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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 2, 2009 20:51:47 GMT -5
Minna thanks Alec and turned outside. "My father wore red armor?" She was truly interested. She had never heard stories of her father. She was eager to find out what she could about him; without pressing her luck.
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Post by Shu'al Raethir on Feb 3, 2009 15:03:14 GMT -5
((FYI- You don't really have to read this post if you don't want to. I was bored and felt like writing out his whole story/song. XD))
Marrok watched the pair leave impassively. Wars and battles held little interest for him anymore. Participation in them, anyway. Too much fighting would probably kill him anyway. "Well, I guess we oughtta get around to our thing." Marrok wandered back to his room and grabbed his guitar- a beautiful instrument crafted of the finest dark cherry wood by his own grandfather's hands. Marrok ran his fingertips along the smooth, finished wood, feeling the very life of this guitar and the memories it held. Ithorec warbled and picked up a harmonica-like instrument in his beak. "No, just the guitar and the flute tonight." Marrok grabbed his wooden pan flute from the desk and went back downstairs. He strapped on the leather pad and headed into town, guitar slung over his shoulder. Making his way to the town center, Marrok settled down by a statue of a man on a horse (Sir Gerard Beutali, the plaque said) and placed a wooden bowl in front of him. Immediately a group of kids that had been playing came over to watch- there was no mistaking a bard. "Gather 'round, gather 'round. I have a tale to tell ye all." The kids looked thrilled at the prospect of a story. It was well known that some of the best bards in the country could tell a story so well that the listener could actually imagine that they are in the story. And Marrok, though the kids knew not his name or lineage, came from the greatest line of bards known to history. Marrok took after this trait. Some adults paused in their evening things to listen, only for a moment, they told themselves. Holding his guitar to use for sound effects, Marrok started, "There once was a young man, nary 15 they say. He wished, more than ever, that he could change the world. Now, the world was not as we know it now. It was a dark and evil world, clouded by black smoke and angry people. Constantly the boy's head rang with the sound of metal clashing, voices yelling, screams of the anguished. 'How can this be?' The boy was oft hear crying, 'How can we treat one another like this?'" Marrok changed his voice like a pro so the listeners would believe they were hearing another's voice. "So he set out one day, walking away from his family calling to change the world. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. "On and on he wandered, asking all he met on his journey how they themselves could make things right. On his back he wore just a simple tunic. A pair of trousers protected his legs from the brambles and a pair of worn leather shoes covered his feet. All he met simply laughed him away, disgust obvious on their faces. 'No one can change the world but the Kings.' They'd say. So that is what the boy did. He went to the Kings." A girl gasped from the audience, "No one can go to the Kings! They rarely deal with peasants and commons folk!" "Aye, so that be true." Marrok replied with a nod, "But this didn't sway the young man. He walked straight on up to the castle itself and demanded to see the King. For 6 days he remained, sleeping in the dirt waiting and begging to see the King, but alas, to no avail. The man was turned away, then threatened to be hanged if he stayed any longer. 'You're causing a bloody scene!' A guard cried, kicking rocks and dirt at him. So the boy left, heading on towards the next castle. "The same happened there, and the castle after that as well, until the fourth came. The King, having heard by now of a soothsayer wandering the countryside in search of a King willing to listen, agreed to hear what the determined young man had to say. "When the King laid eyes on our hero, what he saw looked like a wagon wreck. His hair had grown long and ragged, a rough beard had sprouted from his chin, and many old wounds were mixed with fresh ones. But what got to the King was not the man's condition, but his eyes. Our hero's eyes seemed to bore into the King's, powerful and determined. 'How can we change the world?' he cried out, falling weakly to his knees. 'Please tell me how we can change.' The King regarded the young man for a moment, thinking. 'A war rages, my boy. And until the traitor is destroyed along with all his followers, the world can never be right.' Slowly our hero raised his head, eyes meeting the King's once more. 'That is it? You were done an injustice, and the world must suffer?' "The King, quite taken aback by this statement, narrowed his eyes, 'A very serious injustice it was. My allies know I am right and that he was wrong. He must be put in his place. Of course the world won't be right while a traitor like him is allowed to get away with his treachery!' The King practically bellowed the last, frightening the guards. But our hero was not to be deterred. He had, after all, proven his strength and power of will just by making it this far. And this, of course, had not escaped the King's notice. An idea came into his head. 'You want to change the world. Very well. You are now recruited into my army. Guards, take him to the camp and have him trained. I don't want him killed.' Our hero gazed up at the King, shock blatant on his face. He provided no resistance to the guards as he was taken down to the camp. "The sounds of war raged in the distance, but this far back from the front lines was where new recruits were trained. Our poor hero looked beaten- in his attempt to stop the war, he was tossed right into the middle of it. He dressed into the sect's colors- green- and was given a sword. Naturally, having been raised on a farm, the boy knew precisely how to handle such weaponry, but had never considered killing fellow men with them." Marrok paused a moment, catching his breath and preparing for a song as a form of intermission. "During his training, the boy was oft heard singing this song." Marrok started to play a gentle tune on the guitar, then he sang, "Through early morning fog I see, Visions of the things to be, The pains that are withheld for me. I realize that I can see,
That suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, And I can take or leave it if I please...
I try to find a way to make, All our little joys relate, Without that ever present hate, But now I know that it's too late!
And Suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it if I please...
The game of life is hard to play, I'm gonna lose it anyway, The losing card I'll someday lay, So this is all I have to say-
Suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, And I can take or leave it if I please...
The only way to win is cheat, And lay it down before I'm beat, And to another give my seat, For that's the only painless feat.
Suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, And I can take or leave it if I please...
The sword of time will pierce our skins, It doesn't hurt when it begins, But as it works its way on in, The pain grows stronger... watch it grin, but,
Suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, And I can take or leave it if I please.. . A brave man once requested me, To answer questions that are key, 'Is it to be or not to be?' And I replied, 'Oh why ask me?'
'Cause Suicide is painless, It brings on many changes, And I can take or leave it if I please... And you can do the same thing, if you please....." Marrok played a few more bars, then ended the song. He glanced around at his considerably large crowd, many of which had tears in their eyes. Coins clinked as they were tossed into his bowl. "Thank you, thank you." Marrok said softly, inclining his head to the donors. "A few months passed, and in that time our hero became a soldier. Many of his ideals were sadly lost in his brainwashed training. He simply forgot what he had gone there for. All he knew now was that he had to fight to protect his country. The time had come for the army to send him into battle- off his battalion went, marching along the destroyed countryside to the frontlines. As the troops charged forward, a problem arose. Our hero ran into the midst of the heaviest fighting, and just stood there, sword in hand. He couldn't bring himself to kill other men. They weren't the enemy, no matter what anyone said! These were fathers, brothers, sons! A sword glinted as it swung towards the man's helmeted head, and finally our hero acted. He swung his sword up to block, then brought it down, breaking the 'enemy's' arm with the flat of his sword. Our hero refused to kill. The commander, who stood a distance away to watch, was appalled. Our hero danced the graceful steps of battle, but killed not a single opponent. He only broke bones. The commander had to intervene, so he dashed down the knoll and grabbed our hero, dragging him out of danger and back to the camp. 'You fool! You'll get yourself killed fighting like that! How can you be so good, and yet not use your skills!?' The commander shouted, furious. Our hero stood there, docile as a lamb. 'I cannot kill those men. They are not my enemy.' He replied to his outraged leader. "'Fine then. You will be outfitted in the special army.' The commander said coldly, knowing that he was going against the King's orders by putting our hero in the most dangerous area. He was taken to a second camp where a new weapon was being invented. A weapon that would change our hero's life forever. "A loud boom filled the air, louder than a clap of thunder. 'Sounds like they are already starting to use it in battle.' The commander laughed. "Our hero was stunned at what he saw. Blasting powder by the ton was stored in bins. 'What?' He managed to choke out, already knowing what was being done with the blasting powder. He was pretty sure the army wasn't using it to make trenches and caves, and many a man had died using the white powder to expand mines. "Our hero became a part of this horrific group- never seeing their enemies, but killing great numbers in an awful way. He learned how to pack the powder into canvas bags with a rope coming from it. Using a flint and stone, the rope was lit and the bag was thrown, exploding fatally amidst a group of men. In this fashion, they killed many enemy warriors, but also claimed the lives of their own men. Sadly, because of the brainwashing, our poor hero participated in these skirmishes, killing hundreds of men with the blasting powder. "One day, while out on the field, something went wrong again. A man in their wagon accidentally lit the rope in the wrong spot. Before he could throw it, the bag exploded, causing all of the blasting powder in the wagon to blow. Our hero, assumed dead, was never found in the aftermath. Perhaps he was so damaged in the explosion that he could never be identified. However, there was a series of problems at other wagons and eventually back at the camp. Perhaps it was our hero, seeking revenge from the afterlife. Or perhaps he still lives to this day, slinking along in the shadows, still trying to change the world. Needless to say, the army stopped using blasting powder in battles and resumed normal fighting. And as real as I am sitting here before you, that story is true." Marrok inclined his head to the crowd, who mumbled amongst themselves about this story. None of them had ever heard about blasting powder from mines being used in battles, and none had ever heard of the hero. more change clinked into the bowl, to Marrok's delight. His story ended, he sat on the ledge of the statue and pulled out his pan flute, playing a merry jig to please the crowd, which was beginning to dissipate. He was alright with that- his story had taken a while and he was ready to head back to Garis's house and rest.
((Haha, that was way longer than I intended it to be. XD Like I said, you didn't have to read it.It has nothing to do with your story line. Just Marrok being a bard.))
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 4, 2009 2:32:58 GMT -5
"No, not red armor, armor with red inlays. They were beautiful, fiting for a king. They were in swirling patterns all across his chest and his shoulders and all over his armor. Alec was the one who did your father's armor, I know he'll make yours just as beautiful." Garis saw Minna's intent look. "He fought with an axe, normally, but his sword was patterned just like his armor. His blade is...his blade is in my house, up in the third floor. When we get back home, I'll take you up there. His armor, his axe, his sword, all of his parchments and scrolls." Garis fell quiet. He led Minna into the tailor's where the man measured her again. "Lace, silk, one red, one black, one white, one green. Not big and poofy, make it like a robe. Plus three pairs of trousers, four tunics, and two leather jerkins." The tailor nodded, witing the order down. Garis paid him a stack of gold coins. "I'll have the trousers and tunics done in two days, the jerkins in another day, the dresses will be done in a week. I have to get the order to the seamstresses and the leatherman. You can come back in two days and collect the first if you wsh." Garis nodded. "Come now." Garis said to Minna. "Let's head back home."
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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 4, 2009 18:12:56 GMT -5
Minna was silent as they walked back home. It felt like her blood was ice, her mind was racing. How had all these people known her father so well? And here she had been, under this kind mans roof with her fathers armor and such up above where she was? She was shocked, scared, anxious, and even more sad. "I remember when I was younger, mother used to talk of our heirs, of how one day a son would retake the throne and end the war...Do...Do you think it'd be possible that I could, even though I am a woman?" She kept her eyes on the path heading forth.
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 5, 2009 10:05:50 GMT -5
"I do not know of any other heirs but you. And I think...I think that you could. All you need is some training and some confidence. If you are related to your father than you have more than a fighting chance to win a war. But honestly, it will take more than you and I to win a war against the kingdom and it's armies. But, leave it to me, I'll find us men. Lots of them. Lots of soldiers. Trust me Minna, you'll make a good queen."
When he walked through the front door, Garis led Minna upstairs, to the third floor of his house. Hardly anyone ever came up, and rarely did they. The floor held a thin layer of dust from misuse. "I'm going to show you all of your father's things." He said as he went up the stairs. "If you...if you wish to use his sword, I won't stop you. It is rightfully yours, after all." At the top of the stairs was a lone door, the only room up here. Garis unlocked the door and spun open the thick, heavy steel bolt that held firmly across the entrance. He opened the door into a room dimly lit from a small window. He lit a few candles, illuminating the room with a yellow glow. A large desk against the far wall held stacks of parchments, while a scribe's shelf held dozens of scrolls. There were also three bookshelves full of texts. In an iron framed case, a suit of armor stood ready for its next user, though sorrowful for the lost of its last. Deep scars crossed the breast plate from numerous battles, as well as the shoulder plates, but the helmet, at the bottome of the case, was turned sideways. Garis hated looking at the helmet, seeing the long, wide gash that ran from the base of the helmet, where the neck would be, up the the center of the back, where the dome of the skull would be. Garis instead turned his attention to the rack of weapons along one wall. It held numerous swords and maces and other weapons that Bernt either collected or made or bought, but above, laying horizontal on stands, were a huge, two bladed battle axe, and a long, thick, red inlayed broadsword. "In here is everything I could save of your father's before they either burned it or tossed it into the moat."
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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 6, 2009 17:42:14 GMT -5
Minna foloowed with no questions. She found herself standing in a dust covered room; it was dark and had a mournful feeling to it. She stared at his armor, and then his helmt. She slowly walked over to it; her body moved as if she were a ghost floating in midair. She held out her hand to touch the helm, her hand gently touched the cold metal. It traced down to the missing metal. It was sharp,it hurt her to see but also gave her relief. If the weapon were that sharp, it would cause a quick and almost painless death. She traced her fingers down to the chest, feeling every bump and scratch. She took a step back and stared at the material. her father, the only male heir to the thrown, had worn that. She turned and stared at all the scrolls. She wanted so badly to read them, but she couldn't read. She then faintly heard Garis speak. "Th..." She looked down nd closed her eyes. "They destroyed all this? Becuase he was the rightful king?" She looked up at him, then let her eyes waver over all the weapons. He had held these. He had worn the armor. He had wrote on all the scrolls. For once, she felt like he really was real, he wasn't a story. "When...When I become Queen, I want you to be my councel. I want all of my Fathers things transfered to teh castle and I want then in the Hall of Kings." She was shocked still, that they had destoryed his things. They weren't even theirs! She fell to her knees and looked around the room. It hit home. She was queen. She was the only truful heir. She was the Queen. Queen Minna. "We start training tonight."
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 7, 2009 7:18:58 GMT -5
"Yes, they destroyed all of the other things. You'd be surprised at what some people would do for power." Garis walked up behind Minna. "It would be an honor to serve you, my Queen, and believe me, all of your father's things will be well taken care of." Garis walked over to the weapons rack. He searched along a few of them, finally pulling out a sword. The pommel was silver, and the hilt was leather wrapped. The blade itself was about two and a half feet in length. The scabbard was red-dyed leather. He pulled the blade, in its scabbard, from the rack. "This was one of your father's swords, I know it shuold fit you well. You can train with this, at least until you have enough stength to wield that broadsword. But even so, this sword has seen its fair share of battles. And yes, if you so wish, we'll start tonight."
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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 7, 2009 14:09:15 GMT -5
***2 years later***
Minna stood before the mirror. Her body stood taller, her face was stronger although her eyes were still bluer than ever. Her hair was just above her shoulders. An outlandish act for a woman, but she was the Queen, and she was going into battle. Garis had taught her everything she needed to know; and then some. She took a deep breath, staring at her reflection. Her body was toned; she stood proud, taller than before. She turned and lifted up the breast plate and put it on. She grabbed a hold of the leather straps and tightened it. She traced her fingers over the scars that were on it. So many stories lied in every mark. She put on the shoulder garments as well as the belt that would hold her sword to her side. Bernts sword. She turned to look in the mirror again. She looked serious, her eyes were set, her posture was correct, she was ready. She looked, talked, walked, and fought as the royal would. She gathered her things into a large leather tote and rested her hand on the door knob. This was the last time she would be in the room. Her room. Her last time here. She restored her posture and left. She bolted the door behind her, then turned and faced Garis and Marrok (if he's still here). "I am ready." her voice was loud with authority, it rang with what it should, it was powerful and steady.
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 7, 2009 15:20:55 GMT -5
((If you dun mind, I’m going to add to the beginning.))
Garis faced the mirror in his room. His black armor was all strapped and secured. His large, pick-axe shaped sword hung strapped to his back. A quiver, three dozen black, green feather-tipped arrows hung at his back below the sword, his longbow, strung, hung ready beneath it. He found himself wiping a tear from his cheek. It had been nineteen years since he had worn this armor, and on the last day he had, his best friend, his brother, Bernt, had died. And now, he was wearing it for Minna, his daughter. His face instantly steeled, his composure becoming that of a hardened warrior. His pack, along with his helm, was on his horse beside the house. Garis waited for Minna in the front room. When she came out, pangs of painful memory stabbed at him. She looked so much like her father now. Even in his armor, his sword, his mind was taken to the battle on that fateful day. He forced himself back, looking at Minna. "You are finally ready, my Queen."
Garis killed the man before him, stabbing him twice. He killed the man beside him with an overhand blow, saving the man he was about to kill. Garis looked to see Bernt kill one man, two, three. He had an axe in one hand, a sword in the other. Then Garis saw the horseman, the axe in his right hand was aimed for Bernt. Garis charged forward, yelling. He was feet from Bernt when he heard the sickening thud of metal on metal, and the sound of blood and breaking bone. He leapt and cut off the hand of the rider, then hooked him with one of the ends of his sword and threw him to the ground before decapitating him. Garis dropped his sword and knelt beside Bernt. He held the man’s head in his arms, his breath was choking with blood, his eyes were blank, but they focused, just for a moment, only long enough to see Garis. “Garis-I…” “Shh.” Garis said, he was crying, tears mixing with sweat and blood and dirt. Bernt smiled. “Garis-my wife…” “Your wife is fine.” Garis told him. “No, my-my-my child. She-“ “Rest now, Bernt.” “Garis-“ “I’m here.” “Minna.” His breath failed and he coughed up blood, and Garis pulled him closer, holding him, not wanting to let him go or even acknowledge that he was gone. It was an hour before he realized that he was within a ring, men stood around at a respectable distance, they had defended the pair. They were now looking at the two, the battle over. Many of them cried, and Garis could only breath… and stare. “Minna.” He said. “Minna. Minna.”
“Minna.” Garis accidentally said out loud. He cleared his throat. “We should go.” He quickly turned, fighting the urge to allow the tears to spill over again. Garis mounted his horse, pulling his helm over his head. He nudged the horse forward and it turned out onto the street. Everything seemed slow to him, the people as they turned to look at them. As far as they were concerned, Garis hadn’t been seen in armor for nigh over nineteen years. He rode up the street, the horse’s hooves clapping on the cobblestones. The castle gates were opened for them, a crowd had gathered behind. When Garis stepped off of his horse, he stepped aside and allowed Minna to enter first. As it went, royalty came first.
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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 7, 2009 16:31:03 GMT -5
Minna mounted her horse and rose with ease. Before leaving though, she had put on a red cape, down at the bottom was a lace of golden color cloth. She followed next to Garis. She did not smile, she did not make eye contact with anyone. She saw the castle in the distance, her blood ran cold. "Garis, I..." She looked down, then quickly back up. It was not proper. She made her face into stone again, she made sure her eyes hid the emotions, mainly fear. She slowed her horse and demounted. She spun and quickly walked forward. her cloke spread out and rippled at the end. She followed the hall into the court. SHe froze at the doors. She pressed her hands up onto them, but could not move. "Garis?" Her voice was soft, it was back to her 'normal' self. "What am I to do? What am I to say? I know we've talked about it, a lot, but now the time is here..."
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Post by Shu'al Raethir on Feb 7, 2009 20:33:36 GMT -5
Marrok during those two years, had traveled away from Garis's house on numerous occasions, resuming his nomadic life. But he did return often to pick on the steadily growing Minna and to train her in the more fluid parts of battle. (Marrok perceived Garis as more of a hulk- smash and kill- whereas he himself was a graceful fighter for the simple fact that he never killed his enemies.) At the time of her leaving, Marrok was not around. He was heading back towards the house, though he couldn't follow them to the courts anyway. The slightly older man looked the same as he had when he met Minna two years ago. He hadn't aged visibly, his hair was kept cut to it's rakish length, and he still constantly smiled and had a twinkle in his eye. It was one of those rare occasions where Marrok was actually riding Horse, Ithorec gliding lazily above them. Marrok's heart was giving him more trouble than usual, and during this trip he had gone to his hometown to see his doctor. "It's weak, Mare." "How much time do I have? Can I slow it down?" Marrok asked, his voice resigned. "I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do besides don't strain it. Don't push yourself too hard. Sadly, there's nothing you can do. Two more years, tops, and your heart will give out." The doc replied, looking away from Marrok's decidedly unhappy face. It was rare for anyone to see him so utterly sad, defeated. Everyone knew Marrok as the smiling, happy kid. Especially after the war. Not long after that funeral bell being rung in his head, Marrok packed up his stuff once more and was now headed back to Garis's house. He looked slightly grim at the moment, his sing, "Suicide is Painless," ringing through his head. He began to sing the lyrics ever so softly, knowing that at any moment his heart could go into arrhythmia and stop completely, killing him. A few days into his travels, he began to hear whispers, rumors of an unsung Queen was going to challenge the courts. Marrok, being a master of the underworld, knew precisely who to heckle to gain this information- spies, of course. The typical trade of them was easy to deal with, and in this fashion, Marrok found out all he needed to know- Garis and Minna were challenging the court today. Pulling out his paper pad, Marrok scrawled a quick message onto the paper with a smile. He hadn't seen either of them in quite a few months. Handing the note to a curious Ithorec, the falcon took it in his beak. "Take it to Minna. Minna." He repeated until the bird warbled around the paper and took off. Over the years, Marrok had trained Ithorec to recognize Minna's 'signal', so he knew the bird could find her and had, periodically when he was gone for a long time, sent them messages. Using this training, Ithorec glided up through the thermals, aimed for the castle as Minna's 'signal' became stronger to him. He caught sight of the Queen to be in his sharp vision and dove towards her, slowing at the last second and landing on her rather slick armor. He leaned forward and offered her the folded paper. It read, "Minna, sweet girl, I'm afraid I cannot make it to your battle in the court. Just know that I love you with all my heart and I have the greatest faith in you. You have grown into a fine young woman and I am very proud of your accomplishments. Also, know that I am always watching, even from afar, and I will see you again real soon. Good luck! With all my love, Marrok."
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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 7, 2009 20:50:29 GMT -5
Minna caught the scroll in her hand and read it quickly. She smiled, and put it into her bag. She reached forward and stroked the falcons head. She pulled out a small peice of parchemnt and scribbled on it.
Good Sir Marrok, It is good to hear from you! We've missed you much. I am at the gates right now, gathering my thoughts. We look forward to seeing you soon. Much love, Queen Minna.
She handed it to the bird. "Reply." She smiled at the tiny creature.
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Post by Shu'al Raethir on Feb 7, 2009 21:10:30 GMT -5
Ithorec ran his beak through Minna's hair affectionately, then took the note and flew off to the southwest, back to Marrok. When he received it, Marrok smiled lightly at the formality of the letter, pocketed it, then continued towards the city. As he approached the walls, Marrok pulled up his hood, glancing darkly at the castle before him. Rather than entering the city, Marrok sent Ithorec up to circle the castle while he stretched out under a tree to wait. Going up to the castle could be suicide for him. So, while relaxing and trying to ease the pain of his currently thrashing heart, he continued singing his sing, eyes closed and hood covering most of his features. Ithorec would come when things happened. Horse, old, strong boy that he was, layed down beside Marrok, legs curled rather gracefully under his body.
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Feb 8, 2009 13:06:11 GMT -5
"Just be calm, don't panic, and don't show them any emotion. You show them fear they'll use it, show them anger, they'll push you into doing something that will get you arrested, show them sadness, they'll pick at old wounds. Simply answer they're questions honestly. Well, mostly honest. And I'll be beside you the entire way." Garis said. He readied himself, then pushed the dorr open. O, how he would have just loved to kick the door off of its hinges and run in sword drawn, but that was not today. In the Great Hall, the two side walls were lined with chairs, in them were knghts and dukes and other rulers, but at the far end, the King and his Queen sat in their high thrones. Garis quickly took count of the number of guards in the room, just in case. Garis strode forward until he was in the center of the room. "Ah, your highness," Garis said without bowing, "good to see you again." He said sarcastically. "Garis." The king said simply. "What, unhappy to see me again after all these years?" "Ah, Garis. It's only that the last time I saw you you killed fifty men before almost killing me." "Did I have a reason?" Garis replied, lavishing in the memory. "We all have our reasons for eveything we do." "Well, today, I introduce you to the rightful heir to the throne of Lamoria, Queen Minna." "Ah, welcome...Minna. Please, tell me why you have come here. Do you really think that you, a lowly peasant, could come in here and sway the minds of royalty? You cannot claim to be the Queen, no matter who your father was. That age has come and passed. You're lucky I didn't have you killed."
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Post by Autumn's Nightmare on Feb 8, 2009 22:15:31 GMT -5
Minna clenched her jaw for a moment, thinking. "You could not have had me killed. My father, Bernt, had hidden my mother and I well. And I request that you call me Queen Minna. A lowly peasant I may be, but my blood is thick with the royal line, of which you lack." She kept her voice empty of all emotion, she held her face of stone, her eyes were glaring into the kings. Under the armor her muslces were tense, holding her back from thrusting her fathers blade through the black heart of his. "Their time may have come and passed, and so has yours. My time is now, and i challange you." She looked from him, to the queen, then back to him. "Either let me take your place, or I will wage war, I will fight harder and faster than my father did, I will rule a thousand times better than you, and I will, be sure that only royal blood is on the thrown." She caught herself, her voice was becoming harsh, but only slightly. She regained her composure. "As I said, your Majesty, step down, or I wage war." She held her posture tall, her head was held high, her face was still stone. She felt Garis beside her, had she done the right thing? She would think of that after his responce.
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