Dödskvädet
For Zariah
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301
MP:
#1


Are
Black somehow seemed fitting. At first he didn't even know why he'd got it, but as the iron fist slowly closed in it became apparent the finer garment would find it's place after all. At least it wasn't a funeral, although it was for the dead he wore his inky garb, just not the ones he got it for. Paired with all black leather he felt like an ominous pale-faced raven sweeping in on Leafchange winds to ask permission instead of forgiveness for once. He stood before the doors to the bear's den and found himself hesitating, closed fist hovering an inch from the polished door as if waiting for a sign that never came.

A quick rap on the door, a sigh and a moment of patience was rewarded with a a stiff greeting answered with a curt bow and a statement of name and business. Gone was the usual cheery voice carrying the Northwind's gale, in it's stead was the hollow whisper of a better man. One set aside his childish notions of justice in place for a devotion to a greater good, a quest from above demanding a loyal servant.

His body followed the doorman through the lavishly decorated halls and into a grand hall that should had had Are's jaw by his knees, but he was not wholly there. No the shoewarrior was in his mind still defiantly fending off the final assault of all that opposed his goals, a stoic hero on his way to victory, and a heroes death, to finally be lifted to the halls by the hands of Valkyries and to take a seat earned.

A moment went by and his body halted before the one he had came to see. It offered a deep, but stiff bow and from his mouth resounded a flat voice of a harsh dialect. "Heil ok sæl, your grace Zariah de Launcelyn, Queen of the Hollowed grounds. I am Are, son of Jorm, hailing from Aros of Midgård." Are said, careful to not let his voice dip or stutter. Cold and steady as the glacier, and growing in power as his mind seeped back into his body, taking in what was instead of dwelling on what could had been.
Force and magic use OK.
Zariah Launceleyn
the Merciless
Archmage of the Citadel
Age: 26 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 23 - Luck: 10
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 900
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#2
ZARIAH
I know I am a fierce Queen
When she heard of a guest seeking audience with her, Zariah was quick to rise to attend to this business. In the wake of the rather disastrous public audience that had been held, she expected quite a few disgruntled commoners to make their voices heard in the halls of her Manor. Better to attend to it quickly, rather than making them more angry with impatience.

Are would hear her coming well before he saw her, the sound of heels clicking on the floor the first sign of the Queen's presence. She walked in from a side entrance, as expected walking on boots with heels so high it seemed impossible that one should be able to move with such speed or grace as she did in them. She too was adorned in dark clothing, tight pants, a fitted top with a dangerously plunging neckline, the shoulders of which draped off into a short cape of sorts that rippled every time she moved her arms. Though she currently wore no crown, her head was haloed with wild, dark curls, framing her doll-like gaze.

This man was the first to ever greet her before being greeted, which already put her in a better mood than she might have otherwise been. "It is good to meet you, Are. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" she said, voice low and smooth as velvet.
And they know it too
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#3


Are
Her whole demeanor screamed regal in a way he had never seen before, suddenly what he little knew about royalty came into question. All he'd ever seen was law and decrees sent by a face on a coin. An uncaring statue convinced that the old ways had to give in to the new, yet the cobbler knew very well that the new ways always came in sin. As was the state of the realm he found himself in. Discontent and murmurs of rebellion growing rife, all because the words and actions of a porcelain face. One so very much more real than what he was used too and expected. For he had certainly not expected such a swift audience, nor being greeted as something beyond what he was, a simple man with a task and a question.

He found himself struck silent for a single moment, back in his own mind in earnest, but with thoughts a mess of 'whats' and 'hows'. A simple man, a cobbler, a warrior, but none of it mattered, for then and there he was none of it. No, he was merely an servant of something greater, and sought to not make things worse before they could become better.

"I will not waste your time, your grace, I take it you have more important matters to attend to." Are said and paused to catch his thoughts and wet his suddenly dry lips. "I am here to ask permission rather than forgiveness, to avoid any ill will I might otherwise attract." he continued, doing exactly what he had said he was avoiding. Another pause, a hard swallow down a dry throat as he approached the matter at hand. "I come to ask of you to allow me entrance into the Greatwood." he finally managed to say.
Force and magic use OK.
Zariah Launceleyn
the Merciless
Archmage of the Citadel
Age: 26 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 23 - Luck: 10
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 900
MP:
#4
ZARIAH
I know I am a fierce Queen
Zariah’s head tilted slightly, considering the man before her though her expression did not change. Clearly he had some experience with a more organized system, calling her your grace and the humble manner in which he presented himself. It was refreshing really, to not need to lord magic or threats over someone to have their respect. Finally, someone with some sense, even if just enough to keep his head above water. ”My most important matter is to tend to the people of the Hollowed Grounds. So long as your matter is not to bemoan the inequalities of life, I should think my time well spent.” she said, falling silent as he went on to explain his purpose.

Ah, someone following the laws. Truly a breath of fresh air.

”A wise course of action, and one so few have followed.” Zariah said, crossing her arms. ”But why ever should you need to go traipsing into the Greatwood? The Fae have expressed their dislike of our people scouring their land and I should like to respect that wish.” Clearly if he wanted to go into the Greatwood with permission, he had better have good reason.
And they know it too
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#5


Are
As positive an outlook as the man tried to keep there was still limits to what even he could hope for, and for the newly instated queen to just waive laws of her own making had been a bit to naive, even for Are. It wasn't as he came unprepared though, because never had he let little rays of light wash away every niggling doubt, so instead he scratched his first attempt up to good practice. Of etiquette if not sound reasoning.

A sigh as he unwrapped the mental parcel he had hoped could be left stashed for a more appropriate time, not that an audience with the queen wasn't that. It was just a matter of a man growing ever more careful as his days in Caido had proven to him the worth of a still tongue at times. "The álfar have no say in the will of the gods, and neither do I." he said, leaning on the old tongue as he almost spat what the Fae was in his eyes. "I, on the other hand, has been given a task from the Shepherd, one that would take me along the Stonesong. It has been said you won't hinder the work of the gods." Are relented and told of his intent in as sparse detail as he dared, for Death itself was far more intimidating than even one called The Merciless.
Force and magic use OK.
Zariah Launceleyn
the Merciless
Archmage of the Citadel
Age: 26 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 23 - Luck: 10
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 900
MP:
#6
ZARIAH
I know I am a fierce Queen
The Queen quirked a brow, her head tilting lightly to the side as she considered the man. Some of what he said sounded like babble to her – perhaps he spoke some other language – but she managed to get the gist of it. He wanted to go traipsing into the Greatwood because a god told him to. Sigh. Clearly some folk around here couldn’t simply leave well enough alone.

”Indeed, I will not intervene in the affairs of the gods if I can help it.” she said, lifting a hand to examine her nails, as if bored by his request. Which she was. Why would she be remotely interested in anything that did not directly affect the grounds? ”However, it seems a convenient excuse. A god told me to go skipping about the Greatwood that the Fae don’t wish me to be in.” she said giving him a cold look. ”Why would a god give you a job within the realm of the Fae? And just what is it they intend for you to do?”
And they know it too
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#7


Are
That cold look, the words that preceded it, and those that followed. It all made cold determination slowly turn hot, anger brewing in the man trying his best to imitate the chilly humbleness of the servant. His purpose was clear, and it was not to bicker and fight, although spilling his patron's purpose for him wasn't either what he had in mind. A better man had proudly displayed his quest, a hero had never hesitated in speaking up about what the Shepherd had offered him, and what they had ordered him.

"I am not one to question the gods, let alone the Sauðamaðr. They gave me a quest to show my worth, to gather what is needed for them to provide me protection." Are said with a voice thoughtfully kept not much more than a whisper. At the verge of letting too much emotion shine through the pitiful mask he had donned.
Force and magic use OK.
Zariah Launceleyn
the Merciless
Archmage of the Citadel
Age: 26 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 6 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 21 - Endr: 23 - Luck: 10
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 900
MP:
#8
ZARIAH
I know I am a fierce Queen
Zariah considered him quietly. As hard as he tried to keep himself in check - his anger, his frustration - it was all plain as day to her. But she spent her days analyzing people, searching for the small, almost imperceptible signs of emotion. The pace of his breath, the shift of his eyes, the slight clench in his jaw - all things that would be easily missed by most. But not this queen.

At least he made an effort to keep it all together.

She remained quiet for a time, letting him sit and stew in the anxiety of the unknown for a moment. "Fine. Don't go into the Sidhe Village though. My protections cannot reach you there." she said, producing a small token from her pocket and handing it to him. "This gives you free pass into the Wood. I expect it to be promptly returned when you come back from your adventuring."
And they know it too
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#9


Are
A moment of silent hung in the air, clinging on his conscious, a cloying bitter sweetness at the back of his throat smothering the little pang of joy that had his heart skip. Doubt, nervousness, and tension should all had washed off him as the hurdle was swept away with the simple gesture. A small token carrying with it more meaning than the would be queen could fathom. At least it did for the cobbler-turned-warrior now able to carry out his quest without stepping on more toes than necessary.

"Thank you, your grace. I will not dawdle." Are said and held the token up to the light, observing it as if it would unveil some hidden knowledge or deep rooted secret. "Not in my duty nor here, this simple cobbler shall not steal more of your day." he said and offered a stiff bow both in thanks and as to punctuate what pleasantries he had managed to cobble together between racing thoughts and niggling doubts.
Force and magic use OK.


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