Dark Thrones

Subject: Dark Thrones Mon Mar 25, 2013 4:00 am

Her long hair as white as the freshly driven snow tied up in a bun she slaves away over a lump of hot metal. As a child she learned all the skills her twin brother had no aptitude for, warcraft, smithing, riding, jousting and the like. It seemed only natural to her that when she found the odd lump of metal that fell from the stars a few hours after the kings tourney she knew what she had to do. Forge the sky metal into a blade the likes of which had not been seen, travel south and give those wanna be knights the trouncing of their lives. She pauses every now and again her steel grey eyes gazing appreciatively over the deadly blade forming beneath her fingertips. For hours she slaves away untiringly not permitting even the slightest hint of imperfection to creep along the blades surface. Finally she plunges the blade into the water for a final time smiling to herself... this she knew would be a sword the likes of which had not been seen for centuries an elegant hand and a half sword perfect for a fluidic style of combat flawlessly balanced. "a sword like this needs a name" she muses "Zoriea" she names the blade calling the name to the world for surely a blade such as this is worthy to be named after a goddess.

Subject: Re: Dark Thrones Thu Mar 28, 2013 2:16 am

As his master walked out of the forge he glanced around briefly. Seeing that there was no one to be seen--and they were on the verge of closing for the evening--he picked up the best sword they made that week. He smiled as he took a stance, swinging it two-handed; which probably would have looked awkward, him having such a lithe frame. His long Crimson hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck but draped down like silky fabric to his lower back. He smiled, continuously swinging it, listening to it cut the air. What he wouldn't give to be a knight, what he wouldn't do to rescue some damsel in distress! But here he was, unwanted by his family, the overworked apprentice of a drunken, violent, abusive blacksmith. He smiled at the beautifully articulated metal, gleaming by the firelight, with rubies and sapphires and garnets in the pummel.

He was so lost in his moment of fantasy that he didn't hear his master come back in; as he turned he saw the stout man, glaring at him, that fiendish look in his eye. He placed the sword gently back in it's case before his master made it to him, whack after whack ensued.

"You pathetic burden!!! what do you think we would do if that got scratched?!?!! Ser Johannas will be here any day now and you're just pissing away with that blade I made" snarled the man as he wolleped the smaller one.

As he gave the final blow to the boy's face, the door bell chimed in the storefront.

"We are closed!" snarled the blacksmith as he stepped from behind the curtain leading to the forge before realizing it was Ser Johannas. "Ah, ser, there you are... you're here for your blade, yes... BOY!!! FETCH SER JOHANNAS' WEAPON!"

The boy walked out, face swollen and bloodied up from the beating, he handed the man the beautiful sword that HE actually hand crafted, though he knew his master would take all of the credit.

"You're face, boy," the knight's voice was kind, warm, like a fathers should be. "What happened?"

"Clumsy git fell," the blacksmith interrupted.

"Yes, well, that's all well and good, but I asked him," the knight responded darkly to the blacksmith.

The boy looked at the blacksmith who gave him that dark look--he'd get beaten whether he told the truth or not, so he shrugged.

"It's like he said, ser, I fell."

"Yes, well..." the knight contemplated. "how much for the sword, then?"

"Four gold pieces," The blacksmith said.

"What do you think it's worth, apprentice?" the knight nodded at the boy.

"Erm... I wouldn't sell it under ten, the hours put into it..." he mumbled.

"Ten, eh?" the knight chuckled. "Twelve... then..." he said, pulling out his purse from his belt. "If you give me this boy; i desperately need a steward of his stature."

"I beg your pardon?" the blacksmith scoffed. "My Apprentice is not for sale."

"Fifteen... gold pieces... right this moment..." He pulled them out of the purse--which was full. 'it'll get you through a few weeks of food, at your stature, i wager."

The blacksmith looked at the money, licked his lips, and calculated in his mind.

"Help is hard to find, this year, not enough parents needing their kids being learned."

"Fifteen is a fair wage; I'm paying you over the price of this sword that you quoted me," the knight protests. "I see no problem; I will even suggest your forge for other knights of the realm whom may come through this part..."

"Deal." the blacksmith grinned.

Nodding, the knight handed him fifteen gold pieces, and took the apprentice and the sword with him.

"First thing's first, then," the knight said as he strode to his horse. "A horse for you, and some defensive moves, too."

The boy was wide eyed, confused, but he nodded. What exactly just transpired is beyond him, but he was relieved to get rid of that slave master.

Subject: Re: Dark Thrones Thu Mar 28, 2013 3:01 am

She retires for the night drifting into sleep slowly her dreams dark and plagued with dragons and fire. She wakes up in a cold sweat unable to get back to sleep. She heads down to training grounds drawing her fresh forged sword setting herself through the forms pushing hard her body hard the sweat plastering her body as she fends off multiple attackers first ahead then parring an attack from the rear. She keeps pushing hard till daybreak whereupon she sheaths her sword before going to seek a bath to wash off the stink of the training. She relaxes scouring her body and hair. Later she gets out and dresses for the road. "Farewell Mother, Father, Darius" she says joining them for breakfast knowing soon she'll be leaving for the Tourney. "Bring us pride Terra, show them that not my children are cravens" Says her lorded father

"I'm sure Darius will bring us pride someday just because he's not not at all athletic I'm sure his brains will pay out someday" She says

"lets hope so but until then just do your best and don't let us down" replies her father.

"I should leave now last thing we need is me to be late there." She replies

"I'll ride down to see you if I get the chance" says Darius

"I'll look for you there brother" She says

She heads back out her sword slung over her back she saddles up her black war charger Lucius. Riding out she looks back briefly before putting home far from her mind. Free at last she smiles riding along the kings road towards Castle Blackheath

Subject: Re: Dark Thrones Mon Apr 01, 2013 6:02 pm

"What's your name, lad?" the knight said to the young man. He glanced over his shoulder at him as he strode, dazed, behind.

"Pardon?" the boy muttered.

"Your name...?"

"Mikhail."

"No surname?"

The boys face turned dark, his eyes fell to the ground and he scuffed his holed shoes into the ground.

"Non to speak of, ser," he finally managed.

"Ah... abandoned by your family then?" his new master said quietly, more to himself than to the boy.

The boy took on a longer stride, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You ever rode a horse, Mikhail?"

"No."

"Well, I suspect you'd better learn, where are the stables in this town?"

"There aren't any here, the closest town with stables is Estwich."

"That's damn-near a day and a half ride in the wrong direction," the knight muttered, stroking his beard. "No matter, I suspect we could leg it to West Tower Breach."

"That's a three day walk, ser."

"Yes. But I know a shortcut through the Dynfall woods, cuts the time in half."

Subject: Re: Dark Thrones Tue Apr 02, 2013 1:28 pm

Her confidence building as she rides off alone. She thinks on what to do so she decides to take a shortcut through the Dynfall woods to her cousins estate at west tower breach. She continues on ever on alert for briggands and highwaymen and the like. Her hair streams out behind her as she rides on. She pauses for a few minuets at the entryway to the forest having forgotten just how imposing it truly is. Once she enters the confines she begins to strain all her seances for the slightest hint of danger, forced within ten minuets to dismount and lead the horse by hand.

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