((Their is a sign up, and has said in the opening post, all are welcome at any time James. Sorry, I neglected to reply. I thought you were just being courteous with the profile posts. (which I am neglecting terribly.) Also, on a side note, I'm a dummy because I totally got my Sea's mixed up. 13loodz you are absolutely right, we are sailing east through the guardian's Sea. My apologies.
I will edit my posts, and I will also draw up a more thorough description of Krizar City for page one as I create a profile for it.))
General Bryce 'Battle Falcon' Farrister - Demacia, Farrister Manor - Day 1, Late Morning
The sun shone brightly over Demacia that day, dimly illuminating the main bedroom of Manor Farrister despite the heavy curtains drawn shut at the windows. Snoring loudly, sprawled over the big, king-sized bed with one arm draped over his eyes was none other than the man himself - Bryce Farrister, also known as the Battle Falcon, proud General of the Demacian Military and Dragonslayer.
A loud knock was heard at the door, the butler signalling the time for breakfast. Bryce instinctively kicked off the duvet, still asleep and snoring. A second, more insistent knock was heard at the door, this time the voice of a middle-aged man calling out.
"Good morning, my lord. It's time for breakfast."
" ... my lord? Are you awake?"
The butler let out a loud sigh.
"My lord, need I remind you what happened the last time you were late for a meeting with the ambassador?"
Bryce's eyes opened instantly in a pained expression, the memory still freshly imprinted on his brain despite more than six months having passed from that incident.
He had overslept and led the ambassador to believe he wouldn't show up - of course, when he did, the diplomat had already engaged into less-than-diplomatic activities with his concubine. He would still receive the occasional expensive bottle of spirits as a way to keep his silence, but Bryce made sure not to let the word spread around - one traumatized man was enough.
" ... Thank you, Otis, I'm awake." he groaned, turning on his side while closing his eyes shut again. He reached out to the other side of the bed, expecting it to be warm and be greeted with the image of a tangled mass of black hair, of a pair of smoky-grey eyes staring back into his own, softly whispering a good morning before they'd share a kiss.
Instead, the bed was cold and empty except for himself - as it always was for the past fourteen years.
"Damn." he muttered. "Another day without her ..."
Bryce flung his legs at the edge of the bed, the cold floor underneath his soles waking him up completely. He looked towards the window - perched on his stand, with his head snugly tucked underneath his wing was his sleeping falcon, Boro.
"Come on, boy." he called out as he walked towards the chamber pot for his business. "Wake up, Boro, it's a new day to be living!"
The falcon pulled out his head from underneath his wing and let out a low, out-drawn screech, seeming like a yawn. He stretched his wings in an impressive display, the length span wider than Bryce's shoulders.
The Farristers have always been associated with falcons, having bonded with these birds of prey since before the dawn of the city-states like Demacia or Noxus. In those ancient times, their ancestors could understand and even speak with any avian creature, though the magic had began to fade through the ages. The bond with the falcons was still there, though - it would keep running through the Farrister blood, as well as the limited ability to understand and communicate with falcons.
Boro screeched again, this time more loudly and with a seemingly questioning tone.
"I'm sorry Boro, we can't go hunting today. I have to meet with those diplomats all over again, and then this lad's steward asked me to train him a little bit - too full of life, apparently. Needs a veteran to teach him some humility. Dolu, I think his name was? No, that was the steward - the Fulkra boy. I think I saw him before, though I'll have to see him to remember."
The falcon voiced his displeasure through an ear-scratching shriek.
"I know I promised it for more than a month now, boy, but I have a busy schedule. I can't just grow a pair of wings and take flight at a moment's notice, you know." He sighed. "I wish I could, though - I'll always envy you for that, buddy."
Bryce walked towards the perch and extended his bare arm for Boro to grip on - the falcon securely wrapped his talons around his forearm without harming the general. Bryce ruffled his chest feathers affectionately.
"How about this - we'll go hunting when Tybresa comes home, eh? Just us three, the Falcon Family."
Boro squawked a question to which Bryce rolled his eyes.
"No, the hummingbirds won't tag along. Tybresa will keep them busy in the solarium, I'm sure."
He walked towards the window and drew open the curtains before he addressed his falcon with a serious look.
"But before that will happen, you'll have to keep your end of the bargain."
Boro squawked bewildered.
"DON'T **** on anyone I know - I've had enough complaints about that. Or just don't **** on anyone important - actually, don't **** on anyone at all. Stop ruining people's days like that."
The falcon cawed repeatedly, seeming to laugh at Bryce in a mocking fashion as he opened the window. Boro spread his wings wide open and flew out towards the sky. Bryce stared enviously at the distancing dot on the clear blue sky stretched open over the golden city of Demacia.
He was awoken from his reverie by a woman's nearby laugh - a quick glance around the neighborhood and he spotted a group of four young ladies directly across his window, giggling and whispering to each other. They hid their smiles behind their matching silken fans, looking at him with coy and sultry looks. Bryce felt a red warmth creeping over his cheeks as he realized he was standing at the window bare-chested.
"Ha ha ha, ladies - this is the last time you'll see the Battle Falcon in his full glory." he shouted jokingly before closing the window and quickly drawing the curtains. He could hear the loud, girlish laughing from across the street.
"... Hawkward." Bryce murmured, walking towards the water basin to wash off the blush from his cheeks ...
Otis was standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in his usual frock and black waistcoat as he impatiently looked at his watch. Bryce finally made his appearance at the top of the stairs, dressed in his military uniform.
"Good morning, Otis. Lovely day, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is, my lord. Especially when you're not running late."
Bryce laughed. "If it's not my daughter to scold me about my lack of punctuality, then it's my butler. Can't a man get a break once in a while?"
Otis smiled slyly. "I do believe it's the first time you actually got breakfast at a sensible hour, General."
"Well played, Otis. Well played."
The general and his steward walked towards the dining hall, where the table was already fully decked with the meals that would break that day's fast. Bryce promptly reached out for a slice of toast and some bacon. He chewed several times before he addressed Otis again.
"Do you have any news of my daughter yet, Otis?"
"Actually, I do. A letter arrived last night, but you were already asleep at your desk. I felt it would be best that I showed it to you this morning."
Otis pulled out an envelope which Bryce promptly accepted. He kept chewing the last bits of his meal before he broke the purple wax seal of the Institute and read the letter.
"Damn - she'll be arriving later than the usual date. No matter ... make sure her room is dusted and awaiting her arrival in a week's time."
Otis humbly bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
Bryce stood up from the table, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he headed out. "Wish me luck, Otis - between the boring speeches the ambassador must have prepared and the traumatizing mental image of him with an apple in his mouth, I'm certain I'll have one hell of a time."
Otis abstained from laughing, but he couldn't hide the mirth from his smile. "As you say, General Bryce - best of luck."
The general let out a loud guffaw as he wrapped his sword belt around his waist, his sword, Falconwing, never missing from his side. He opened the doors of the manor and stepped out in a hurried pace, realizing the ladies from earlier that morning were still present. He would have to make a run for it if he wanted to avoid being seen.
(( And so it begins! Had a lot of fun with this, experimenting new ways of writing. I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I did, as long as you are not demoralized by the size. I'll tone it down as we keep advancing - HOPEFULLY. ))
Damian "Devil" Marketh - Ship Marketh, GUARDIAN'S Sea - Day 1, Evening
When the pesky little stowaway swapped his pants for a skirt a very noticable, irritated scowl appeared. Even a couple feet away the girl would hear his teeth grinding as he contemplated tossing her overboard just then. The moment he raised his hand at her, she was gone and in her place a small sailor. "Find the little wench! I'm growing tired of this, you sorry sods!" The crew immediately scattered at his order, the man wearing the bushy pants that belonged to the Captain approaching. "Uh, sir, did ya wants these back?"
Devil's eye twitched as he slowly turned his gaze to the sailor. One of his hands curled up into a tight fist, he raised it and bounced it off the mans head violently. The poor sap staggered, completely disoriented until Marketh lifted him up over head, "Cap, Cap, Cap, no, no, no! Come on! I was just--" The sailor would be asked later to inform him how cold the water was today. A loud guffaw came from Marketh until he sighed, "I'd of wanted em' back, you bloody twit. Stupid..."
A few minutes pass and any of the crew return, all reporting that the girl is nowhere to be seen. That is until a loud thunk comes from behind the Captain. He looks over his shoulder and sees the wretch sitting on the crate, she's smiling, taunting him. A small smirk comes over him, "If impressin' me is yer goal, lass, you'd do best to not try and humiliate me. Some sense goes a long way, crab legs." Crab legs being a term he used for those who were found in and out of water. "Next time ya push me, I'll be pushin back, d'ya understand me drift? Give me a drink and make yerself useful."
"CAPTAIN!" The lookout called from the crows nest. Damian looked up to see the man with his spyglass lowered and pointing far off into the horizon, opposite the sun. "Ship ahead!"
Lucius Fulkra - Demacia, Fulkra Manor - Day 1, Early Afternoon
Upon reaching his room, Lucius quickly went to wash up in a cool bath to relieve some of the muscle stress from training so persistently. After about half an hour of relax, he came to his room to find a light gray tunic, a sky blue vest, black trousers and a pair of black dress shoes prepared for him. The tunic, he decided, was not good and he changed it to black as well. All that would stand out was his vest, which he reluctantly accepted. A few minutes into changing, his steward returns with a knock on his chamber door.
Dolu poked his head in, lifting his glasses with his pointer fnger before entering with a bow. "Lord Lucius, I might have neglected to mention that General Farrister will be gracing us with his presence for the coming meetng. Also, he has graciously granted me a small favor in your regards. It is a surprise, my lord, so do be courteous to the General. It may reflect upon you later." Dolu said with a somewhat mischeivous smile.
The look gave Lucius slight pause, moreso than the late notice of the General's presence. He sighed as he he finished buttoning his vest, grabbing a gold chain from his dress stand and clipping it around his neck. When finished, he glared at Dolu, "Always a trickster, aren't you Dolu? Very well," Lucius declared after Dolu shrugged apologetically. "Make the preparations. The General is not known for his punctuality, or so I'm told. I'll await him with the representatives downstairs."
"Actually, my lord. They too have learned of this lack of gracious timing and are also late. You'll be waiting alone." Dolu grinned before closing the door behind himself, hasteful to be out of Lucius' presence before a steady stream of curses passed his lips.
Roughly an hour and a half of waiting pass and finally ambassadors from Bandle, Piltover, Ionia and even Zaun and Noxus arrive. The Noxian being last and like the Ionian, in a pair. Their entourages were ordered to wait a small distance away and were arranged every courtesy in their wait. And naturally, they were supervised bu household guards to make sure no intercity incidents broke out under Lucius' care.
Now, they simply awaited the General.
((Btw, I posted a profile fr Krizar City with my characters given thus far.))
General Bryce 'Battle Falcon' Farrister - Demacia, Vicinity of House Fulkra - Day 1, Early Afternoon
Bryce was cursing his luck as he side-stepped into an alley and leaned over the wall, breathing heavily.
"By the Falcon's Feathers, I am not the athlete I used to be, but how can those unholy women run so fast on those heels?!"
He stopped breathing as he heard the clicking of heels approaching the alley he was currently taking refuge in. He quickly looked around for something to hide behind until the danger passed. He spotted a big container of a nearby shop and quickly stepped behind it.
If Boro would see me now, he'd laugh his feathers off. Bryce thought. General Battle Falcon - charging head first against a dragon but running like a coward when it comes to frenzied ladies.
He could hear their voices, though not their exact words. They expressed their disappointment at losing their target through whines and stamping their heels on the floor. After what seemed to last for an eternity, Bryce let out a relieved sigh, hearing them depart.
The container he used to keep himself hidden was made of some reflective material. Bryce looked himself through, arranging his disheveled hair and dusting off his clothes. He couldn't help but wonder what those women wanted from him - he's not the young, strapping man he used to be.
Must be the blonde hair and blue eyes. he thought. Even Marcelaine fell for those boyish charms.
The memory of his wife brought a sudden wave of sadness over his thoughts - fourteen years and he barely changed since then. Their daughter did, though - the quiet, prodigal child who loved to draw flowers and play the violin became a high-esteemed Steward of the League and a powerful mage. He still couldn't believe it.
He checked the sword resting at his hip - at least Falconwing was also unchanged by the passage of time, the crack left on its surface by the dragon's tooth still there despite the countless attempts of the blacksmiths to repair it.
He glanced towards the sky - even though it was hard to precisely tell the time by the sun's movement, Bryce knew that he was late for the ambassadorial meeting. He let out a groan before he quickly upped his pace - it wasn't too far away to Manor Fulkra where he was now, but he would still late.
Damn it. he thought. My daughter would give me a good scolding if she were to see me now.
The guards greeted him respectfully as Bryce made his way through the open doors of the House Fulkra, promptly directing him to the room he was expected. Luckily for him, they didn't point out how late he was.
Let the games begin. he thought.
Before he could get the chance to enter the room, however, he was greeted by the Steward of House Fulkra, Dolu.
((Ninja edit because Luparis made me look bad thanks to the continuity tidbits. QQ ))
Tixxy "Crab Legs" Savage - Ship Marketh, Conqueror Sea - Day 1, Later Morning
Tixxy smirked at being called crab legs, and decided at that moment, since she'd not shared her name, to go by that while on this journey. A memorable lie, the best kind in her opinion. She reached down between the baggy pants she wore, and intended to remove shortly since they still smelled like stinky ginger sailor, grabbed two bottles, tossing one up at the captain. The headache from overusing her ability was setting in, so she planned to drink it away. Weaseling the cork out with one of her knives, she took a deep whiff of the heavy hitting liquor. She had to be careful. A drunk lass, alone, on a ship full of men, wasn't exactly the safest of circumstances. A few swills later and the headache dissipated, and her muscles relaxed.
Deciding not to get on the captain's bad side, she moved to get up and start learning how to operate a ship. But a shout from the crow's nest alerted her to another ship arriving, eliciting a smile upon her feminine face. Opportunity. Quickly she shed the poor guy's clothing, now in her own tight combat leathers. Light as a breath, she quickly moved to the edge of the Marketh, to catch sight of the incoming ship. Men that weren't busy handling the sails and tack were rushing to the side, trying to see if the ship was a threat or a chance at treasure.
One bold man pressed his body up against her back, placing one hand on the rail, and another on her exposed stomach, placed dangerously low. "Hey sweetheart, a raid ain't no place for a lass like you, how's bout I keep you safe in mah bunk?" Fast as a striking cobra, her daggers were drawn, and her body turned facing the man, one blade resting a fish hair away from his groin. She was staring death into his eyes, his blood running cold, "Do not make a sound, or the only lass sharing your bed will be you." She then slammed her other dagger down into his hand on the rail, the dagger burying itself halfway through hand and wood. The man's face contorted in pain, as he struggled to keep a howl within. "Good boy, try that again, and..," she proceeded to tap his groin with the tip of the dagger, causing him to flinch slightly. She then pulled her dagger free from his hand, and all the men at the rail gave her a wide berth, as their companion disappeared to nurse his wound. She looked to the sky, wishing it weren't so bright, as the ships meandered closer together.
Eredale and Lutecia - Ionian East Coast, Port town - Day 1, Evening
Slowly closing the last few meters left until dry land, Eredale's arcane board grazed the lightly splashing waves - he could feel the small, salty droplets of ocean water touch his face and hands as he prepared to land. Stepping off the vanishing arcane board, the mage's shoes sunk softly into the dry coastal sand with a slight rustle. He stopped for a moment to listen to the joined whisper of the nearby forest's foliage, the waves, and the sand, and looked around.
"Now then, where would I go - the forest, or the beach?" Eredale spoke out loud to himself.
"Why?" A soft voice suddenly responded to him; even though it came from the same spot where the mage stood, he wasn't startled, but vice versa, he expected the question.
"If I go through the forest, I'll dirty my shoes; and if I go down the beach, I'll get sand in them - in the end, it's all the same." Eredale looked down on something small to his side, grinning.
"The beach will be easier and faster." The voice answered again.
Shrugging a bit, the mage turned around to face the coastline, and looked forwards, where the small port town was. He didn't land too far from it, but just enough for him not to be seen. Now that he wasn't flying anymore, so as outlandish as he looked, no one would bother him about it in a port town anyway. Breathing the salty ocean air, Eredale placed his hands in his coat's pockets, and began walking.
The seaside stroll took Eredale just about an hour - despite his predictions, his shoes ended up sand-free, and yet the soft surface slowed down his pace. The sun was almost set when he finally stepped near the first wooden buildings of the small town. Tracing the small streets to the main paved road, he picked out wooden signs near buildings, looking for an inn where he could learn a bit about the recent events. Soon enough, he had found such a place - not too run down, not too extravagant, it was a teahouse built of cobblestone and wood, contrasting slightly with the overall architecture.
The mage stopped for a moment, considering the place, and then nodded approvingly. Stepping decisively towards the entrance, he walked inside... an overshadowed alley just near the place, disappearing out of sight just for a few moments.
And as he had returned, holding his hand was a second person - it was a plain-looking girl, wearing unremarkable traditional clothes of the region, her hair braided and rolled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Immediately after, they walked through the entrance.
"...Welcome, dear customers," - the attendant, a girl in her twenties, was slightly startled to see an armed foreigner enter the shop, and stuttered slightly, - "W-what would you like?"
"Tea if I may, best that you have. And a newspaper, if you have any." Eredale smiled reassuringly, hoping to ease the burden on the attendant who immediately scurried away.
Looking around for free spots, he also examined other guests - just a few elderly people, a buff man with worked hands (a fisherman, most probably), a monk, and a person with messy hair and a pair of swords at his side, a ronin by his looks. Leading his companion, Eredale took the cornermost table under the lamp, and sat down on the cushion, relaxing for the first time of the day. It was an open teahouse, so he could still feel the breeze passing through the room, and look outside - only the inner rooms were closed and warm, but that was of no concern to him, really.
Waiting patiently for his request, the mage leaned on the wall and idly looked at the people passing outside. Where would he go from now on?..
Damian "Devil" Marketh - Ship Marketh, Guardian Sea - Day 1, Late Morning
A roar of laughter could be heard from the wheel when Tixxy humiliated the shiphand, he starts to smack his side as the little weasel backs away in shame. His eyes begin to water when the man backs away, hands up, favoring the one with the knife wound. When finished, Damian bites into the cork of the bottle Tixxy gave to him and pulls it out, then spits it onto the deck.
"That lads... is not how you woo a lady. And by the looks of it, she ain't a lady in the mind of bein' woo'd. So, leave'r be fer now, eh?" He wandered to the ships railing and threw his massive arms over and leaned heavily on them. He stifled a yawn as he looked upon the approaching ship, "Doesn't look t'be armed. Bugger.. that's a tiny ship. Who the bloody 'ell is sailing the Guardian in that thing?"
Lucius Fulkra - Demacia, Fulkra Manor - Day 1, Early Afternoon.
When General Farrister was seen approaching from the kitchen windows, Dolu rushed to greet the Battle Falcon with a warm greeting, a low bow, and a gesture to come in. "Sir General, it is an honor to have you in the House of Fulkra. It's been quite a long time since graced with a man of your stature. Step in, please, make yourself comfortable."
Upon entering, the first of the ambassadors would be the Piltoverian; a yordle, naturally - with thick, orangish fur and an eye patch over his left eye. The Yordle emissary also wore black chain mail over a red tunic that came into iron greaves with a red, wool skirt over top. Not what was expected from a Piltoverian emissary, Lucius would admit. This Yordle was called, Rummy.
The Bandle city emissary, a tall charming woman with long black hair draped over her shoulders, crimson lips, and radiant green eyes. Her attire a simple black dress with a strand of pearls around her neck, nails painted black, arms folded, legs crossed as she sat directly across from Lucius' at a long table. She looked quite bored. Her name was Esme Tollius.
The Zaunite was quiet, an old man wit a brown robe who was barely noticed, sitting on the middle left. Lucius made little note of this ones name, expecting Zaun to be of little importance. Especially such a typical, every day Zauny. Sad, really, since he expected more.
None from Freljord was present, at least not yet. From Ionia, two tall figures in white robes with purple trim, their hands clasped together inside their sleeves as they watched from a plain, undecorated wall. Both were rather similar, fair skinned, blue eyes - and most oftheir features were masked beneath their hoods. Lucius was guessing that they were twins. Their names were Dora and Emma Skyshield.
Then the duo of Noxians, one male and another female. the man, tall with short red hair, shaved, with dark green eyes that expressed little other than boredom, an equally green tunic, black gauntlets made of leather, black greaves, and boots. He stood with his head down, arms folded, a sword on both sides of his belt, and a dagger over his right sword. Then, the woman, tall, slender, beautiful with crystal blue eyes, long flowing white hair, and more armored then the man who was Oz. Her name, Elizabeth.
:ucius politely introduced each and every one of them, then them to General Farrister who he saved a seat for beside himself. "Well met, General, please. We have wine and food prepared should you need anything. Can we begin?" Lucius offered in his most polite, proper tone.
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