The Lords of Wakesworth

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The Lords of Wakesworth

The Lords of Wakesworth refers to the group of First Ones which joined Prince Richard of Arescod in his County of Wakesworth.

The notable First Ones of this group consist of the following: Rothrik de Villiers, Lyonell Vintroth, Wilhelm Jäger, Maxo Berryton, Alaric d'al Castleton, Elise of Arles, Victor Saltzpyre, Markus Kruber, Claudia Highstone, Sigeraed Rheinmar, Morgan Blackmere, Franz Mann, Gerontis of Rynir "Grey Wolf", Sarah Vilnar, Austine of Rynir, Richard Fothmore, Ancel Halfhaven, Arn Thorngaard, and Francis Hayard.

The Wakesworth Court

As the First Ones who would become the Lords of Wakesworth arrived at the Prince's court and very quickly began to insult eachother. The early days of the Wakesworth Court set a precedent for fierce competition between the many nobles, seeking to distinguish themselves through through their skills, actions, and wit.

The Wakesworth Court

by Richard of Arescod on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 21:04)

The Court of Wakesworth, home to Count Richard of Arescod is a place where influential men seem to gather. As last surviving member of the noble house of Arescod that founded the Kingdom of Ascalon the Count carries a burden unlike many other great men of his station. While some thought when he denied his right of accession and inheritance that he was a weak man, unfit for rule, those at his court learned otherwise. When some said that he was a coward for going on a pilgrimage to avoid having to deal with his succession and letting the King's mistress or second wife ascend, his retainers speak the contrary, having witnessed him in battle.

The only thing that all of the men seem to agree about is that his court is one of Ascalon's finest. It is not the greatest nor the richest, but the beautiful landscape, rich wines and chivalrous air is unequalled across the kingdom in these days.

The great hall is modest compared to that of Arescod, meaning that it is large enough to accomodate enough space to host the entirety of the Queen's mounted garde's mounts and remounts. The hall is filled with banners lining the walls, some of local knights, some taken in war, some of fallen heroes of the Ascalonian Kingdom. Adoring the wall above the throne of the great lord however, hangs the proud and renowned banner of the House of Arescod.

“Welcome to Wakesworth, my vassals. The time has come for the newcomers at my court to introduce themselves with good wine and good wit, so we may judge your worthiness. I am looking for positions in my council to fill, important positions, and I shall await handing out these responsibilities until I know each and every one of you.”

by Lyonell Vintroth on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 21:46)

Judge worthiness with wit? Well then, it would seem that the contest is already over! I would congratulate both myself and Rothrik de Villiers, for there are none more worthy of such an accolade.

by Wilhelm Jäger on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:07)

If it is a man of action you need then need waste no more time as I am here and willing to get the job done. Sadly the same cannot be said for the rest of the nobles here, as I believe that this Rothrik de Villiers as I hear he would much rather be at home attending his squires than serving you my lord.

by Lyonell Vintroth on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:13)

Is it not a distasteful thing to comment on what a man might attend? If this is truly what we consider wit, than I might as well be the one that points out that you Jäger - hunter - attends to your prey in a less than proper fashion.

by Wilhelm Jäger on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:20)

Ah, I see that Lord Rothrik has a deer of his own to defend him when he does not do so himself, may I suggest Lyonell Vintroth you think on your friend carefully or you may find him attending yourself soon enough.

by Lyonell Vintroth on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:24)

Very good Wilhelm, very good. However, I am sure you realise that unlike yourself and Rothrik, I have my own far more natural preferences. You can be sure of that my deer friend.

by Wilhelm Jäger on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:26)

It has been too long Lyonell! I am glad to see that you haven’t changed a bit, old friend. It is good that we Ascalonians still hold true to ourselves even after all of this time.

by Richard of Arescod on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:14)

Pardon me messires, but I don’t believe that all present at this court are fully aware of our recent venture and how you met. Perhaps you would like to tell the court of how this came to be?

by Lyonell Vintroth on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:28)

Of course My Lord. Rothrik, Wilhelm and I go far back indeed! I saved their lives several times you see.

by Wilhelm Jäger on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:30)

My dear friend, you are getting forgetful in your old age! While I don't argue that you saved quivering Rothrik here, I remember it rather differently.

by Markus Kruber on 9-38-4 (April 28, 2016 23:26)

As a humble knight of the corelands, Prince Richard gave me the honour of a post beyond my previous station. If you would also be so benevolent as to give me a fief of my own, I will create a noble family that will be completely devoted to the service and protection of you and your great House. As to the council, if you deem me worthy for a position I will take it with pride my lord, but as of now I do not see myself as a plausible candidate, take instead one of your more famous vassals and let me prove my loyalty to thine House first.

by Rothrik de Villiers on 9-39-2 (April 29, 2016 18:43)

It seems that before we've introduced ourselves, Wilhelm Jäger has found it fitting to start throwing empty insults around. I'd give you a roasting for your incompetence but I couldn't find a spit large enough, though I'm sure a quick burning will do for such a bland individual.

I see that despite mulling around the County for some time you've been incapable of taking a swamp from a handful of unarmed cultists, I'll assume that it was yourself, rather than your carts that first began sinking into the ground. And what's this I hear of you 'forgetting' to send your taxes to the Queen? It's a shame that the people of Arescod and your own lands must starve because you managed to personally consume the land's food stocks within days of your arrival.

As for my Squires, I like to train them for the future, though I doubt you'd know of this as you're yet to learn which is the pointy end. The closest that Wilhelm Jäger has been to combat was getting shot by a messenger whilst making horse noises.

Alas, it is nice to see you've finally enlarged the doors of your hall so that you can leave the pantry and pay us a visit on your way to scurry North to kiss the Queen's feet after our liege Prince Richard of Arescod had to explain your predicament personally. It is true that we have met before, I believe that all of the new men you see in your court today were on the same expedition to recover an artefact for the dear Prince of Ascalon. Lord Lyonell Vintroth proved to be a worthy acquaintance and a very competent man. Sir Markus Kruber, though unnoteworthy to most proved to be a skilled fighter! I am glad that he has finally been given a chance to show his talent, though it is a long road ahead. I'd talk of myself, but I feel that there is no need for the time being. I look forward, alongside my esteemed friends to serving our lord, may the times ahead be prosperous.

As an aside, I do believe there is a tapestry commissioned by the King depicting one of his encounters, I'm sure you'll recognise our dear friend Wilhelm immediately. You can ask at the Library of Arescod for the following:

by Lyonell Vintroth on 9-39-2 (April 29, 2016 19:03)

It is good to know Rothrik that your wit has not left you. A good thing for all, except perhaps for our Hunter of deers and boars. We will have to keep hoping he never mistakes himself for the boar he might be hunting.

The Wedding at Slumberstone

The Slumberstone Wedding was the first time that the First Ones of Wakesworth had spoken to Ascalon's northern nobility outside of the Ascalonian Royal Court. Only Richard, Rothrik and Elise attended, though the event was watched by nobles from across Wakesworth and the rest of Ascalon.

The Wedding at Slumberstone

by Caspian Flambard on 10-25-1 (July 8, 2016 14:33)

It was a long ride through a cold and misty country but finally you have arrived. Today no fog obscures your vision for a change, the sun shines brightly but offers little warmth. The town of Slumberstone lies before you, a collection of robust wooden houses mostly built in Ascalonian style but with heavy norse influences. Stone wall encircles the town but the gate is flung open with only a small cadre of mortal swordsmen and archers in black and gold liveries guarding it. Clenched fists of house Lonmouth flaunt in the icy steppe wind beside ducal suns, clearly a great honour shown to a landed knight.

A young herald meets you at the gate and solemnly invites to follow him. As you ride along the paved streets you see mortals drinking, dancing and partaking in all sorts of festive activities. Misthelm is not a merry land but whenever there is a celebration, locals obviously try to get the most out of it.

Finally you reach Slumberstone hold, a vast and heavily fortified stone building standing on a low elevation and encircled by a wall. Swarthy Sarantian mercenaries clad in intricate southern breastplates and tall steel helmets guard the keep. Your horses are led away and you enter the great hall, where many guests are already assembled and the wedding feast is underway. Still the bride and groom are yet to arrive.

by Richard of Arescod on 10-25-1 (July 8, 2016 15:14)

Prince Richard had arrived leading a small detachment of Wakesworth chivalry clad in Ascalonian plate armour. He himself was dressed similarly although he wore an ornate silken surcout shouting his allegiance. The road to Misthelm had been long and rough, and despite being an experienced traveller it had been unpleasant. When he had laid his eyes upon the town he could see how little had changed over the years. It had been almost four years since he had bled to defend these lands from the Stoned Lands of the North, and coming here was as if travelling into the past. Nowhere in Ascalon was the tribal warrior-culture of the North felt more than here at the borders. Coarse-looking wooden houses instead of fine masonry filled the streets and although Richard was not untouched by the intricate decorative carpentry, he was a man of the South.

The streets were bustling with activity and as he passed through the people bowed made way. As his father had told him not long before he died after negotiating with Northern clansmen, the North remembers. They did. Not even 20 kilometers North-East of here two great battles had been fought where he had personally led the King's guard of 250 mailed knights, and the scars of that battle still adorned his face. It had been a close fight, one in which many of the locals had seen sons go to, but not return.

The keep itself was curiously guarded by foreigners, and the Prince made notion to investigate such a curious fact. These men were far from home. The building itself reminded him of Arescod's keep in a sense. It had the same imposing walls and towers but lacked the grace or lightness the royal keep had. It was a clear sign that the border was nearby. Prince Richard pressed on was admitted to the keep. Once there he was attended by his squires to disarm and before long he appeared in the great hall dressed in a deep blue silk doublet under a dark red overgrown with black woollen hoses. With the bride and groom still missing, Richard settled in the middle of the hall conversing with his courtiers about the town and its guards.

by Bastard of Brancaster on 10-25-1 (July 8, 2016 17:11)

"Let's just get on with it." Dwigher tried to calm his brother down. Broose was angry as hell as the furious grimace covered his face. The bastard sons of Ser Alistair Lonmouth were trekking for days to reach Misthelm's capital. The long and victorious campaign in the south-east saw them on the march for weeks, yet their return was a lordly one. At least they thought so. Each of them saw estates coming under their command, where riches, women and reavers abounded. They liked that but still it was a bitter reward. Ser Alistair was a cunning man. He sent his bastard sons to conquer in his name and the banner of Havengate and upon their return he promised them landed titles and official acknowledgment of their bloodline. They were his offspring after all, even though their mother was a local whore, and they saw it fit to one day inherit any titles or land that their father obtained for his lifetime. But it seemed now that this was a pipe dream. A wedding with the northern princess assured that she would be the one giving birth to heirs, while the titles they were promised ensured that their father's bastards are far away from their home.

Once their entourage reached the ducal keep Broose stormed at the southern mercenaries that were guarding the keep. "Get outta way! The Lonmouth sons are here!" His prideful announcement was met with the stern looks of the guards though, until one of them finally replied. "There are no Lonmouth sons on the list. Lost, perhaps, are we? Ts-ts-ts." The mercenary gave him a mocking look as he grinned towards him. "How dare you, you miserable cur?! I am Ser Broose Lonmouth of Marnmouth, and this here is my brother..." He was quickly interrupted once the guard raised his hand and spoke again. "Ah, I see a name. Marnmouth and Brancaster. You must be the Bastards of Marnmouth and Brancaster, I presume?" He carried on with laughter as the other guards chimed in. Quickly he continued, feinting respect as his tongue was hissing like that of a snake. "Come inside. Bastards."

Broose was ready to spill this man's guts. He reached for his sword but felt the hand of Dwigher on his sword arm, staying his hand before he done something stupid. "Easy now, we don't want to do something like that at all..."They quickly rushed forward into the keep leaving their men outside the keep. Clearly a brighter of the two Dwigher gently caressed his ginger goatee as they entered. "Come, brother. Let us see what this wench is about".

by Agrimm Zhatulhai on 10-25-2 (July 8, 2016 19:39)

Agrimm Zhatulhai arrived in Slumberstone wearing a crimson coat of plates with two medals attached on its chest: the bronze sun of Emperor's Largess on the left and the golden lion of Ascalon on the right. The uniform was found in the arsenal of Aralion and most likely belonged to an unlucky mortal officer that was captured by the barbarians. It was the only clothing he could find in Aralion that seemed fit for a royal wedding, along with a finely made broadsword he managed to get hold on.

He arrives at the Keep and he sees the scene with the Lonmouth sons. He orders his retinue of leather armoured halberdiers to stay put and guard his horse and approaches the entrance of the keep, introducing himself to the belligerent Sarantiumguard. Sir Zhatulhai, lord Flambard has told us of your arrival. Please, enter. Agrimm enters the Keep and arrives in the great hall, along with the other guests.

by Rannveig the Fair on 10-25-3 (July 9, 2016 00:52)

Rannveig arrived to Slumberstone with a small retinue of four riders. All of them tall proud women with haircuts similar to her own. Each carried a sword and wore a steel mail reinforced with plates in the fashion of steppe clans. As they rode through the town people hushed gazing at the women in wonder. Rannveig entered the great hall flanked by her fierce bodyguards and took a long look around. Her eyes showed neither excitement nor amiability. A cold hard gaze of a conqueror not a bride. There was not one familiar face in the hall and she lingered apparently waiting to be approached by the hosts. Handing her fur cloak and sword to one of her companions she dusted her leather pants and boots with a glove. It soon became apparent she was not planning to change for the ceremony.

by Rothrik de Villiers on 10-25-5 (July 9, 2016 17:21)

Baron Rothrik arrived at Slumberstone with a handful of riders wearing brigandines beneath their thick cloaks. They had initially seemed suspicious, but the quality and condition of their armour made it clear that they at least weren't bandits. He had not announced his arrival, nor had he made any attempt to inform the hosts of his visit beforehand. His party strolled through the gates, ignoring the guards and beginning a tour of the city. The Baron had expected Slumberstone to be the shining beacon of the north, yet he was thoroughly unimpressed. The city was large and populous, yet it had only served to attract more pig farmers and expand the slums, he didn't look down upon the people, yet he wondered why so many people inhabited this peculiar location. The inner districts of the city were as pleasant as one would expect, yet he couldn't help but think that it served only to guard desolate wastes, and with so many unproductive mouths to feed it was hardly a well thought out stronghold either.

Rothrik's party stabled their horses and he headed to the site of the wedding. He remained inconspicuously at the back of the hall throughout the proceedings, yet those that passed him couldn't help but notice his noble crest placed neatly on his clothing. If not for all of his aggravative letters he had signed, it would be unlikely that anyone would have noticed who he was.

by Dorian Halfhaven II on 10-25-6 (July 9, 2016 19:48)

Dorian was looking forward to having a drink with Duke Caspian again as it had been too long. Seeing his sister Sylvia and his nephew Tristan would be pleasant as well, but drinking is drinking. The Lonmouth's rise to power had been impressive and Dorian remarked that this event befitted the efforts of that tireless man and his sons. Or bastards, but every noble has their devils. Dorian was led into the familiar Great Hall and sat at the table, inspecting the wine. A delicate southern vintage was always to his liking, and poured himself a goblet eagerly. Sitting down and delighted, Dorian awaited the ceremonies.

by Caspian Flambard on 10-26-5 (July 11, 2016 00:40)

The Duke himself traversed the hall, making a point to personally greet every important guest. He wore a black embroidered doublet and a heavy cloak of bear fur, golden jewelry decorating his fingers, neck and even his braided beard. He was obviously in a jovial mood and kept his wife close, for while doing his Queen's bidding he did not see her for many long months. Their infant son Tristan was also present, cradled in Duchess' gentle hands. He gave Dorian a slap on the shoulder and a bear hug, a show of affection toward a kinsman. Then turned to the highest ranking guest. "Your Highness! I hope your journey was not too tiresome. We appreciate your presence in Slumberstone on this important day. My house is your house, as we say in the north." The Prince did not take after his father or grandfather, a lanky unimposing youth. But the eyes.. those were definitely Roran's.

There were other guests he did not recognize and those who he recognized but chose to ignore for obvious reasons. He certainly did not expect to see Lonmouth's bastards here but it was too late to start a fuss now. Now the bride was a special case. Caspian was somewhat aware of clansmen's customs and offered the woman a cup of wine himself to emulate barbarian hospitality.

Now where the hell was Lonmouth? He sure hoped the knight did not decide to bail out at the last moment.

by Richard of Arescod on 10-26-5 (July 11, 2016 02:03)

The Prince greeted Duke Caspian with a smile after undergoing a brief inspection by the Duke. It amused him that tha tall and imposing Duke before him was almost a year younger than himself, appearing entirely unintimidating at roughly the same length but not nearly the same width in the shoulders. He had learned over the years not to mind it. If anything it had set opponents off guard.

"Your land is a rough one, like coarse wool. I appreciate it for the ruggedness and vitality it possesses, yet today those same qualities have worn me out." He replied. "I am humbled by your gracious welcome messire."

As the Duke left to attend his other guest and all the other countless things he as a host had to worry about the Prince observed the odd leather-clad lady who had just arrived. Her hairstyle was unique and unknown to him and while she had a wild attraction to her features, like one would appreciate a predator's, she was not quite an image of the ancient beauties as seen in contemporary paintings and old statues. Her bodyguards, equally intimidating warrior women looked around with aggressive gazes, as if challenging anyone their right to be here. He understood that she was to be the bride. She looked more as if she was called to war, and he wondered if that was what she expected of marriage.

Approaching his vassal baron the prince smiled. "Greetings my friend. It would seem the bride has arrived. I cannot help but think she is here to wage war. I doubt poor ser Lonmouth is quite prepared for what is to come this night."

by Rothrik de Villiers on 10-27-2 (July 11, 2016 22:59)

Rothrik nodded his head to the Prince, smirking at his remarks. "The Loudmouth dog has brought his own dogs, yet it seems that this 'bride' is more of a shaved bear than any woman I know, a great change from the little girls he sired his bastard runts on. To each his own, I say, though I wonder how low a man has to fall for him to marry that big lump." He gave a warm smile to the Prince, glad to see him informally for once.

"I'll bet you Rattlebone's weight in silver that Lonmouth is squealing by the end of the night. The lanky bastards of Misthelm think of themselves as hardy northern folk, but that big lass has more balls than the lot of 'em put together." He chuckled, tapping the stone wall behind him. "They've got the worst of both worlds, they're not as tough or ferocious as the Rathgari and Lowlanders, yet they lack the knowledge to build proper walls. These will hold, but it looks like the idiots in charge think that building walls as thick as Hayard's skull is better than making an actual fortification. It's cute that Duke Caspian tries though, however much he may fail to understand the basic principles of having 'friends' and that a bastard mercenary poking him with a stick isn't worth losing hundreds of the crown's best men, he at least means well. Alas, he isn't lord of Dimwood for no reason."

by Richard of Arescod on 10-27-3 (July 12, 2016 02:28)

The Prince smiled and shook his head as one of his favourite barons did what he did best, talk like a common mercenary. It humoured him as much as it frustrated him at times, since the nobility outside of his own demesne was not accustomed to his behaviour, often leading to ‘’confrontations’’. "You may be in the right. She reminds me of the last time I met a Northern woman in person. When I was but a year old my grandfather took me with him as a squire to fight off two raiding Rathgari, a man and a woman. Despite outnumbering them three to one and having a seasoned retinue of archers backed up by our chivalry the woman stood her ground and laughed at our pretense of trying to kill her all the while she took wound after wound. Her male companion had long fled the field before she made her escape, having wounded several of our veterans and dismounting me with humiliating ease."* The Prince said, recalling the event which was far more amusing in hindsight than it had been before.

"Northern women generally have trouble finding a proper man, especially in the South. I still recall Lord Sander of Arescod's stories of Lady Ashley Van Valen during the Iungard Galas, desperately trying to marry a worthy husband."

by Bard Talonclaw on 10-27-3 (July 12, 2016 03:38)

Bard wandered around the hall for a long time, towering around almost all the rest of the people gathered, a cup of whatever passed as beverage there firmly in his hand, and four knights in their feathered helms following him around.

Noticing the bride, he soon turned his face, a grimace on his face as the barbarian women ambled around. Having spotted the Prince discussing with a noble, he walked toward them, bringing his massive fist to his chest and bowing to show his respect "Greetings Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you" he said, before turning to the other man, eyeing from head to toe, with special care for his crest "Baron de Villiers I presume, now here's someone who seems decent enough to know, allow me to introduce. I'm Lord Bard Talonclaw, from Falconreach, I quite liked your intervention in the court" he said with a smirk, his expression once more clouding as more northerners strolled around "And here I thought I'd be dead before seeing barbarians mixing blood with Ascalonian nobility...must be the sign of the times" he added, resting his sword hand on top of the peculiar mace at his side, the flanges resembling rapacious beaks.

by Alistair Lonmouth on 10-27-2 (July 11, 2016 19:02)

Alistair arrived last, apologizing to everyone for his lateness. He didn't care much for the decorum and he wore his usual dark cape with the white fur on top and the white fist tailored into it.. Underneath it though, he wore a fine iron plate, especially polished for the occasion. As he turned around to greet the guests he gave an especially deep bow and a smile to his future bride and a bow of respect to the ruling family of Havengate. He then approached the Duke. "I am honored to be here, my Lord."

by Elise of Arles on 10-27-3 (July 12, 2016 02:20)

Baroness Elise of Arles arrived a little bit later escorted by a column of knights dressed in the Magvellian style. Shiny steel armours with tall bascinets, although to her interest one of them had acquired an Ascalonian breastplate somewhere. What all of these knights had in common however was that each of them had a flower buckled to their colourful tabards. The lady baroness herself wore a deceitfully simple green dress which was elegant in its design. She too had a flower pinned to her attire, although hers was a blue anemone signifying grace and charm, where her knights wore pink snapdragons, meaning strength. Those knowledgeable of symbolism would also know that they could mean deception. Entering the main hall of the feast Lady Elise quickly recognised the Northern woman that was to be the bride. With a condescending smile she walked past, thinking what Ranvegg the Fair would think of being outshone at her own wedding. Elise would have felt guilty if not for the fact that she had deliberately dressed modestly to avoid this very thing occurring. In the corner of the hall she saw Baron Rothrik converse with Prince Richard and she decided to steer clear of both of them. She needn't be reminded of her troubles with the baron.

Instead she approached the groom who appeared to be wearing armour polished specifically for the occasion. As she came closer she could see her own reflection in the resplendent steel, which made her lips curl up. "Greetings messire, I believe I have not had the pleasure of being introduced to you yet?"

by Caspian Flambard on 10-27-3 (July 12, 2016 04:11)

"About time", Caspian muttered to himself as Lonmouth strolled into the hall. The Duke couldn't wait to get to the feast. He clapped his hands once and numerous servants scuttled forth to show each guest his place at the table. Most landed nobility got a place at the central section. Prince and his vassals were seated to the right of the young couple, Duke and his kin to the left. Lesser nobles found themselves a bit farther from the center but still at a talking distance. Only the bastards of the groom were seated below the salt among common knights.

After the first hunger was appeased, the Duke stood up, cup in hand. "Now we observe the ancient tradition, my friends. Time for wedding gifts and toasts. I will go first." A subtle gesture and two Sarantian guards step forward, carrying a small but apparently heavy chest. Once the lid was opened you saw a bunch of papers and on top of them a pair of twin swords lying in scabbards of rose gold. "On this day you become a Count and Countess of the realm. These official papers will secure your dominion over the land north and east of Northwatch Keep. And if papers are not enough, you will use these fine swords. Here's to bride and groom!" Caspian chugged his wine and sat down, yielding spotlight to the next speaker.

by Alistair Lonmouth on 10-27-6 (July 12, 2016 22:45)

"We are honored to receive this great gift, my Lord. May the north of Misthelm shine in the wake of this new County, and may our enemies fall to the ground at the sound of our thundering hooves." Alistair responded, clearly glad to finally be promised a County. He winced at his new wife, smiling all along. May our children grow strong, my love! He clapped and took a cup of wine, emptying it.

"Now, let us see what great gifts do our southern brethren bring. I have heard great words of hospitality and generosity that them southerners pride themselves with. Show it to me." He clearly gazed at the Prince to his right and the crew gathered around him.

by Richard of Arescod on 10-27-6 (July 12, 2016 23:15)

The Prince sighed at being interrupted in his conversation but walked over to the center of the hall where the duke had just granted a county as wedding gift. The newly annointed count then invited, or challenged the other guests to present their gifts. It was as if the man dared the Southern guests to have a gift that could equal that he received from his liege lord.

"I wish to congratulate you with your wedding messire. I hope that your house may flourish in the future so it may establish itself as a lasting value in the eons to come." The Prince said. "As for a gift... You are bold when you claim our hospitality to be so renowned, and I would love for you to try this gift as a guest at my court some day. I gift you this magnificent warhorse." He said and gestured to the door of the main hall where a servant appeared.

The servant was leading a tall mottled grey-white destrier who reluctantly let himself be led into the hall. The horse had elegant long legs and a stout chest. Its steel hooves echoed on the tile floor reminiscent of a majestic cavalry charge. The proud horse came to a stop before the prince and the count and shook its manes in defiance. The destrier was hot-blooded and bore a respectable collection of scars just like its master.

"This is Father Jerome. He has been my trusted steed in many a joust and is a veteran of over a dozen fights. He is about at the age to sire many a worthy foal and should provide you and your future children with a strong bloodline of warhorses. Do not look at his scars and think he is old, but instead know that he has bested worthy knights before." The prince said, and handed the reins over to the count. "I hope he will serve you well."

by Dorian Halfhaven II on 10-28-1 (July 13, 2016 03:09)

After the good Duke and Prince Richard had gave their gifts and respective toasts, Dorian stood up in good humor. With hand and golden goblet raised in the air, Dorian said "To congratulate the new Lord Lonmouth on his much deserved advancement, my friend you may choose either twenty experienced longbowmen or halberdiers from the retinue of Havengate." Right when he seemed to be about to stop speaking, Dorian went on saying "Lord Alistair should be an icon for all, what loyal service and hard work shall get you in Misthelm. He has done Havengate and Slumberstone innumerable services, and truly he is the one defending the Northern border with the strictest vigil of us all." Satisfied with himself, Dorian raised his hand more prominently "Let us toast to this fruitful union, that should bring peace to our borders for a long time to come."

by Rannveig the Fair on 10-28-1 (July 13, 2016 03:43)

When a person of tremendous pride and self-importance is cast into unfamiliar environment things can quickly get awkward. Rannveig stood in the middle of the hall, holding her nose high up, her arms crossed. She never returned a bow as it was something clansmen despised and seemed to not really appreciate duke's attempts to be cute with her. When her would-be husband arrived at last some interest finally appeared on her face. She allowed the servants to lead her to her seat and sat down by Alistair's side. Her bodyguards stood silently behind her answering all attempts to seat them with minor knights with wild and defiant glares. Rannveig ate and drank little, seemingly only to be polite. Duke's present she accepted with a graceful but cold smile. The destrier though made her nod approvingly. The beast was too slow and bulky, nothing like steppe steeds she was used to, but she knew a fine horse when she saw one. Young Dorian's speech was also accepted favourably, it was good to hear her husband was indeed held in high esteem by his peers. Alistair's own words made her smile though and it was not a particularly nice smile. One of her bodyguards said something to her companions in their language and moved her sword back and forth in the scabbard. The lot burst in a rather coarse laughter. "We shall have sons, my knight." Rannveig spoke in a raspy voice. "Strong riders, true blood of the North." She cast an eloquent glance at the table where Lonmouth bastards were seated.

by Alistair Lonmouth on 10-28-4 (July 13, 2016 23:31)

Alistair listened with glee as the guests presented their gifts. "A destrier. That is quite an admirable beast, Lord Prince. It will serve my family well. He smiled and nodded to the gathered peers to his right. I accept this gift as the gift from Wakesworth and the southern peerage. My wife and me will use it in the forthcoming campaign."

He then turned towards Lord Halfhaven. "My Lord, I expected no less than proven warriors from such a respectable family as you own. I shall have my pick be the halberdiers and will visit your father on my way back to the north. My service to him is sadly done, but my County will always stay side by side with Havengate. " He took a deep bow and noticed the northerners in commotion and laughter. He did not like them. But he did not like his wife either. The little lady had no idea what she was getting herself into, after all.

"True blood of the North indeed, my love." He grinned and raised another toast. With a glance he caught Broose and Dwigher's table and gave a slight wink to them. They returned only cold gazes and disgust.

"For now, I give the word to our most honorable host and my liege Lord, who has so generously hosted this event." Alistair proceeded and bowed in Duke's direction. "If there is more entertainment to be had that would be swell. If not, I would be ready to expose a special surprise I have for this evening before we all get drunk..." His attempt at a joke saw the more common knights burst out in laughter which certainly loosened the atmosphere.

by Caspian Flambard on 10-30-1 (July 16, 2016 00:29)

Caspian smirked at the joke, glancing at his brother-in-law. "There is in fact something I had in mind, but that's perhaps for after the feast. There is a cave nearby my castle oozing with fogborn beasts. I wanted to propose a hunt, a warrior's game for those who wish to test their mettle. In the meantime, I am all for surprises unless they'll somehow damage my castle. I have just finished building it."

by Alistair Lonmouth on 10-30-4 (July 16, 2016 22:43)

After sipping another cup of wine into his mouth Alistair rethought his position. "I will, after all, reschedule a surprise I had in mind, my Lords. It might not be appropriate." He glances the southern gentry that were gathered here. "Instead, let us dance and drink! And afterwards we can root out these pesky beasts that plague our Lords land." With it, he grabs a first woman he could reach and hops off at the sound of the starting music.

by Agrimm Zhatulhai on 10-30-4 (July 16, 2016 21:58)

Agrimm hears about the cave and suddenly becomes interested. There's nothing more fitting in this rugged land than to celebrate a wedding with a hunt.