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Post by talis on Sept 24, 2014 21:22:50 GMT
"Hey! You! Kid!" Gormith Wargchaser bellowed at the young boy in the middle of busing one of the tavern tables. The youth ducked at first, as if expecting to be scolded, then trotted over to the orcish party sheepishly. The Firetooth had visited Juturna before, but this far west any orcs were more likely to be roving clans than civilized traders. No doubt the boy imagined he was going to get pummeled by barbarians for some imagined slight.
Instead Gormith lifted a letter from the table, sealed in wax with the emblems of House Wargchaser and the Firetooth Clan. Inside was a carefully worded request for an audience "at your earliest convenience," which Gormith had just spent close to an hour penning. It was hardly good form to simply march up to the castle and demand to see the queen. Besides, he was tired from his travels and didn't dislike the opportunity to rest at the inn for a night or two.
"Five jien if you're deliver this to the capital." He handed the letter to the boy, along with a single, silver coin. The youth smiled gingerly, glanced over at the busy barkeeper, and dashed off with a frantic "yessir!"
"Good kid." One of the other orcs said.
"Yeah. Reminds me of you at your age, always running off when the elders weren't looking."
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 24, 2014 22:57:30 GMT
As surprising and unexpected as the sudden arrival of a Firetooth ambassador upon her borders was to the Queen of Juturna, perhaps more surprising still to the Orcish representatives when only ten minutes after sending the boy off to deliver a message to the local monarch he returned, a young woman garbed in a gown of violet silks, delicate footwear of similar make and shade tied up in bows about her revealed ankles, and a masterfully crafted tiara of soft gold with three black diamonds set upon the same number of leaf bladed protrusions at the center of the piece accompanied by a lone guardsman wearing the black leather and ringmail of the royal guard in his company. Seemingly gliding over to the party with the grace of her footsteps the young woman stopped a respectful distance from Wargchaser’s person and, curtseying low without once removing her warm, amber eyes from his own, introduced herself, “Esteemed ambassador of the Firetooth Clan, I am Queen Kallista Eudokia of House Makris, ruler of the Crowned Republic of Juturna. Know that you are welcome guests within our borders, and are hereby invited to stay in my hall until we may meet in court to properly discuss the nature of your visit,” the guardsman, nearly sixty from the look of him locked eyes with each member of the Orcish sortie in turn, crystal blue orbs emanating with a stare cold as ice obvious even in the relative dark of the tavern, though he bowed respectfully before them in time with his Queen, a half empty basket filled with the fruits, and thin sliced cheeses and cold cuts of smoked and aged meats native to the region gripped tightly in his gloved left hand.
The Queen had been performing a Food Walk in the village nearby when the boy found her and clumsily pressed the letter in her hand, mumbling something about, ‘orcs,’ and, ‘maester’s respite,’ before hurriedly scurrying off, looking back every once in a while to make sure Kallista and her guard were following him. Truth be told Kallista had always held trepidations regarding orcs, likely due to the memory of her having nearly been stolen by a band of Western tribals who, slighted by her father’s flat refusal of her hand to their chief shortly after her very public Flowering soiree, decided they’d simply take the heir of the Crowned Republic by force, her hand worth a great deal in light of her mother’s then fourth miscarriage and her father’s only heir being that of his eldest, a girl, even after her twelve years and some odd months of life up to the time, though if she felt reservations about the Firetooth it didn’t show upon her reassuring visage. Her father had long held private intentions of securing her hand to the then young prince of Hessnya, though if his intent had ever been shared with King Rastolav fruitions of the matter had clearly never come to pass, Kallista long since assumed due to the Makris having been viewed by proper monarchs as up jumped bankers made monarchs by the Southern emperor, though the exact details of which her father had never shared with her.
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Post by talis on Sept 25, 2014 1:34:03 GMT
Gormith cocked an eyebrow at the young queen in front of him. Despite having traveled up and down the continent he had never met a human noble actually willing to leave his castle and come meet a delegation at a bar. Most humans were simply too uppity and proper to bother entering such a place. A Firetooth Chieftain might do such a thing, but a Firetooth, raised as a warrior on a warrior's etiquette, would have felt right at home in such a rough-and-tumble location. This young queen fit in about as well as a pearl in a pigsty. He pitied her bodyguard; poor sod must wet his pants every time she went out.
It's... an honor to receive you as such, Queen Kallista." He recovered from his surprise, standing up from his table and giving her a formal, if not eloquent, bow at the waist. Beside the young beauty he felt an awkward figure. He was a foot taller than her and much bulkier, having built his muscles and sinew over months of travelling. His green tunic was rough pants were nothing special; the only marks of wealth he wore were his soft bearskin cloak, a golden chain and a few jeweled rings. Indeed, the most valuable things on him was his gun: the bronze-plated musket was meticulously built, etched with Firetooth art and built of ancient wood.
Armed as he was he felt far too dangerous to be standing next to a human girl. He could not shake the unsettling feeling that he could easily reach out and snap her neck with one hand, had he wanted to. "We will of course accept your invitation. My men and I have had scarce a chance to rest since visiting Karmozijn Kerk."
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 25, 2014 2:16:31 GMT
"I have not yet had the pleasure of visiting the mission, I hope that the missionaries are getting along well? My belated thanks on behalf of myself and my people to the proud and honorable Firetooth for aiding in the construction of our Holy Faith's newest mission, I regret that my own people, modest and humble as we are, could not afford to do more to support the Vaekir and his missionaries in their efforts to promote the blessed tenants of Aed, --, but enough of that, there will be plenty of time to speak on our way to the way to my home. I've had my manservants bring my palanquin around to the front of the establishment, and I've instructed your boy courier to ensure his fee and your food and drink are paid by the Crown of Juturna as our honored guests. Would you and your personal guard do me the honor of riding with me to my manor in the royal palanquin, esteemed representative of the noble Firetooth?" though she didn't look as if she belonged in such a place as Maester's if the tenants were overly surprised to see Kallista here it didn't show. Most stood and bowed as well as they were able, and the tavern wenches had each curtseyed in turn as she passed them by upon entering, though none looked as if they had never seen their Queen before and fewer still stopped what they were doing for more than a few moments upon catching sight of her.
This, of course, was because she had been making a monthly Food Walk here since she was seventeen and but a princess, and she had personally spoken to most every person in the village at least once during her visits, but it was unlikely the Orcish representatives could possibly know this, even if they were aware of the practice of Juturna’s noble women to walk the villages and cities providing food to the poor and crippled. Offering her right arm to the ambassador in the hopes that he would take it as she began walking to the exit she waved with her left hand as eagerly as one could while still remaining modest and reserved to each of the patrons and staff in turn, eliciting a few shouts of, “Aed save the Queen!” and several secondary bows at her exit, warm eyes moving from person to person as she waved, making sure to make eye contact with each at least for a moment, gleaming smile worn proudly across her demure visage. If the Orcs had chosen to follow her they would observe the royal palanquin and it's eighteen bearers coming to a stop just in front of the building as Kallista and, hopefully, her guests exited, a massive thing of wood and silk, curtains of soft gold tied up about the frame revealing the soft silks and down cushions which comprised the interior of the glorified litter, easily big enough to fit four orcs, large as they were, as well as the young queen. First offering one last wave to the people who had gathered about the palanquin, Kallista, and Gormith should he have chosen to take her arm, would ascend into the bed of the palanquin proper, followed shortly thereafter by any guards he may have chosen to take along with him, her own guard mounting his horse to lead the party back to the manse proper.
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Post by talis on Sept 25, 2014 6:14:40 GMT
"Ah, I beg your pardon your highness, but our wargs are stabled out back. With your leave we will fetch them and join you on wolfback - I'd rather not leaves the beasts alone." Gormith was keenly aware that his boots were still stained with mud from the trip, and he could think of few faux pas worse that leaving bootstains in his host's silk palanquin. Besides, he'd never hear the end of it if his grandfather heard he had gone along in some silk-clad palanquin carried by servants. He could already hear the grumbles about "going soft" and "when I was your age." Thanks for all the appreciation when I'm schmoozing you a seat on the Elder Council, gramps!
The Orcs excused themselves with bows to fetch their mounts, though Gormith had enough understanding of tact to escort the queen outside first. He observed the formalities of Juturnan monarchy with something akin to bemusement. In his travels he had seen the quiet reverence of Aedekom worshippers praying with the High Priest and the snivelling, paper-pushing bureaucracy of a Survaekom Imperial Court. And of course he could remember the raucous cheering of the chieftain's mead hall in his homeland. The cheers around the Queen were altogether different.
The Orc's great wargs padded along beside the Palanquin gently, close enough that Gormith could easily speak to the queen while the other orcs rode behind them.
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 25, 2014 6:54:44 GMT
"But of course, honored guest, I understand completely," and with a second, slight bobbing curtsey the Queen of Juturna left the Orc cavalryman at the foot of her palanquin, climbing aboard it's cushioned bed as the ambassador and his men left to retrieve their mounts. Though she had not considered the fact before, it was quite the relief that Gormith choose to ride as opposed to joining her in the litter, the wargs, though beautiful in their animalistic grace and ferocious spirit, seemed considerably less inclined to run off in search of prey at the first scent of stable boy with a skilled hand at their reigns, so to speak. She addressed the subject once her guest had pulled in beside her, "Your mounts have quite the natural beauty to them, do they not? Terribly ferocious, yet eternally graceful in their ferocity, filled with a tremendous spirit,” in the relative quiet of the streets outside of the tavern it became clear that the Queen’s voice was thick with the smoky accent of the humans of the Southern Shores, yet soft, girlish even. Despite her youth and, when compared to the Orcish ambassador, petite demeanor, however, Kallista exuded a quiet, reserved confidence, and seemed every bit the ruler of a human nation she was.
Though most civilized peoples seemed to shun the works and art of the Orcs as somehow less than or barbaric, Kallista couldn’t have said why, and seemed to be possessed of a genuine appreciation for the engraved muskets passed down from father to son, the wild beasts the huskarls and nobility among the tribes took as mounts and somehow managed to tame enough to ride, even for the rough leather boots worn with years of dust, mud, sweat, and blood, and it was like to have shown in her wide amber eyes as she carefully observed the dress, mount, and tools which her guests bore about their persons, noting the intricate patterns of the plating about the barrels and upon the stocks of their weapons. Come to think of it, it had been at least ten years since she had seen a musket up close, gunpowder weapons being nearly unheard of along the Southern Shores and certainly not borne in public by those among her citizenry who happened to have looted them from the corpses of fallen Imperial musketeers during the last stages of the war, the ground invasion which saw Juturna put to the torch, her temples crushed to ruins under sustained cannon fire, and the Crowned Republic of Lucente reduced to a multitude of squabbling successor states sworn to the service of the empire which had seen their civilization crushed beneath its heel. It was a tale the Firetooth were no doubt familiar with, each Northern nation having had some degree of interaction with the empire over the course of the war, though if the most recent rumors surrounding the Northern tribes were to be believed they had since given up on providing the tribute due their emperor, perhaps something interesting which might be brought up behind the closed doors of her manse later. |
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Post by talis on Sept 25, 2014 7:23:31 GMT
"Yes. She grew from a pup in our House kennels. He great, great grand-dame was the warg Ferenath, the namesake of our House. The tale of her taming and saddling is our ancestral song." He could almost hum the tale to himself - there wasn't a child among the Wargchasers who wasn't forced to memorize the tale. The Queen had stumbled upon a vital topic, for Hosue Wargchaser was famed among the Firetooth for its great beasts and skilled riders. "Oreska here was loaned to me for my travels south. We've both traveled far and seen each other through much danger."
Oreska herself whuffed, seemingly listening in on the conversation. On careful inspection she was distinct from even the other wargs. She was clearly the largest among them, and her paws were unusually wide. More notably, her coat had a dark auburn sheen the color of dried blood, which almost reflected light with its dull brilliance. This was in contrast to the other wargs, who for the most part had grey or brown coats. No doubt Oreska's pelt was worth a small fortune on account of its brilliant color and soft fur.
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 25, 2014 21:14:43 GMT
"I would love to hear the tale while you are in Juturna, if you would do me this great honor? It is not often House Wargchaser graces the Crowned Republic with an envoy this far South," come to think of it, she was unsure if any by the name of Wargchaser had ever been to Juturna city proper, though it was hard to be sure. A proud and noble house they were, with much renown and glory earned upon the killing fields which comprised the border between the Firetooth and their cousins to the West, but it always seemed to be a different house representing the clan proper each time they made an appearance along the Southern Shores. Had it been House Dragonshot which held the honor of representing the clan last time round? Or was that the time before...? No matter, it was only just then that with a giggle Kallista realized her earlier faux pas and covering her mouth with her right hand momentarily as if to mask her shame, she explained herself, “I beg your forgiveness, honored guest. The Southern tongue of the Survaek is neither my first, nor my best as I must confess. Karmozijn Kerk, the seat of the Chief Priest in the North, is it not? I was mistaken in thinking you meant the newest mission, that known as the Juturna Kerk to the West of here, founded in part with the gracious donations of your Chief on behalf of the noble Clan of Firetooth.”
She must seem quite the foolish little girl to the proud warriors of the Northern tribes, floating along in cushioned palanquin as they rode mightily on wargback, bronze plated muskets and hand cannons shining brilliantly as they went in light of her single guardsman, nearly too old to still be considered fit for his station and armed only with steel buckler and longsword, her obvious misunderstanding of the tongue of the empire to whom both the Firetooth and the Crowned Republic were so sworn, and in something so obvious as the name of the most prolific mission in the North? At least they wouldn’t think her a sniveling little princess locked away in the tall stone tower of her evil stepmother awaiting a noble prince to come and rescue her, or so she hoped. It couldn’t have been every day a Queen made their acquaintance in a tavern, and unlike many human monarchs she was anything but a stranger among her people, evidence to which was abundant in the familiar way with which they reacted to her presence. More surprising to those who happened to watch the party pass by were the wargs of the Orcish ambassadors, their queen having much involvement in the day to day lives of the people whom she ruled. Perhaps she would be seen as a silly little girl in the eyes of the Orcish ambassadors, but at least she wouldn’t come off a sniveling brat in need of rescue, or an uninterested ruler who preferred the comforts of her manse to leading her people and cared little for the wellbeing of the common folk.
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Post by talis on Sept 25, 2014 22:17:41 GMT
"I could relate the tale for you, but it is meant to be sung in Orcish. It loses much in the translation." He shrugged, "If I ever come south again I will invite a bard to travel along, and you can hear as many stories as you like." That would be a much better option. Gormith knew the stories, but he was no bard. When the singers retold the stories of old they made a performance out of it; every word and gesture weaving the song story together. Those days, huddled around a roaring hearth during the dead of winter, the firelight flickering off the walls as the bard strummed his instrument, were some of his fondest memories.
He snapped out of his momentary reminiscence. "Ah, yes. The High Priest was very happy with our donation. It is of course our duty to aid in spreading the faith." Duty and convenience. The High Chief's blessing had been valuable, and the Firetooth Clan was fully aware of the political benefits that Aedekom brought them. "I haven't seen the new mission myself, but given my luck it is only a matter of time before I get sent there on some errand or another."
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 25, 2014 23:22:16 GMT
“Ah, so that’s how it is, then?” the young Queen’s smile gleamed at Gormith’s comment as to errands and luck, before she picked up a pitcher of chilled Southern Shore’s wine, strong, bittersweet, and nearly black with the depth of its red shades and began to pour a goblet for her guest, taking a swallow from it before getting to her knees and extending her right arm, goblet in hand, towards him, slowly and with respectful distance so as not to anger Oreska, warm, reassuring eyes locked upon her guest’s all the while. “Ruling is often a glorified series of errands, is it not so? All pretentious greetings and trepidatious dancing about, all the while hoping you haven’t stepped on the wrong person’s toes. There are perks, though, and good wine is one of them. Please drink, I would not have honored guest go thirsty while I rest on pillowed cushions and sip from mine own goblet of chilled Southern wine,” truth be told she had never liked to drink alone, reminded her too much of her father near the end, and as hot as the day was turning out to be, and as sore as her feet had become from spending dawn to midday walking the streets of the villages and outlying parishes and hovels speaking with her subjects and delivering food stuffs to the beleaguered and crippled among them as was customary for noble ladies of the Southern Shores, whether a bankers wife or Queen of the Crowned Republic, a nice spot of wine sounded just about right.
If Gormith refused her offer of drink she would take the goblet for her own, drinking alone still sounding preferable at the moment to not drinking at all, and if he took it she would pour one for herself before settling back into a comfortable position, half lying down and half propped up back against a cushion, legs extended comfortably across the length of the palanquin and crossed at the knee left over right, facing towards Gormith if a couple feet below his eye level even with the five feet of air granted her from the palanquin’s frame propped upon the shoulders of her manservants. “Please tell me, and do speak true and plainly without fear of judgment or reproach, for I have little and less of either to offer; where would you prefer to be right now, if you could be anywhere, doing anything? I would like to get to know the man behind the ambassador, it is so seldom that we have visitors from the North, and though I have heard much of your people from those who travel and trade through mine own, the last time a representative from the Firetooth came to the Crowned Republic I was but a humble princess whose questions and curiosity would only have brought the ire of my father, and you are the first Orc I have ever had the pleasure to exchange words with, more so than in proper greeting and farewell, anyway.”
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Post by talis on Sept 26, 2014 20:53:16 GMT
Gormith accepted the wine and swallowed a mouthful. It was light and sweet, with a twinge of bitterness, wholly different from the more common ales and mead he usually drank. He was no connoseur, but this was obviously fine wine, such as only a few could afford to enjoy on a regular basis. He swirled his cup and took another mouthful as he considered her request. What did he want, and what would be acceptable to a wealthy princess of the southern coast? Given her frank and curious nature, he decided on a version of the truth.
"I would prefer to have my business successfully concluded, so that I could return home with success and honor to the praise of my grandfather and the House. Then maybe Elder Urnok will finally kick the bucket and House Wargchaser will have a seat on the Elder Council among the Great Houses." In truth he cared little for travelling, and preferred to live and work in his home, among the others in his hall. But Gormith had a strong sense of duty, and he had chosen to volunteer for this mission because he wanted the honor... and maybe some praise from his grandfather. Bitter old codger that he was.
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 26, 2014 21:31:29 GMT
The Queen giggled, clearly pleased with the answer her guest had provided, smiling warmly as she took a sip from her own goblet of Southern Shores wine, shades of carmine, lilac and flame glimmering forth from its depths with the slight swirling motion accomplished by gyrating the stem of the glass between her thumb, middle, and ring fingers, ponderous amber orbs never leaving Gormith's own as she considered him for a time before responding. "And tell me, honored guest, what might I offer which would bring House Wargchaser the honor and glory they so rightfully deserve, and see valiant hero of the Clan returned awarded the praises and respect due him by his elders?" The Firetooth were a proud and noble people, and it would be a boon to the Republic should their two nations grow to become friends, and in either case it couldn’t hurt to make friends of Gormith and House Wargchaser. Besides, playing power politics with her neighbors to the North was if nothing else an interesting distraction from the shipyards now visibly under construction in the former East Harbor District, a necessary concession, but one which still tasted bitter upon the tongue. |
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Post by talis on Sept 26, 2014 23:09:19 GMT
"I come offering an agreement of trade between our realms." Gormith replied. "I propose an agreement for equal investment in routes and infrastructure to support brisk trade, whether by land or sea, for the prosperity of both of our peoples." He smiled, "Surely you won't mind a few more orcs visiting Juturna? Especially when they bring fine furs and good craftsmanship. We could do with some of your wine, too."
"My other duty..." He glanced south at the imperial port under construction, and cleared his voice for a more "official" tone. "... is a message. We recognize the Survaekom Empire for its power, yet maintain that every nation has the right to its sovereignty. For that reason the Firetooth officially reject the right of the empire to establish a military presence in the sovereign territory of other realms."
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Post by psychopathickids on Sept 27, 2014 0:00:48 GMT
The serenity of the midday march shattered in an instant, an almost palpable cadence of glass breaking upon tile coming over the party with the weight of Gormith's words, the reassuring smile and wide eyes of the sweet girl Queen of the Southern Shores turned sharp, almost animalistic, scanning the eyes and face of the Firetooth Ambassador for any sign of the intentions buried beneath before she spoke. "Halt," and in an instant the palanquin bearers had ceased their march and lowered their cargo to the ground, the Queen struggling to keep the silks of her gown from tearing on anything as she hastily removed herself from the royal litter and steadied herself upon her own two feet, goblet still half full of carmine elixir nearly sloshing its contents all about the place in her hurry to remove herself from prying eyes and ears. "Would you walk with me a moment, honored guest? Alone, if it pleases you," her tone was less sweet request than barked order, and before awaiting a reply she herself began walking, never turning back to see if Gormith was following her, a gesture the only command issued her own guardsman to cease marching until the pair returned.
Should he have chosen to follow her, he would find that she would only speak to or even look upon him after moving near half a hundred yards from the assembled party of orcs and lone human guardsman, and even then only after seating herself upon a rock beneath the shade of an olive tree growing lonely among the brush of the middle of nowhere stretch of land they happened to have found themselves breaking in. Should he have chosen to follow her, and only if he had chosen to follow her would she see fit to justify his potentially treasonous statement with a response. “The Firetooth shall have their trade agreement, the details to be worked out at my manse, but I need you, not your men, nor your brother, nor your closest friend, but you to carry a message to your Chief, for his ears only and not to be repeated until you can find yourself alone in his company. Will you do this for me, Gormith Wargchaser?”
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Post by talis on Sept 29, 2014 23:19:33 GMT
Somewhat surprised, Gormith swung himself off of Oreska and gestured to his men to wait, then hurried after her. He could only imagine what motivated her to abandon the party so quickly and insist on a private conversation; what discussion she did not trust the walls of her palace and ears of her closest guards with.
He did not sit, but stood and listened to her demand carefully, his face carefully impassive for once. Was she planning something? The Firetooth's disdain for the Empire was no secret, but they saw things a bit different from the other kingdoms. To the Firetooth, Survaek was but one "empire" in a long line of kingdoms that claimed the title. His ancestors had seen several such great powers come and go, and didn't so the Elders didn't particularly blink when another one showed up. They'd send their gold and bow as long as Survaek kept it's end of the deal by keeping its soldiers and bureaucrats out. He hoped the princess wasn't planning something too outrageous.
Still, his duty to hear the girl out was clear. Whatever her message was, it would be conveyed to the Chief in confidence.
"Very well," He finally said, "You have my Word as a Firetooth of House Wargchaser that I will convey your message to the Chief and no one else."
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