come back and reapply. Until then, have fun with the RP everyone and good luck on keeping it active! ^.^ Hopefully I'll see you all soon!))

[WolfHeart88]

(( Awwww, Katsa ;_;
*bai hug*

Kasai, your signature... No matter how many times I see it, I can't stop laughing at it XD ))

New character!
Name: John Wikkas. "Wikkas" often called "Buttface".
Appearance:
Pale, thin, and tall. Noticeable bags reside beneath his eyes, but other than that, he could be considered good-looking. His black, messy mane of hair is sometimes pinned back in a ponytail.
Wikkas also has a strong accent called 'British' in our tongue. This is because he is originally from Vemenes, a land seperated from Vikkal, and far up north.
Type:"Huuumin!"
Gender: "A'm allllll man!"
Social class: "...Common"
Reason for going to Gehana: "The festival, duuuuh!"
Strengths: His puppy eyes >:D
Weaknesses: He absolutely CANNOT flirt. He tries, but it usually results in utter failure. He's scared of spiders, snakes, fire, and basically everything.
He's blind without his glasses.
Likes: Cake, carrots, traveling, books, and he's an aspiring author.
Dislikes: Honestly? Everything. He finds negatives very quickly.


His hand delayed yet again, quill laying still against the page, asleep. It's owner sighed heavily, glancing at the azure sky above.
"Bloody Bess..." He stared harder at the clouds swirling by, as if in them, he could find hidden inspiration.
This bore no result, and in a matter of moments his book closed with a loud thud, and his lanky body got up off the uneven tree stump.
He brushed the dirt off his brown pants, quickly straightened out his white shirt, and finally equipped his favorite purple scarf before grabbing his backpack and setting off again.
By daybreak he had reached the golden walls of Gehana. Over them, he could see the towering castles and buildings- their architecture stunning.
Wikkas stated at the castle's convex roof a bit longer before hazily crossing the city gates, his eyes half closed and glasses nearly sliding off. It had taken by far too long to get here from Cenu, Wikkas had not slept for a long, long time. The dusty road, full of lurking bandits and harsh weather had taken its toll on him, and he struggled to keep from collapsing once he reached the glorious heart of the city.
'A' jus' need sum mead... Yea, mead..."
He hightailed to the nearest tavern, a run-down place full of nothing but beefed-up mercenaries and quiet mages, a place where Wikkas definatly shouldn't be.
After sitting down and ordering the strongest drink on the menu, a close-by brute grunted, "What're 'ya looking' at?" Wikkas wasn't looking, no definatly not, but if he had the guts to turn around, he would have faced a very drunk Bullman.
Instead, he shrunk away, his face turning paler than it already was.
He downed his drink before the tavern-keeper could ask for his money, which resulted in a flushed and blabbering Wikkas realizing he didn't even have any money in the first place. Thus, he was violently shoved out of the tavern and into the street. In his hazy state, Wikkas did not realize that he had been punched in the process of being kicked out.
So, drunk, filthy, and with a bloody nose, he stumbled towards the Jarl's Castle, unsure of what his incoherent brain was trying to make him do.

BLASPHEMIOUS --->

The Snakewoman was charmed, Blasphemious felt her gaze shift to a more vulnerable expression. But all too quickly, she had regained control. He was the one being scrutinized now, studied, like a theif caught in trail.

"Milady, must one be a common whore to accept another's love?" The Goatman smirked lightly, daring the other.
"Ah, yes. 'Tis fair trade. As I am sure you know, trade is my power." A playful look danced in his eyes.
"I would be glad to listen to you... But we only have a short time. The caravans will soon arrive. So let us discuss this here."
There was another reason that the Jarl did not invite the other to his headquarters. He knew they would be alone there. And, he knew an assassin when he saw one.

((I'm sorry about my late replies, I really don't have much time to work on them :c ))

[WolfHeart88]

(( Bump. Some more activity please? :C
))

[Karakuri]

[*flails* Sorry, Des, I just don't have anyone to rp with right now, everyone's in the castle.]

[SoaringAway]

Anya was already pulling out her own ink pot and quill as she found that the scribe had already created a station for her to write as she had a nervous smile on her face. The priestess slowly walked over to where the scribe had set up the items but she placed her items aside and nodded her head at the scribe, "I thank you for the utensils needed to write but I have my own. I mustn't waste your ink." As she leaned over , she dabbed her quill into the ink and began writing in one of the first languages present in Vikkal "One Tongue." Without paying much mind, she was finished within a few minutes but she scolded herself while cursing silently in mind. "Sorry for taking up much of your time but ...these hands of mine decided to write in a different tongue."

However, the comment that one of the servants made made her quickly glance over her shoulder giving a suspicious glare at the male servant which caused the fleeing servant to stare back in confusion. With a small huff, she began to  translate her original document on the bottom of half the scroll without much effort seeing as how she can go from one language to the other when being careless. While writing, however, she had forgotten to even introduce herself and thus made writing the letter effortless as the scribe might turn it in and not have a name present on the scroll. "--Sorry for not introducing myself. I am Piper Tully, the 4th priestess for the Akavi Temple." She, however, continued speaking while writing, "What is your name, scribe? I must surely know the man that has assisted me with this dilemma."

The letter read as followed:
"To the humble Jarl Blasphemious,
The convent of the maidens and Priestess from Haafiner had arrived as scheduled with greetings from the Jarl that rules over where their temple lies. The Jarl that watches over their land will also be asking for compensation for moving the festival over to their land. Thank you for accepting the main street of your kingdom to hold the annual celebration of the goddess Akavi and may her mane never weed."