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Post by Lady Freya Mercades on Jul 4, 2014 17:53:33 GMT
"Every man and woman of my tribe is willing to take up arms. As many as we need is as many as we shall have."
Freyas eyes focus in on his as his gaze locks to hers. "The same as most of their kind. Black leathers. Worn. Dark cloak." She unfolds one of the layers of her sari and reached into a leather pouch strapped to her leg and pulls out a square scrap of fabric that looks to have been singed by fire. "There was...this, however. My men pulled it off of the body as it was being burned.." She hands him a fabric--a belt favor; a blue feild with a stark white dragon.
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Post by Adoven Leoros Bloodwynd on Jul 4, 2014 18:08:20 GMT
Adoven stiffened at the description, not willing to believe it. He did however hold his tongue before anything was said, not willing to refute any knowledge he may gain here.
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Post by Lord Ainvar Hrothgarsson on Jul 5, 2014 1:16:05 GMT
He listened to her words, and looked upon the cloth she held. He stared in disbelief for what felt to be eternity, until a gentle breeze moved a strand of hair across his face, tickling his nose. Ainvar's face became stone as he looked upon the former Regent of the Locks, "What is this? You are in league with the Dragon. Explain!". Ainvar snatched the fabric from Freya's hand, throwing it to the ground.
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Post by Adoven Leoros Bloodwynd on Jul 5, 2014 3:21:37 GMT
Adoven jumped down from his perch in one of the many trees that surrounded the Grove. Silently standing tall behind Lady Freya, he calmly walked towards the two, keeping his eyes locked with Ainvar's. He glanced down at the piece of fabric, and felt a ripple of anger. "I cannot offer any reasonable explanation. But I in no way have knowledge of this." He stated as his eyes met the human's. "Surely you cannot believe that this proves anything though? For all we know this may have been planted or otherwise belonged to a sheild brother that fell." He rationally deduced. "Furthermore" he continued "This was presented to us from a visitor nonetheless." His eyes fixed on the desert elf's back, his voice laced with a polite accusatory tone.
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Post by Lady Freya Mercades on Jul 6, 2014 3:11:12 GMT
The skin on her back almost seemed to prickle as Adoven approached closer. She turned to see him, instinctively, taking in his appearance; Feeling a devious and dark energy emitted from the unfamiliar elf man. "Your words cut like such dull knives." She says, narrowing her eyes, a blank expression on her face. "If you are to insult a guest, do them the honor of slandering them directly. Not dancing around it like a simpleton tending a fire." "I know no more about the favor than either of you. My men are merely the ones who pulled it from the flames. Though...I'm rather intrigued by your immediate defensiveness in such an unsure situation..." She turns her eyes to Ainvar, waiting for his response, though keeping her senses solely fixed upon the elven man from the shadows.
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Post by Lord Ainvar Hrothgarsson on Jul 6, 2014 3:23:08 GMT
The Cimbrian smirked, "are you accusing my guest of treachery?" Thunder gently rumbled in the distance once more. He stood, grabbing the stained emblem from the ground, and stuck it in his belt pouch. "Truths will be revealed, fates will be sealed. The Dragon is known to be friends with sort spidse øre", Ainvar spat into the fire, "how ironic though, this spidse øre just happened to slay one of them, and thought it wise to take his favor as a token". Ainvar glanced to Freya, then locked his eyes back to Adoven, "you are all the same, whatever clever names you may create to divide yourselves, you're all the same. Liars.."
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Post by Adoven Leoros Bloodwynd on Jul 6, 2014 4:58:03 GMT
"My logic would dictate that the honor of my company be defended. It seems peculiar that you, Lady Freya, would arrive at such a time." He remarked "I have no quarrel with you, but I hold my homeland with pride and honor above all else." He circled around till he locked eyes with one of the Nomadic Folk stating with finality "Daggers may be dull and fools may dance by fires, but a blade is still a blade and a fool can still prove to be unpredictable. With all due respect milady I do not deny the help you are offering, but it puts me on edge with what evidence you put forth." Turning towards Ainvar, he closed the distance between them, and locked eyes with him "I assure you that despite our differences, I remain loyal to the Locks. In turn, to you. Whether my House is involved in such affairs or not my heart stays true to my Home and its people. I swear on my dying breath as an Eledhrim that I speak plainly and truthfully." He knelt before Ainvar and presented towards him his greatsword "My blade is yours to cut me down with should I be of deceitful nature. Let it be known that this Minnónar in the presence of this most Sacred of Groves still holds honor of his countrymen above all else." He bowed his head while the words drifted from his tongue.
For the Song of the World!
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Post by Lady Freya Mercades on Jul 7, 2014 0:56:05 GMT
Freyas lip twitches into a smirk. What puffery this man speaks, she thought. She lets out a blatantly snide laugh.
"Your loyalties lie with the locks yet you offer a blade for bloodshed on its hallowed grounds?" Her eyes flicker in the fire as she rises slowly to her feet.
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Post by Lord Ainvar Hrothgarsson on Jul 7, 2014 1:59:07 GMT
Ainvar's eyes narrowed upon the elf as the glint of the fire danced upon the blade Adoven revealed, distant thunder rumbled, he inhaled deeply, and with a booming voice, growled, "You dare bring weapons of war into such a holy place of my Gods!", The Cimbrian grabbed the great sword by the hilt, and proceeded towards the Great Oak within the center of the Grove. Gathering all of strength he commanded, Ainvar cocked back the sword, and with a guttural roar, slammed the flat of the blade against it's trunk, fracturing it into three large, seperate shards. As the sword made contact, Ainvar released the hilt, having it fling off into the darkness...
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Post by Adoven Leoros Bloodwynd on Jul 7, 2014 2:35:48 GMT
Deeply angered, the elf stated "You forget, Cimbrian that I have pledged my sword to protect this Grove, as my Gods be the same as yours. You mock me in disrespect, but it is you whom has disrespected the Gods themselves, breaking the promise I have sworn towards this Grove. You shame yourself Ainvar, Son of Man, and your line in refuting my help. I came offering my sword and oath to be bound by sacred rites, but I cannot undo the shame you have brought upon me and the friendship I would have sworn to defend." He told the bearded man in righteous anger. He turned to leave, and as he passed by, in a small whisper from the magicks he commanded, spoke to Freya. "You listen well Wanderer. You know nothing of homeland or loyalties. I fight for freedom and a higher ideal. You're a sellsword. You disgrace our People with your poisoned words." He turned to leave, but without even turning he remarked. "I will still fight alongside you Cimbrian. But don't believe for a moment I will forget the offense you have strewn on this hallowed ground." And with such he dispersed into the night.
*moving towards the Town*
For the Song of the World!
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Post by Lord Ainvar Hrothgarsson on Jul 7, 2014 12:01:54 GMT
Ainvar shook his head as the misguided elf fled from the Grove, he turned slowly and knelt before the great oak. The very first sign of the new day began to creep over the horizon, black skies turned a deep blue, the sweet scents of morning grass slowly filled the air. The Cimbrian lowered his head in respect.
"Hellig Torden Gud tilgive krigen stål bragt i dette sted ved den spidse øre."
He lifted his head and saw the first true rays of the Sun's warmth and light break through the canopy, the birds began to sing their oh so common song, as he began to greet the divine through prayer. "Father, sacred Taranus, I thank you for bringing us from darkness, and delivering another day upon the earth, that we may honor your name, and sow from the bosom of the world."
After a silent moment, Ainvar slowly stood, facing Freya, peering deep into her foreign eyes. A look of concern on his face, "I fear his fate flies on the wings of the crows. I pray the Gods see it fit to forgive, and not seek justice for the crime the spidse øre committed against them"..
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Post by Lady Freya Mercades on Jul 8, 2014 16:17:34 GMT
Freya, an amused look on her face, raises an eyebrow to the warrior. "Thats the most marvelous part, na sha da..." she takes the map, rolls it neatly into a leather bundle, and slips it into one of the folds of silk of her sari. "...the benefit of a long life...you either pay with blood or with a lifetime of guilt that haunts you for centuries". She turns to leave, holding herself tall and proud, the morning sunlight reflecting the gold skin on the nape of her neck. "I have given you my peoples promise. I await your decision. Work quickly, warrior...your city's time runs short..." Her sari trails behind her as she leaves the grove, her bare feet walking the same trail as when she entered...an aire of confidence following in her wake.
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Post by Lord Ainvar Hrothgarsson on Jul 8, 2014 16:53:13 GMT
Ainvar nodded towards her as she departed, "And I shall gladly accept your help, spidse øre". Ainvar grinned, with a slight smirk, before gathering his belongings, and made for his horse.
*Onward to the Keep*
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