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  1. sweet as cherry wine ; The wedding ceremony is one to be remembered for all who attend. It comes from the old traditions of the royal house, one taken from their roots as a family forged from war, and even from those distant ancestors beyond the shimmering seas. The vows were taken from a time when they had to raise warriors, and so marriage is to be a union that shares all. Marriage is to be celebrated through three aspects: mind, body, and soul. Here is the joining; here is where two become one. The soul speaks, bringing forth life and death in equal measure. Love is nothing without the capacity to share what is within. They speak promises, first. The Queen takes her husband’s hands in her own, clasped together as they declare their ties to one another, what the inner core within has to say for everyone around to hear. He tells her he adores her in all the languages he knows, some foreign even to her own cultured ears, and that vulnerable heart in her chest clutches tight, hard enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs. She repays in kind, in full, in counterpart. She may not be able to speak all the words heard around the world, but she can tell him she loves him. Even something as simple as that. It is no hardship. The mind deliberates, solving all problems it encounters. Love is nothing without the wits to understand and to adapt. Here, the couple presents each other a conundrum of their own making, one for the other to solve in their own time. It has been prepared long before the ceremony, these puzzles borne as products of their own thinking and devising, and the moment is merely a formality to be shown to the rest of the world. The Queen cannot help her smile when her husband reveals he has solved hers from the moment she had given it to him; she has long conceded that he is a more worldly soul than she will ever be. They are of one mind, of one will, of one judgment now. Where one’s thoughts go, the other follows; there can be no misgivings where there is an all-encompassing virtue of understanding. The body overcomes, thriving against all odds. Love is nothing without a vessel to have and to hold. The Queen places her hands on her husband’s shoulders, shivers when he drags his fingers up her arm to mirror her: slowly, teasingly. As practiced many times before, they kneel down on their knees, bowing before each other as lovers, as equals. They will share in all and may share of themselves to others, but in this aspect, the body can be devoted to only their other half, in this lifetime and whatever may be to come. Amidst the quiet murmurings of blessings and oaths spoken in their honor, they touch their foreheads together, and in the final echoes of the last words, they bind themselves with the final act of a kiss. They have shared many kisses before this moment, but here: here is a kiss that feels like a beginning, or the first rays of sunshine, or a brand new dawn. They are man and wife. Queen and her King Consort. Varda places the raven crown twin of her own coronet upon her husband’s brow and names him her right hand, her master and servant in equal measure. She looks on into the deafening crowd—and holds on to Quinton’s hand just a little bit tighter than before. BRIGHTSTONE MANOR > CAL ETERIS click to enlarge. map credits to @Csl a little night music ; Brightstone Manor is a stunning sight in the cool spring evening, glittering lanterns and elaborate glass chandeliers brightening up the night as a sea of visitors come to the shores of the wedding party grounds. It has only been newly opened to the public as a luxurious event center, its opulent space inaugurated by the extravagant banquet of the Queen herself, of all people, and so the staff of the castle are at their very best behavior. Every speck of dust is banished to the ether, every piece of silverware polished to shining glory, and the food and drink are served in a generous overflow. The dining room is full of tables laden with plates filled to the brim with delicious food: prime fare for any food lover’s tastes, both gourmet and gourmand alike. Sweet music fills the halls, an underlying backdrop to harmonize well with the constant bouts of conversation flitting in the air. The Queen and her husband are happily welcomed by the crowd upon their arrival to the castle, taking their place at the head of the Great Hall where they greet guests and thank them for attending. The siblings of House Hildebrand flit around the halls in scattered groups: Jasper and his family are in the study, Aspen and Esme are dancing joyously in the Great Hall, and Nairne and Merel are playing chess together in the game room. It has been an eventful long day, and yet, the clock has yet to strike seven in the evening. The night is young, and so there is more that remains to be seen in the hours to come. . . • • •
  2. NOTICE River Raiders Svanhild Quest The Queendom of Svanhild, Ursa Madeum Canterstone, Symarron River Use only as aesthetic reference and not for technical details of setting. Actual image of IC location currently unknown. The Shattered Ingot, Canterstone The Iron Captain The dark ale filled Wallace’s mouth with earthy notes, roasted almonds and chocolate, with a faint orange finish as it slid down his throat. He set the mug down on the tabletop to turn the page of a book held up by one hand, his eyebrow arcing at what he had just read. Ser Edwart Valenhelm, the Trident Knight, had just picked up his own tankard to guzzle back dark ale of earthen notes. Wallace smiled at what could not have been coincidence. Yet another aspect we share in common. I wonder what your wine is? He may yet discover, having only read the first twenty pages of The Hills of the Hawk. So far, the novel had gripped his gaze, with its author painting a vivid picture of a living and breathing world not so dissimilar from the real one, if rather lacking on the magic and technological complexities between nations and states. What it had in common were kingdoms and empires, swords and shields, war and peace, the brutality in achieving both, the romance of death and the knights in scarred armor where the shining ones had no place. On at least one occasion the reader had to remember that the words on the page were not what he himself had written, even if the prose was uncannily familiar. After my own heart, or is it my soul? He didn’t waste another thought on himself as he dove back into the story, where two souls were sharing drinks and visions for the future. His own tavern’s entrance gave way just then as Wallace looked up from his corner table to receive the latest and loudest newcomer; a man drenched from head to toe in rain, without a hat or coat to his name, roaring about his condition. The tavern was already a lively resort to escape the downpour, though Wallace wagered that it was no less lively in clear weather every evening besides this one, but this patron had all but drowned out the chatter and had almost silenced the violin. And robbed me of my read. Wallace’s eyes lingered on the bearded fool as he vigorously scratched water from his head before erupting into laughter. Apparently, all it had taken to shut him up was for his friend in waiting to receive him. The two exchanged handshakes and found a table and that was the end of it. But not for Wallace. He watched the man sit down with guffaw and without a care in the world, oblivious to having interrupted the tavern and even startled some of its guests. It was all Wallace could do to put his book down with a sigh and watch and wonder. The Shattered Ingot had returned to normal, but here was one of the tavern's patrons who was no longer in the mood to read. Settling himself with a swig of ale, he looked about the tavern and settled for studying its occupants. The barkeep was serving drinks left and right across the counter, servers skirting to and fro as they danced around tables; a few dwarves were smoking pipes in front of the roaring fireplace, and Wallace might have attested that they were making it their life’s purpose to ignore the stage where a live band had set up and an elven singer had taken the lead. She was a sight to behold, and if those words could be said of most elves then they were especially so in her case. Long golden hair flowed down her back while braids of it framed her forehead and around like a crown of gold. Her eyes, were they blue and purple? The observer could not discern from this distance, but her red lips were full and complemented her shimmering green dress. Wallace leaned back as he watched and listened, but all it took was a blink to realize that he was being watched as well. He shifted his gaze toward a table near the stage. Sat at it was a man dressed in white and a blue beret. A short glass was before him as he turned it absentmindedly. There might have been water or vodka within it, but what was for certain was that he was looking at Wallace. So Wallace looked back. And who might you be? It was the other man who lost the staring contest. An assassin? Wallace felt a corner of his lips tug at the notion, but he didn't buy it. The fellow had an aura about him that eschewed such shadowy vibes as assassination, but shadowy he certainly was. Like a soul swollen with secrets. Sipping on his ale, Wallace savored the nutty orange aftertaste, and reasoned that the blue-hatted man who had stared his way was just an interested party; but Wallace was only interested in one party: the party that was hiring. Quite likely, here one was. The town of Canterstone was as known for its exports of ore and metalwork as its mercenaries and adventurers who were beckoned forth to heed the call for help and hear the call for pay. Wallace had not been in the Queendom of Svanhild for long but, before even stepping foot on its soil, he had known that the River Symarron was littered with pirates. Canterstone was one locale who offered a reward for the hunting of those pirates. And what do you know? Here sits a pirate hunter, Captain Wallace Ambrose, and suddenly I'm feeling hungry.
  3. Salty wind blows in her face, making Shoko glad that she’s decided to tie her hair up this morning. Yesterday she’d learned that having her hair loose is most impractical and uncomfortable as their vessel crosses the waters. Lupin had laughed at her that night when she’d found it a mess of tangles which had been almost impossible to tame. (She kicked his shin retaliation, but that only made him laugh even more, even if he had been jumping on one leg while clutching the other close, but whatever.) She’d never traveled in a ship like this one before—in Japan she rarely left land, and when she did it was on smaller boats, with sails. This has been a new experience, though one Shoko doesn’t know if she enjoys. At least seasickness didn’t affect her, unlike many other unfortunate souls in the ship. Her bleeding heart—Lupin’s words, not hers—made Shoko open up her medical kit and put her talents to work treating many a passenger that looked queasy and green. She’s not getting paid for it, but it doesn’t bother her. Her salary is more than generous enough to cover some cheap herbs. The trip took two days, but they’ve finally made it to land. Shoko hums and covers her eyes, protecting them from the red-and-gold glare of the sun as the ship docks. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a raspy voice says and Shoko turns, taking her eyes away from the picturesque view of Mount Egon and the reddish tint of the clouds above it to look at the older woman standing behind her. Her long graying hair is in a braid that falls down her slightly hunched back, and her light brown skin is riddled with laughing lines. Her name is Yassmin, one of the people Shoko helped with her medicine. “It is,” Shoko answers, looking back towards the coast and beyond. “A bit darker than I expected, but still pretty.” “It’s the ash in the air,” Yassmin explains with a sigh. “I wish my daughter lived in Cal Eteris—I could move there if she did, live closer to her, but no. And Caigh Ayrd just doesn’t agree with my old lungs,” she jokes, though she can’t hide the hint of wistfulness behind her words. Then her mood picks up. “At least this time the sea travel was made more comfortable thanks to you, Miss Shoko.” The woman is about the same height as Shoko, so she doesn't have to look up when she smiles. “Thank you again for that, you're very kind. And I hope you find what you’re looking for.” “You’re very welcome,” Shoko says with a smile of her own. “Have fun meeting your new grandson, ma’am.” Aged eyes twinkle. “Oh, I will, I will! Take care of yourself, dear, and of your friend.” “Will do,” Shoko answers, amused. Not that Lupin actually needs it, but it’s the spirit of the thing. Shoko looks at her retreating back until Yassmin disappears from view, then sighs. Turning back towards the port, she plants her elbows on the handrail and then rests her chin on her hands. “Find what we’re looking for, huh,” she mutters. “If only I knew what that is.” Soft steps approach her and then there’s Lupin, with their luggage and a smile on his face. “So we’re here,” Shoko says before he can speak. “Where to now, bossman?” ( @eggsinabasket @vielle )
  4. After the fall of the Uldwars... Ingrid had come off of Mt. Ego a defeated Mage and even worse...unemployed. After the fall of the House of Uldwar, losing her student Luis and having no home to return to, Ingrid looked out to other areas far, far out of the way where she could study what had happened to the land once the Elemental had died. It felt like the whole of Ursa Madeum had been turned upside down, the magics uncontrolled seeming throughout this kingdom of Svanhild. Almost everything had been wiped from what was left of the Uldwars save for few who had memory of them. That and she had to evacuate and abandon the beautiful school she had left behind after becoming the HeadMaster, sending students to one of the safer branches far, far away. Left in a burning wasteland with magic out of control, Ingrid had fled. Without an Elemental in place, she would never be able to return to Misral...and with her ties to the old family that had ruled there and having fought the Oathsworn from trying to kill it...Ingrid had gained an unfavorable reputation. Her noble family had been wiped away, everything of her past employment now under ash and flames. The only choice she had was to run, get away and not look back. Her son Camille had started school already under Kalmuli's care...it left her more time to figure out what to do. Find an elemental? Find a new noble family to serve? Her travels had lead her to find about a city of Fae that lay behind the Fenwylds. It was a place where she could recover and give her some peace while she regained herself....get back to her roots. Being Fae herself, an elf, she wouldn't have much trouble getting through the Fenwylds...but she wasn't so sure about her sanity. Ingrid had made herself a base camp outside of the Fenwyld to give herself some time to ready herself. Gathering materials for potions, meditating and reading over old manuscripts...but it was just delaying the inevitable. She would have to go where the other Fae wandered and she wasn't sure if even just being an Elf would be enough. "Gods...What am I doing..."Ingrid said, bringing her hands up to her face after having been at a mortar and pestle grinding herbs for more potions. "What in the seven hells am I doing..." Ingrid brought her hands down away fro her face, sniffing and wiping at her face while she sat alone in her tent. "I can't keep just...putting it off..."She said to herself, looking through the gap in her tent that had a full view of the beginning of the Fenwyld. She could hear whispers...things checking her out, finding out what she was doing. What kind of creatures or Fae they were, she didn't know...but she hadn't slept in three days and ate very little from it. The last thing she wanted to do in this state was to have something approach her with the intent to do harm...least she lose herself again. "Tomorrow has to be it...Tomorrow...or I just...find somewhere else. Ilvor can't be the only Fae city in Svanhild..."
  5. "I'm going ashore!" Harelia yelled back, throwing her vine-engraved staff over her shoulder and a parting wave of her hand to whoever was watching her walk down the gangplank. A few crewmen and women hollered distant goodbyes as they sealed up the ship and prepared to disembark themselves. Their magnanimous captain had bought them all tickets to a theater performance on the fancy Silkflair Lane but Harelia, ever the wanderer, sought to explore the town on her own before the night-time show. As she exited the docks, she spied the dejected figures of her crewmates Bruno and Jessibel returning from their abridged shore leave. Though she greeted them cheerfully they had little cheer to return. "Can't you speak to the captain for us?" they asked mournfully. Harelia frowned sympathetically. "I already have, but she wouldn't hear of it. And frankly, I agree with her." The pair were flabbergasted and made scoffing noises but Harelia waved their protests aside. "Come on. If your lovers' quarrels keep interrupting crew dinner then this is what you have to expect." "It wasn't so bad, was it?" Jessibel sighed. Harelia frowned. "Do you know how long it took to get the prune stains out of my white pants? You threw our table at him Jessibel!" "I did?" she looked stricken by what she'd done. It was even more impressive when you remembered that the tables were bolted to the floor. Bruno shook his head. "But I caught it!" he said, omitting that he had then broken the table in half in fury. The two of them had been born in barbarian tribes, stolen, and raised in a traveling circus before serving on the Prosperina. Their fury was as useful in battle as it was inconvenient at dinner. Now it was Hariela's turn to shake her head. "Not good enough, Bruno. It's better that you stay on the ship. Imagine what would happen if you had one of your rows at the theater? In front of all the captain's noble friends? Think of how ashamed she would be! Are you even thinking of her, or just of yourselves?" Harelia didn't like scolding the crew, least of all innocent Bruno and Jessibel. They hadn't gotten the chance to grow up like normal people, and they were forever childlike because of it. When she thought of how two sweet people could be so mistreated, she felt like breaking a table herself. "No!" they both shouted at once. The thought of betraying the trust of their captain was painful to their pure souls, as Harelia knew it would be. At once she could see they understood, and she smiled at them. They soon parted, with Bruno and Jessibel headed for their dull night guarding the Prosperina, and Harelia entering Cal Eternis. The sheer magnitude of the city always astounded her. It was the sort of city that made you believe you were living in a golden age. The streets were clean, the people good and cheerful with pockets full of coins, and there was food everywhere. She liked to walk through the streets and smell all the cooking meat until she couldn't take it anymore and bought some. Today she bought spiced ribs and got her hands shamelessly greasy eating them. She tried to find a fountain, but the streets were so crowded she could barely see five feet from herself. With a start, she dodged a column of soldiers, whose first rank officer tipped his hat at her in apology and smiled. She smiled back, but he wasn't allowed to slow his march and she turned with a laugh into the crowd of shoppers pouring in and out of the market. The market was somehow even more colorful and lively than the rest of the city, with bright banners flapping in the warm mid-day wind and everybody talking all at once, all the time. Once in the market Harelia did what she usually did: she spent all her money. She bought: -A cape -Two pairs of white pants -Four apple tarts (two for her, two for the captain) -Six boxes of Vanoran tea (not nearly enough, just all the guy had) -Ten apples (for her pet, Apollon) -Three adventure books (to read to Bruno and Jessibel) -A fancy customized scimitar (to hang on her wall) After arranging the delivery of all these items her last purchase was a colorful foreign bird, who she released at once and, with her magic, convinced to sit on the end of her staff so she could chat with him as she continued to sight-see. She learned about his homeland and taught him about human cities. The bird found that he liked statues, though Harelia wasn't quite sure he'd understood what they were for. Nonetheless, he was a good companion. Though glad to be free, the bird confessed that he had fallen in love with another of the birds in the market, and so as the afternoon waned Harelia bought the foreign bird's lover, and freed them both. The female bird flew away at once without a chirp in the male's direction. "Go get her!" Harelia encouraged, as the male bird squawked in dismay. She stood in the market, watching and laughing as the birds darted away. @KittyvonCupcake @vielle
  6. • • • It’s a hot day in the city of Cal Eteris, warm enough to soothe even the coldest of dispositions, but Daisy Featherbee sadly finds it is not easy to unruffle her distressed fur, not after her assistants have overruled her when it comes to personal retrievement of materials needed for her fletcher work. Oh, she knows she can retrieve them herself. She’s travelled far and wide before, even reaching the courts of that mysterious land beyond the reaches of Veilcrest Fell. Why, her bravery rivals that of Evanora Evandagger herself! Why should she not be allowed to retrieve the very items she needs to forge her craft? It’s ridiculous, if not for the fact that everyone from the neighboring store owners to the bloody city guard has advised her that the best course of action for the betterment of her business is to delegate tasks to others. This shall include any future acquisition of raw materials for her arrows “Honestly. I can do things myself,” she grumbles under her breath, sweeping dirt and furballs into the dustpan as she crouches under the store counter. When she straightens up to throw away the gathered mess, the bells attached to the front door chime like tiny songbirds. Daisy wipes her hands clean with a towel before hurrying over to the front of the building, smiling politely in greeting to the people assembled at the doorstep. “Oh, hello! Do come in, come in!” She beckons towards the hallway leading further into her shop. “I assume you’re the interested parties looking to go on a quest for griffin feathers for me? Please, do make yourself welcome here. I’d like to get a good look at all of you before you set out, if that’s alright?” @L E V I A T H A N @Zigzag @Houndy Poochykins
  7. something is unfamiliar ; Unlike most of her siblings, Aspen does not have a deep, yearning sense for what lies past the wild seas of Ursa Madeum. She’s long learned that the comforts of home are what suits her best, and so she does not cast her mind towards things beyond her home, most of the time. But then: Varda is to be married, and she wants only the very best, for her dearest sister. She sends a letter to the Fantas-Menagerie weeks and weeks and weeks before the wedding is about to take place, hoping against all hope she’ll get an answer. She doesn’t think she will, however, which is why when a missive from a Miss Idora Metka Cet'ce makes its way onto her desk, she stares a bit in abject confusion, wondering if it’s even real. Aspen’s heard of this wandering collection of wildlife in what they say is a flower-shaped metallic vessel in the sky, and it is so unbelievably strange that she just had to seek the proprietors out. She thinks her sister might like something grandiose and unique to celebrate the Aspect of Mind for her marriage rites. And perhaps most of all, somewhat closer to the vest—she wishes to see something new, something she’s never before seen at home, if only to drive deeper the point that home is in the comforting and the familiar. When she finally gets to lay her eyes on the extensive gallery of fauna and flora, the likes of which are beyond even her scientific imagination, however: she almost embarasses herself in front of the Menagerie’s founder like an utter dunce. Gods, but she’s enraptured. She just barely resists the urge to announce it to Varda, just barely resists the urge to tell her in order to hear the giddy joy that’ll be in her sister’s voice, just to let it seep deeper into her own skin, mingle with the butterflies in her stomach as she breathes, just breathes, and share her wonder and excitement. She’s glad she doesn’t tell her sister immediately, because the moment Varda lays eyes on the plans and the tall elven woman Aspen brings with her to the castle for discussions, she embarrasses herself instead by offering to hug the stranger herself. Miss Idora had politely refused with a smile, however; Aspen’s never going to let her sister forget such a social mishap. Miss Idora is gentle guardian and keen operator both, and she immediately assesses the best possible way for the Menagerie to enter Ursa Madeum. A sprawling circus tent is set up in the empty fields just outside Cal Eteris, and though Aspen is a bit concerned as to where all the plants and animals go, she had needed only to enter the tent to realize it is far bigger within than without. When the Menagerie is finally ready just days before the grand wedding, Aspen finds herself spending more and more time just gazing at the strange creatures inside the different habitats. She makes friends with the odd Silfeling and Moogle running around taking care of the wildlife, and it is through them that she learns more about these foreign children of nature. (Somewhere within, the Spark grows ever brighter.) And yes—perhaps new things aren’t quite so bad. FANTAS-MENAGERIE TENT > CAL ETERIS click to enlarge. borrowed from @-Lilium-'s lore of Fantas-Menagerie. to know the new ; The grand opening of the Fantas-Menagerie to the general populace of Svanhild is a sight to behold: the looks of astonishment and bewilderment amidst the commonfolk are lined with curiosity and wonder. There is a constant stream of bodies flowing in and out of the grand circus tent, bright smiles on all those who come out of the tent on their way elsewhere into the city. Ah, but that is not the main event, this eve of the wedding ceremony. Idora Metka Cet'ce stands tall on a small stage, overlooking the participants of the scavenger hunt and a crowd of eager spectators. This is but the first time the Aspect of Mind has ever been done so publicly by the royal house, and for it to be hosted by peculiar, mysterious foreigners makes the event even more magnetizing. “Greetings, brave explorers,” she smiles, catching the gaze of each and every one of them before she continues. “The prize set before you is a beautiful relic, but the true prize, I believe, is what you shall find within the exhibits we have in the Menagerie. I ask only that you treat all of these creatures with respect, and us caretakers with patient consideration.” She beckons each of the participants forward, handing over a small envelope to them. “Within these envelopes is the first riddle you will have to solve. Be quick of mind and feet; you shall need them in this hunt!” And with that, the crowd clapping and cheering them on, they are off. • • •
  8. THE AMPHITHEATRE OF ELYSIA > CAL ETERIS | DESCRIPTION Many who visit the Amphitheatre of Elysia notice a strange occurrence that happens fairly often. When standing within the high walls of this massive structure, one can hear the phantom roar of a thousand feet stomping against the stones, a thousand voices lost to the wind as they yell victory or anticipation or despair. Beyond these frequent phenomena, there is tangible magic in the air. The mages and druids that live in Silkflair Lane, those folk who have abandoned lives of adventure and danger for drama and entertainment: they provide a unique twist to the otherwise mundane scenery of the stadium. With the flick of many arcane hands and the murmurings of legion-strong spells, the backdrop of the arena can turn into a simulation of anything in the world, even things entirely foreign to a local’s eye: a snowy forest, a giant spider’s nest, the innards of an active volcano, the depths of a darkened mountain chasm. With such strange, wondrous circumstances a staple of the Amphitheatre, it is no wonder many flock to the hundreds upon hundreds of viewing seats it houses, clamoring for a place within the oftentimes crushing sea of bodies to view the spectacles it hosts within. | MAP map credits to @Csl | CURRENT EVENTS The Queen's Wedding Tournament
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