Empire! The Nanda Triumph

[Aedilred]

This is an event for the Empire! game. Invited guests are welcome. Uninvited guests are tolerated.

Spring 111

The Triumph is to be held not in the regular capital of Teyasi, but in the rather more ancient city of Avali, which also has the advantage of being rather more accessible by water. Many of the fields around the city are occupied by a large military camp, although there is still plenty of space for people to establish their own tents if necessary. While it might be possible to find somewhere to stay in the city itself at short notice, it is likely to be expensive!

Within the walls the streets, especially along the parade route, are hung with bright bunting and banners, in a spirit of celebration. Small stalls in side streets sell souvenirs of varying quality, while sharps and hucksters call out for people to try their dubiously fair games for the chance to win cash money, or buy wares even dodgier than those available from the fixed stalls. There is an air of excitement as people anticipate the entertainment to come, and tavern-owners and shopkeepers hope for a surge in trade.

---

Simultaneously with the triumph, games and festivities are happening all over and around the city. Some of them are even sanctioned by the crown.

The Cavalcade of Heroes

Entrants imitate an ancient (or legendary) hero, be that attempting to emulate their deeds, deliver a famous oration in their style, or some other means. Inventiveness is encouraged. After an initial display to the people, they then join the back of the triumph parade. At the end of the triumph, a "hero of the triumph" is announced, awarded to the one the judges found the most impressive or convincing. Although most of the entrants are common folk and there is no financial reward, many people put a lot of effort into their entries, and many of the costumes are impressive.

Jousting and Racing

Initially started by bored soldiers, these have grown to the point where pick-up entries or challenges are common. Races may be on foot, mounted or in chariots, and over almost any reasonable distance. Some of them are simple circuits of a makeshift circus, while others may encompass the whole city, or even the whole camp. Jousting is meanwhile held in lists outside the town. Blunted lances are compulsory, and can be purchased if necessary.

Pole-sitting

In early triumphs people would often climb the buildings to get a better look at the procession. Eventually the rooftops became sufficiently cluttered that people began erecting scaffolds on top of the buildings themselves, and then poles, and so on. This has become such a common feature of parades across the kingdom that it has now become almost a competitive event: the person who can climb (and remain on!) the highest pole is considered to have "won". Young Nanda often attempt to climb tall poles at such events to prove themselves: falls are common.

Swimming the Scarlet Sea

For the exceptionally brave, foolhardy or flamboyant, a number of people gather on the morning of the triumph to swim out to a small island in the Scarlet Sea and back again. The first to return home is declared the winner, although this is largely nominal: it really is all about the participation. It may not seem like much of a challenge, but near the island the water is rougher than it looks, with concealed rocks, and often the lake can become clogged beneath the surface with witchweed, which can entangle even the strongest swimmer, and the shores of the island are muddy and treacherous.

Spoiler: Participating

Show

Roll 1d12 and add half the relevant attribute (rounded up). The highest score "wins" the event.

Cavalcade of Heroes: Diplomacy
Jousting: Military. On a natural 1 the contestant is killed, maimed or otherwise seriously injured!
Racing: Curiosity
Pole-Sitting: Faith. On a natural 1 the contestant falls off!
Swimming: Luck. On a natural 1 the contestant is dashed against rocks, becomes tangled in witchweed or suffers some other serious and life-threatening mishap!

Spoiler: Personalities

Show

The entire royal family of Nand is present, in varying states of availability. So are all senior officers of state.

[PepperP.]

The Ambrose Ascendancy



The Ambrose delegation had set up their tents amidst those of the Nand, their domain designated by colorful region banners that waved and snapped in the wind around the camp's perimeter. The deep crimson of Ambrose, the golden orange of Calendula, the soft purple of Wysteria, the bright green of Trifylli, the simurgh feather blue of Akovito, the moss green of Çangalamin, the pure silver of Paschalia, and the sunshine yellow of Amaranth, the most newly incorporated region, all flew their colors proudly on tall stakes sunk into the soft dirt of Andanand.

It had been some time since Derris had seen his son and heir, Archon Baram Asker, though he wrote home often of his adventurous exploits in Sasanand. Baram was 19 now, and a man grown, though he seemed content enough to continue his education with the Nanda, Derris knew the time would soon come for his son to take a wife and produce heirs of his own. He pushed thoughts of potential diplomatic matches aside for now, noting the matter would further need contemplating soon.

Belinda and Maldarr had each stayed behind with their young children, Derris had been accompanied by his father-in-law Aleksy Drivas, His Polemarchos from Clan Rosso, Arsen Rosso, and Arsen's wife, Derris's daughter, Alessa Rosso. Derris had eschewed his usual jacket in light of the heat, already in spring, Andanand was warmer than Ambrose was in the foothills of the Highbacks. Arsen was likewise chest-bare, Aleksy electing to cover his aged round bulk with a light breezy tunic of white linen. Alessa, never one to dress less than formally, was dressed well in a splendid flowy silk gown in the blue of her husband's banner, embroidered with gold thread that shimmered in the midday sun.

The small delegation made their way to the Nanda Queen's tent where they waited to be introduced by a herald, as Derris had learned the Nanda preferred formalities.

"Presenting Protos Archigos Derris Asker of Ambrose, Polemarchos Arsen Rosso, the Archessa Alessa Rosso, and esteemed guest Aleksy Drivas." Aleksy smiled a wicked grin around his cigarette. That he held no formal title was a smokescreen, he had his finger on many a heavyweight pulse.

[Mary_Sue]

The two emissaries from Avonlea had sailed the lengthy journey into the lands of Nand on board The Nightingale. As it's namesake darted through the skies, the small ship sailed speedily around the northern tip of their continent, and on to their destination with little trouble. The two official ambassadors, and members of the Queen's Ladies-in-Waiting, Helia Whitstone and Enyrre Blackswan were accompanied by an Acolyte of the Mother, Chere Nightshield from Evemoor and a contingent of High Queen Thalia's Queensguard and their squires, two of which held aloft the burgundy banner of Avonlea as they marched into the city.

An empty place for their delegation was found in the fields beyond the Nanda's own, and the guards and squires set to work erecting the large cloth pavilions that would be their home while they were here for the Triumph. Helia and Enyrre both chose to take the time to wash the travel grime off of their face and bodies before dressing to be presented to the Nand Queen. Helia left her pale blonde hair loose and flowing over her shoulders, the sides held out of her face by two matching jeweled hairpins, the same aqua-green as her eyes, her clean strapless gown a paler, dusky green. Enyrre wore her hair plaited in a long golden braid that hung down her back, a white lace ribbon that matched her dress had been threaded through the braid and was tied in a bow at the end of it.

The Acolyte Chere busied herself while the other two women were performing their ablutions by spurts of writing in a worn looking book with a threadbare cover interspersed with much muttering and bouts of staring off into space. Chere's platinum hair was long and wild, a braid held either side away from her face which was mostly hidden by the large hood of her acolyte's robes. Purple robes to denote her interest in and dedication to the esoteric arts. Occasionally, blue eyes which were so pale to be mistaken for white at times peered out from beneath her hood, dark circles ringed her eyes that were perpetually fatigued from too much reading and too little sleep.

At length the two young women were done with their primping, and the three set off with their bannermen through the multi-cultural throng that had arrived before them and located Queen Aiman's pavilion in the heart of the Nanda camp. Helia had been instructed by the High Queen Thalia to send her regrets to the Nand, and her glad tidings to Ambrose, for a dark haired daughter had indeed been born to the Queen of Maldarr shortly after her arrival back home in Avonlea after the Grand Tournament in Primus. What she was not instructed to mention, however, was that the Queen was once again great with child, snickering courtisans whispered that this child would have blue eyes and blue hair, as the Ambassador Reza had become a favorite of the Queen much to the irritation of her harem.

The Queen's own Herald announced their delegation with a flourish, his high tenor sounding in the clear voice of a great horn throughout the encampment.

"It is my honour to present the delegation from The Queendom of Avonlea, Lady Helia Whitstone, Lady Enyrre Blackswan, and the Priestess Acolyte Chere Nightshield."

[Aedilred]

Spoiler

Show

The Ambrose Ascendancy



The Ambrose delegation had set up their tents amidst those of the Nand, their domain designated by colorful region banners that waved and snapped in the wind around the camp's perimeter. The deep crimson of Ambrose, the golden orange of Calendula, the soft purple of Wysteria, the bright green of Trifylli, the simurgh feather blue of Akovito, the moss green of Çangalamin, the pure silver of Paschalia, and the sunshine yellow of Amaranth, the most newly incorporated region, all flew their colors proudly on tall stakes sunk into the soft dirt of Andanand.

It had been some time since Derris had seen his son and heir, Archon Baram Asker, though he wrote home often of his adventurous exploits in Sasanand. Baram was 19 now, and a man grown, though he seemed content enough to continue his education with the Nanda, Derris knew the time would soon come for his son to take a wife and produce heirs of his own. He pushed thoughts of potential diplomatic matches aside for now, noting the matter would further need contemplating soon.

Belinda and Maldarr had each stayed behind with their young children, Derris had been accompanied by his father-in-law Aleksy Drivas, His Polemarchos from Clan Rosso, Arsen Rosso, and Arsen's wife, Derris's daughter, Alessa Rosso. Derris had eschewed his usual jacket in light of the heat, already in spring, Andanand was warmer than Ambrose was in the foothills of the Highbacks. Arsen was likewise chest-bare, Aleksy electing to cover his aged round bulk with a light breezy tunic of white linen. Alessa, never one to dress less than formally, was dressed well in a splendid flowy silk gown in the blue of her husband's banner, embroidered with gold thread that shimmered in the midday sun.

The small delegation made their way to the Nanda Queen's tent where they waited to be introduced by a herald, as Derris had learned the Nanda preferred formalities.

"Presenting Protos Archigos Derris Asker of Ambrose, Polemarchos Arsen Rosso, the Archessa Alessa Rosso, and esteemed guest Aleksy Drivas." Aleksy smiled a wicked grin around his cigarette. That he held no formal title was a smokescreen, he had his finger on many a heavyweight pulse.

Aiman was clearly unprepared for receiving any guests, but on hearing that the Ambrosans were present, insisted they be shown in straight away. The interior of the tent was in something of a state, the queen herself standing naked as servants and slaves held up various garments for her to wear during the parade and performed last-minute adjustments as necessary. Kusal, who was already garbed appropriately for the triumph, sat in a corner, looking on indulgently. Fortunately the weather was good and so the roof of the tent had been pulled back to allow in sunlight, with with the sumptuous interor decorations gave it the impression of an atrium, rather than a temporary structure.

"Derris!" she exclaimed and stepped forward to give him a hug, all formalities apparently lifted as she saw her friend. "Is Belinda not with you? What a shame! And the Rossos, how do you do? Delighted to meet you both." She turned finally to Aleksy. "Ah, the famous Aleksy, about whom I have heard so much. A pleasure to see you in the flesh at last; it's been quite an achievement on your part that our paths have not crossed before, I think."

Kusal got to his feet and, somehow at the same time as nodding politely to the newcomers, gave a quiet, polite cough, at which she turned, and then said "oh!" and grabbed a garment from one of the nearby slaves, who had been urgently proferring it for a moment or so, and hastily threw it over herself. "So sorry, it totally slipped my mind that you were from foreign lands and might be bothered." She seemed almost entirely unembarrassed.

"That reminds me, Derris, I am glad you are here, since you simply must ride alongside me during the parade. It was with help from you that we achieved these victories, after all, and the people could do with getting used to the idea of you as my equal."

Spoiler

Show

The two emissaries from Avonlea had sailed the lengthy journey into the lands of Nand on board The Nightingale. As it's namesake darted through the skies, the small ship sailed speedily around the northern tip of their continent, and on to their destination with little trouble. The two official ambassadors, and members of the Queen's Ladies-in-Waiting, Helia Whitstone and Enyrre Blackswan were accompanied by an Acolyte of the Mother, Chere Nightshield from Evemoor and a contingent of High Queen Thalia's Queensguard and their squires, two of which held aloft the burgundy banner of Avonlea as they marched into the city.

An empty place for their delegation was found in the fields beyond the Nanda's own, and the guards and squires set to work erecting the large cloth pavilions that would be their home while they were here for the Triumph. Helia and Enyrre both chose to take the time to wash the travel grime off of their face and bodies before dressing to be presented to the Nand Queen. Helia left her pale blonde hair loose and flowing over her shoulders, the sides held out of her face by two matching jeweled hairpins, the same aqua-green as her eyes, her clean strapless gown a paler, dusky green. Enyrre wore her hair plaited in a long golden braid that hung down her back, a white lace ribbon that matched her dress had been threaded through the braid and was tied in a bow at the end of it.

The Acolyte Chere busied herself while the other two women were performing their ablutions by spurts of writing in a worn looking book with a threadbare cover interspersed with much muttering and bouts of staring off into space. Chere's platinum hair was long and wild, a braid held either side away from her face which was mostly hidden by the large hood of her acolyte's robes. Purple robes to denote her interest in and dedication to the esoteric arts. Occasionally, blue eyes which were so pale to be mistaken for white at times peered out from beneath her hood, dark circles ringed her eyes that were perpetually fatigued from too much reading and too little sleep.

At length the two young women were done with their primping, and the three set off with their bannermen through the multi-cultural throng that had arrived before them and located Queen Aiman's pavilion in the heart of the Nanda camp. Helia had been instructed by the High Queen Thalia to send her regrets to the Nand, and her glad tidings to Ambrose, for a dark haired daughter had indeed been born to the Queen of Maldarr shortly after her arrival back home in Avonlea after the Grand Tournament in Primus. What she was not instructed to mention, however, was that the Queen was once again great with child, snickering courtisans whispered that this child would have blue eyes and blue hair, as the Ambassador Reza had become a favorite of the Queen much to the irritation of her harem.

The Queen's own Herald announced their delegation with a flourish, his high tenor sounding in the clear voice of a great horn throughout the encampment.

"It is my honour to present the delegation from The Queendom of Avonlea, Lady Helia Whitstone, Lady Enyrre Blackswan, and the Priestess Acolyte Chere Nightshield."

The queen's tent was abustle with slaves and servants, as well as not a few officers and adjutants, rushing hither and thither, in and out of the tent, carrying messages both to and from the inhabitants, and returning from errands with pails of water, boxes of unspecified contents, or other such paraphernalia. As the Avonleans arrived outside the tent, there was a sudden outburst of people, including a man they might have recognised as the prince regent, who stopped briefly to give them a polite nod. As soon as they were known, they were shown inside, where the queen was, this time, at least seated and (for a Nend) respectably enough dressed, despite the people rushing about around her.

"We are honoured to receive you," she said, with a nod, as they introduced themselves. "We are so pleased that Avonlea can be present to witness our triumph in the spirit of friendship."

[PepperP.]

Spoiler

Show

Aiman was clearly unprepared for receiving any guests, but on hearing that the Ambrosans were present, insisted they be shown in straight away. The interior of the tent was in something of a state, the queen herself standing naked as servants and slaves held up various garments for her to wear during the parade and performed last-minute adjustments as necessary. Kusal, who was already garbed appropriately for the triumph, sat in a corner, looking on indulgently. Fortunately the weather was good and so the roof of the tent had been pulled back to allow in sunlight, with with the sumptuous interor decorations gave it the impression of an atrium, rather than a temporary structure.

"Derris!" she exclaimed and stepped forward to give him a hug, all formalities apparently lifted as she saw her friend. "Is Belinda not with you? What a shame! And the Rossos, how do you do? Delighted to meet you both." She turned finally to Aleksy. "Ah, the famous Aleksy, about whom I have heard so much. A pleasure to see you in the flesh at last; it's been quite an achievement on your part that our paths have not crossed before, I think."

Kusal got to his feet and, somehow at the same time as nodding politely to the newcomers, gave a quiet, polite cough, at which she turned, and then said "oh!" and grabbed a garment from one of the nearby slaves, who had been urgently proferring it for a moment or so, and hastily threw it over herself. "So sorry, it totally slipped my mind that you were from foreign lands and might be bothered." She seemed almost entirely unembarrassed.

"That reminds me, Derris, I am glad you are here, since you simply must ride alongside me during the parade. It was with help from you that we achieved these victories, after all, and the people could do with getting used to the idea of you as my equal."

Derris followed their escort into the bright tent and though he had become accustomed to the Nanda's lack of modesty, could not keep an amused grin from his face as the nude queen embraced him. He lingered in her arms for no longer than was seemly and tried not to stare at his friend's lovely indigo skin, his usual propriety surprised out of him.

"It is lovely to see you, Aiman." He paused for a moment to wonder at his choice of words,

"Belinda sends her regrets, Colson has been ill with a fever and she would not leave him, though our healers maintain that it is not serious." Derris grinned ruefully at the frets of mothers.

"Aiman do you remember my daughter? She might have been a young maid last time you met." He gestured to Alessa who's blue-lidded eyes had been cast to the ground, her cheeks pink at being confronted by the nude monarch. At her father's words, Alessa looked up at the queen, who was by now covered, by the Nand's standards anyway,

"It is an honor Queen Aiman, to be in the presence of my host and father's great ally." Alessa curtsied gracefully, the bell sleeves of her formal blue gown brushing the ground as she bowed. She took her husband's arm who's dark eyes had been staring at Aiman intently, as though he was still seeing through her garment what had been previously displayed.

"Arsen and I were wed last Autumn in Akovito." Alessa smiled up at her great beast of a man tremulously, still a bit frightened of the fierce, brooding man it had been her duty to marry. Arsen stood a head taller than Derris, and was broader in the chest and shoulders, which was bare and covered in wide blue tattoos that looked like the enormous scratch marks of a wild beast. His dark beard was braided and tied with blue string in two places, his hair was pulled back taught from his temples and tied in a ponytail, the end falling to just above hie waist in the back. Arsen's eyes slid over to his wife's and he grunted noncommittally, Alessa gave him a look and nodded discretely towards the Queen.

"An honor, my Queen." He said at length and bowed respectfully, the formalities of court did not come to him naturally, but he was ambitious, and determined to strike for a higher clan position now that the Collins had been tossed into disarray by the death of their Polemarchos, Gabor. Alessa beamed and patted his arm where she held it, they had been practicing at manners.

Aleksy had stayed near the door, comfortable lurking in the shadows, but upon Aiman's words approached the Nand Queen. Taking her hand in his, he removed his ever-present cigarette with his other hand and kissed Aiman's hand as he bowed to her.

"We would have met sooner had Derris told me of your beauty, my Lady." He replaced the cigarette between his yellowed teeth and grinned,

"Tell me, is my Grandson in attendance? I should like us to watch the parade together." He rested his hands on the bulk of his stomach, the smoke from his cigarette curling up and over his balding head.

"Baram wrote ahead and said he would be here, Aleksy." Derris reminded him,

"I should be most honored to ride in the parade with you, Aiman. I am afraid I am not dressed suitably however." He had not changed since his arrival and was dressed only in simple leather breeches, that were soft and worn from use, and leather boots.

[Arcanitect]

The delegation from Nevarr arrived by sea, in two of the newly-built Nevarri naval ships. These sleek, shallow-bottomed, oar- and sail-driven vessels were, unlike the old Nevarri river-boats, more than up to the task of crossing the Inner Sea and reaching distant Sasanand, stopping in Blarhiminn along the way to pick up a small Prevazan delegation.

Upon receiving the invitation from Nand, the Council had quickly agreed that sending all of their members was foolhardy and impractical, but the exact membership of the delegation had become a contentious issue. Over the weeks while the expedition was being prepared, the Ensi and lesser nobles had spent a great deal of time jockeying to go on the delegation to Nand, to have their rivals not go, to have their rivals go allowing them free rein at home… Annan found the long voyage to Nand positively relaxing by comparison.

Ensi Ayarum of Selag’s key role in constructing the new fleet secured her position on the delegation, and the remainder of the council eventually agreed on two representatives – qa-Ensi Meskidu, speaking for the Ensi of Kemish and representing the “old guard” of the Nine Cities of Nevarr, and qa-Ensi Nefere, speaking for the newly-raised Ensi of Sands and representing the loose coalition of new Ensi added with the recent expansion of the League. They were accompanied by a small assortment of lesser nobles and high-ranking civil servants, their own clerks and aides, and the soldiers who would crew the ships and serve as guards when they arrived.

After arriving in Avali, the ships were pulled up on the beach to serve as the basis of the Nevarri camp. While the crew began setting up tents around them, the Lugal and councilors left to seek out their hosts. In deference to Nand custom, Annan had instructed his clerk to perform the initial introductions:

“Presenting Annan, Lugal of Nevarr,” – a tall, bald man wearing the golden torc of the Lugal – “Ayarum, Ensi of Selag,” – a tough, alert-looking older woman with long grey hair tied back under her robes – “Meskidu, qa-Ensi of Kemish,” – a middle-aged man who often seems lost in thought, and who wears more jewels and fine fabrics than anyone else in the delegation – “and Nefere, qa-Ensi of Sands” – a younger woman whose lighter skin and slim features mark her as one of Nevarr’s desert people.

[Mary_Sue]

The queen's tent was abustle with slaves and servants, as well as not a few officers and adjutants, rushing hither and thither, in and out of the tent, carrying messages both to and from the inhabitants, and returning from errands with pails of water, boxes of unspecified contents, or other such paraphernalia. As the Avonleans arrived outside the tent, there was a sudden outburst of people, including a man they might have recognised as the prince regent, who stopped briefly to give them a polite nod. As soon as they were known, they were shown inside, where the queen was, this time, at least seated and (for a Nend) respectably enough dressed, despite the people rushing about around her.

"We are honoured to receive you," she said, with a nod, as they introduced themselves. "We are so pleased that Avonlea can be present to witness our triumph in the spirit of friendship."

"It is an honour to be present for the celebration of your great victory, M'Lady, and wish upon you ever more victories." Helia and Enyrre curtsied prettily, Enyrre offering the Queen a wineskin as Helia continued speaking.

"This is Mistwater Wine, a post potent vintage from our vineyards in Evemoor. We must warn you however, those who are most in touch with their spiritual selves are said to have visions whilst under it's spell. If you are not so inclined, you will find it merely sweet and fruity. Personally, I have never experienced these ill effects, other than a headache the next day." A mischievous grin flicked across her small, pink lips,

"Lastly we have for you this gift made by our finest craftsmen in Bellarion." She gestured to Chere who had stuck her nose back in her book, the preoccupied woman was started from her studies and hurried to conceal the book in a fold of her robes, and brought out a small carved wooden box from a different fold and stepped forward with it, opening the lid for Aiman's inspection. Nestled inside the fragrant cedar box, was a fine silver chain with a pendant that hung from the end of it fashioned as a sun and set with yellow and orange gems that flickered in the sunlight that streamed down at them from the large opening in the top of the Queen's tent.

"Along with these gifts and her regard, High Queen Thalia sends her regrets that she could not make it, having pressing, personal matters to attend to." Helia said discreetly, wondering just how much of their court goings on Reza relayed to his Queen. It was quite possible Aiman already knew of Thalia's pregnancy and the whispers of her court.

[Gengy]

The Spring Court

Though not precisely an official delegation, the Salvax of Tir Xungla had found the sport at the Primus Grand Tournament some years ago rather amusing; this time, they arrive with enough translators and participants for any games that there might be, and relish the idea that some may in fact be risky to their own lives. They are led by Bas Pride of the South Hunt, and watched over by Warchod Prejudice. With them as chief translator is the Spring Court Aeldir, Owena, looking quite a bit wilder than normal as she has changed from her usual purple rose-like clothing into jungle leave-like clothing, and walks with a staff that has a glowing crystal atop it... when she walks at all. Usually, she is found astride either the Bas or the Warchod, as are many of the Spring Aeldir whom serve as translators for the otherwise misunderstood Salvax.

Each Salvax seems to be proudly wearing a floral collar, made of golden vine-like string and purple rose leaves, marking them to the astute as members of the Spring Court; or at least wearing the colors of Lady Spring. Most curiously, however, is the inclusion of three members of the Boar Tribe from the Land of Golden Boars, also known to some as Gullinbursti or Tir Or-Torc. They seem oddly out of place among the Salvax and Spring Court Aeldir, but do appear to be free to do as they please. They seem to be led by a rather large human, whose large muscles are covered in hair; only his chest is shaven, proudly displaying the boar tattoo that shows him as a member of the Boar Tribe. Compared to the other two with him whom appear to be moving cautiously among the growing crowd, the large man is sullen but watchful, as though he still does not trust his surroundings but would be more prone to charging at danger than away from it. Each of the three of them have a ring of purple dye around their arms, so perfectly matching the Violet Roses of the Spring Court in color that they had to have been created by mashing the flower up for creating the dye.

The large man, Bas Pride, Warchod Prejudice, and Owena make their presence known first to their host, approaching the Nanda reception courteously. The white tiger bows, though whether it is to the host or to allow Owena to step off of him is hard to say. The spotted Elephant very obviously bows, lowering herself to one knee, and the tribesman watches from behind; though he does lower his head in the presence of the Nand leader. Owena walks forward and says politely, "Gracious hosts, may I present the Salvax, from Tir Xungla: Bas Pride of the South Hunt and Warchod Prejudice of the South Nest. I am Owena, of the Spring Court, as I'm sure you can see, and it's my honor to act as their translator! Oh, and before I forget, here as well is our newly met companion from Tir Or-Torc, Bansuko of the Boar Tribe, here to observe and play nice with the rest of us. Lady Spring sends her regrets that she cannot come herself, but..."

Owena leans in, as though revealing some great secret, and whispers in a loud enough voice for anyone near by to hear, "...she's tracking down what caused Glaw Novo to suddenly become so unsettled as to put a halt to the final formation of the full Rose Court as one. I'm all excited about it, and hope she succeeds; else she may be charged as an Oathbreaker, which could end poorly. Oh! And Lady Kellianth wanted me to congratulate you on your victory. She explicitly instructed me to ask if Nanda, Ambrose, or Krozna might be interested in hosting a Spring Court girl, to learn about your cultures?"

Spoiler: Unofficial Delegation

Show

The Salvax and the Boar Tribe are here, but it's not a mechanically official visit. The Spring Court, however, would not pass up on the chance to enter into the games being held here; even if there is no glory involved, Spring Aeldir rather like having fun. Notable members of the delegation include (but are not limited to):

Bas Pride of the South Hunt (roughly equal in rank to a 'duke', within Tir Xungla) - White Tiger Salvax - Male
Warchod Prejudice of the South Nest (tactical adviser and body guard to Bas Pride) - Elephant Salvax - Female
Translator Owena, of the Spring Court - Spring Aeldir - Female
Zeal of the South Hunt - White Tiger Salvax - Female
Vehemence of the South Hunt - Elephant Salvax - Male
Translator Cathair, of the Spring Court - Spring Aeldir - Male
Tolerance of the South Nest - Elephant Salvax - Female
Shrewd of the South Nest - White Tiger Salvax - Male
Translator Finola, of the Spring Court - Spring Aeldir - Female
Bansuko of the Boar Tribe - Human - Male (Unwed)
Huroka of the Boar Tribe - Human - Female - (Married to Gorchaka)
Gorchaka of the Boar Tribe - Human - Male - (Married to Huroka)

The Cavaclade of Heroes: Participated by all Salvax, in a mock battle between South Hunt and South Nest, that seems almost like mix between a kata, a well practiced war dance, and a play. Shrewd of the South Nest is given the part of leader, and is, through the dance, able to display cunning and bravery.
Jousting: Participated by Translator Cathair atop Vehemence of the South Hunt. Cathair apparently is only there so that there is a rider; Vehemence holds the lance in his trunk, balanced upon one of his tusks, which he has allowed to be wrapped with padded cloth to reduce mishaps.
Racing: Participated by Bas Pride of the South Hunt.
Pole-Sitting: Participated by Translator Finola of the Spring Court, as it looks like lots of fun!
Swimming the Scarlet Sea: Participated by Tolerance of the South Nest, who is translated as saying that she looks forward to swimming in such a large lake.

[Kasanip]

Chesuka, Choko, Alysha, Washington
The delegation from Luska is as usual to be a small and calm style. For Chesuka to have a chance to come is something like a holiday, however it is an official visit, too. For once, the Aeldir matron to be overseeing Chesuka's training has stayed in Luska while she takes this trip. How this was managed is probably the style of a raccoon dog clan member's secret.

In this way, the mood of the young woman is smiling brightly as cheerfully she is accompanied by her friend, the best undine of Luska, Alysha, and always of course is Choko the raccoon dog and Alysha's companion Washington the otter. As always Alysha's hair is tied in a long braid while Chesuka wears the attush robe but no headband. Her long hair is worn freely, however of course she has the tattoos of her clan on her cheeks. Carrying a gift of sunset wine from Luska's internationally famous trade, together she approaches in sandals to greet the Queen of Nand.

"Harmony between Dusk and Dawn!" Chesuka greeted politely with a curtsey.
"From Luska, we are pleased to send our congratulations and our warm feelings with this small gift for our neighbors on the Misty Sea." Chesuka continued, to politely offer the sunset wine to the nearest servant to bring to the Queen.
"Your festival is very beautiful!" She remarked with a raccoon dog expression.

[Aedilred]

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"Aiman do you remember my daughter? She might have been a young maid last time you met." He gestured to Alessa who's blue-lidded eyes had been cast to the ground, her cheeks pink at being confronted by the nude monarch. At her father's words, Alessa looked up at the queen, who was by now covered, by the Nand's standards anyway,

"It is an honor Queen Aiman, to be in the presence of my host and father's great ally." Alessa curtsied gracefully, the bell sleeves of her formal blue gown brushing the ground as she bowed. She took her husband's arm who's dark eyes had been staring at Aiman intently, as though he was still seeing through her garment what had been previously displayed.

"Arsen and I were wed last Autumn in Akovito." Alessa smiled up at her great beast of a man tremulously, still a bit frightened of the fierce, brooding man it had been her duty to marry. Arsen stood a head taller than Derris, and was broader in the chest and shoulders, which was bare and covered in wide blue tattoos that looked like the enormous scratch marks of a wild beast. His dark beard was braided and tied with blue string in two places, his hair was pulled back taught from his temples and tied in a ponytail, the end falling to just above hie waist in the back. Arsen's eyes slid over to his wife's and he grunted noncommittally, Alessa gave him a look and nodded discretely towards the Queen.

"An honor, my Queen." He said at length and bowed respectfully, the formalities of court did not come to him naturally, but he was ambitious, and determined to strike for a higher clan position now that the Collins had been tossed into disarray by the death of their Polemarchos, Gabor. Alessa beamed and patted his arm where she held it, they had been practicing at manners.

Aleksy had stayed near the door, comfortable lurking in the shadows, but upon Aiman's words approached the Nand Queen. Taking her hand in his, he removed his ever-present cigarette with his other hand and kissed Aiman's hand as he bowed to her.

"We would have met sooner had Derris told me of your beauty, my Lady." He replaced the cigarette between his yellowed teeth and grinned,

"Tell me, is my Grandson in attendance? I should like us to watch the parade together." He rested his hands on the bulk of his stomach, the smoke from his cigarette curling up and over his balding head.

"Baram wrote ahead and said he would be here, Aleksy." Derris reminded him,

"I should be most honored to ride in the parade with you, Aiman. I am afraid I am not dressed suitably however." He had not changed since his arrival and was dressed only in simple leather breeches, that were soft and worn from use, and leather boots.

Aiman started as she was (re-)introduced to Alessa. "Of course! I didn't recognise you, you have grown so since last I saw you."

She glanced around the tent and eventually addressed an adolescent young woman slouching in the corner. "Go and find Baram, would you?"

"What am I, a courier now?" the girl said, in a slightly sullen voice, but nevertheless left the tent.

"I'm sure we can find something appropriate for you, Derris, even if it is ultimately a bit unconventional." She looked around at her attendants, standing by nervously, and waved her hands. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go and find something for the Protos to wear! And someone get our guests some refreshments while you're at it!"

---

A few minutes later, the girl returned, accompanied by Baram, dressed in the armour of an Ambrosan officer, and a young man of about sixteen with pink-purple skin, also clad in parade garb, though this time for a junior Nanda cavalry officer. She rolled her eyes at the queen and returned to her seat, as Aiman turned to see the newcomers.

"Ah, Baram, your family are here, as you can see. And-" she gestured to Baram's companion- "this is my son, Isfandir."

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The delegation from Nevarr arrived by sea, in two of the newly-built Nevarri naval ships. These sleek, shallow-bottomed, oar- and sail-driven vessels were, unlike the old Nevarri river-boats, more than up to the task of crossing the Inner Sea and reaching distant Sasanand, stopping in Blarhiminn along the way to pick up a small Prevazan delegation.

Upon receiving the invitation from Nand, the Council had quickly agreed that sending all of their members was foolhardy and impractical, but the exact membership of the delegation had become a contentious issue. Over the weeks while the expedition was being prepared, the Ensi and lesser nobles had spent a great deal of time jockeying to go on the delegation to Nand, to have their rivals not go, to have their rivals go allowing them free rein at home… Annan found the long voyage to Nand positively relaxing by comparison.

Ensi Ayarum of Selag’s key role in constructing the new fleet secured her position on the delegation, and the remainder of the council eventually agreed on two representatives – qa-Ensi Meskidu, speaking for the Ensi of Kemish and representing the “old guard” of the Nine Cities of Nevarr, and qa-Ensi Nefere, speaking for the newly-raised Ensi of Sands and representing the loose coalition of new Ensi added with the recent expansion of the League. They were accompanied by a small assortment of lesser nobles and high-ranking civil servants, their own clerks and aides, and the soldiers who would crew the ships and serve as guards when they arrived.

After arriving in Avali, the ships were pulled up on the beach to serve as the basis of the Nevarri camp. While the crew began setting up tents around them, the Lugal and councilors left to seek out their hosts. In deference to Nand custom, Annan had instructed his clerk to perform the initial introductions:

“Presenting Annan, Lugal of Nevarr,” – a tall, bald man wearing the golden torc of the Lugal – “Ayarum, Ensi of Selag,” – a tough, alert-looking older woman with long grey hair tied back under her robes – “Meskidu, qa-Ensi of Kemish,” – a middle-aged man who often seems lost in thought, and who wears more jewels and fine fabrics than anyone else in the delegation – “and Nefere, qa-Ensi of Sands” – a younger woman whose lighter skin and slim features mark her as one of Nevarr’s desert people.

"Ah, welcome!" Aiman favoured the Nevarri group with a polite bow of the head and a formal greeting, but Kusal got up from his seat next to them and approached with hand outstretched. "So pleased to meet you in person at last. I hope your journey was not too long or difficult?"

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"It is an honour to be present for the celebration of your great victory, M'Lady, and wish upon you ever more victories." Helia and Enyrre curtsied prettily, Enyrre offering the Queen a wineskin as Helia continued speaking.

"This is Mistwater Wine, a post potent vintage from our vineyards in Evemoor. We must warn you however, those who are most in touch with their spiritual selves are said to have visions whilst under it's spell. If you are not so inclined, you will find it merely sweet and fruity. Personally, I have never experienced these ill effects, other than a headache the next day." A mischievous grin flicked across her small, pink lips,

"Lastly we have for you this gift made by our finest craftsmen in Bellarion." She gestured to Chere who had stuck her nose back in her book, the preoccupied woman was started from her studies and hurried to conceal the book in a fold of her robes, and brought out a small carved wooden box from a different fold and stepped forward with it, opening the lid for Aiman's inspection. Nestled inside the fragrant cedar box, was a fine silver chain with a pendant that hung from the end of it fashioned as a sun and set with yellow and orange gems that flickered in the sunlight that streamed down at them from the large opening in the top of the Queen's tent.

"Along with these gifts and her regard, High Queen Thalia sends her regrets that she could not make it, having pressing, personal matters to attend to." Helia said discreetly, wondering just how much of their court goings on Reza relayed to his Queen. It was quite possible Aiman already knew of Thalia's pregnancy and the whispers of her court.

"You are most kind," Aiman said. "I would invite you to share some of the wine before the parade begins, but after your description it might be best if I wait until afterwards. Not that I have ever considered myself particularly in tune with spirituality, but it's probably better not to take the risk.

"I am sorry your mistress could not be present, and I hope everything resolves itself to her satisfaction," she said smoothly, giving nothing away about her knowledge of Thalia's private life or otherwise.

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Chesuka, Choko, Alysha, Washington
The delegation from Luska is as usual to be a small and calm style. For Chesuka to have a chance to come is something like a holiday, however it is an official visit, too. For once, the Aeldir matron to be overseeing Chesuka's training has stayed in Luska while she takes this trip. How this was managed is probably the style of a raccoon dog clan member's secret.

In this way, the mood of the young woman is smiling brightly as cheerfully she is accompanied by her friend, the best undine of Luska, Alysha, and always of course is Choko the raccoon dog and Alysha's companion Washington the otter. As always Alysha's hair is tied in a long braid while Chesuka wears the attush robe but no headband. Her long hair is worn freely, however of course she has the tattoos of her clan on her cheeks. Carrying a gift of sunset wine from Luska's internationally famous trade, together she approaches in sandals to greet the Queen of Nand.

"Harmony between Dusk and Dawn!" Chesuka greeted politely with a curtsey.
"From Luska, we are pleased to send our congratulations and our warm feelings with this small gift for our neighbors on the Misty Sea." Chesuka continued, to politely offer the sunset wine to the nearest servant to bring to the Queen.
"Your festival is very beautiful!" She remarked with a raccoon dog expression.

"Harmony between Dusk and Dawn," Aiman replied, with a smile. She had a curious affection for the Luskans, and had been glad to hear they had been restored to their rightful home. When she had learned of Kusal's dealings with the Aeldir she had initially been furious, but he had talked her round in time, and she had to admit that, though there was much about it she did not like in principle, she could see the practical sense in such a treaty. Perhaps it was the name they gave themselves as much as anything; the bogeyman "Twilight Men", ancient foes of her people, and who Nanda children grew up to fear, could not have been further from the people who now claimed that title. She had asked people to look discreetly into the history of the Luskans, but it seemed that it was entirely coincidental, as they had arrived in the islands long after the Nanda had on the continent.

"I am glad you find our triumph so, and thank you very much for your kind gift," she said. "I hope the parade lives up to expectations."

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The Spring Court

Though not precisely an official delegation, the Salvax of Tir Xungla had found the sport at the Primus Grand Tournament some years ago rather amusing; this time, they arrive with enough translators and participants for any games that there might be, and relish the idea that some may in fact be risky to their own lives. They are led by Bas Pride of the South Hunt, and watched over by Warchod Prejudice. With them as chief translator is the Spring Court Aeldir, Owena, looking quite a bit wilder than normal as she has changed from her usual purple rose-like clothing into jungle leave-like clothing, and walks with a staff that has a glowing crystal atop it... when she walks at all. Usually, she is found astride either the Bas or the Warchod, as are many of the Spring Aeldir whom serve as translators for the otherwise misunderstood Salvax.

Each Salvax seems to be proudly wearing a floral collar, made of golden vine-like string and purple rose leaves, marking them to the astute as members of the Spring Court; or at least wearing the colors of Lady Spring. Most curiously, however, is the inclusion of three members of the Boar Tribe from the Land of Golden Boars, also known to some as Gullinbursti or Tir Or-Torc. They seem oddly out of place among the Salvax and Spring Court Aeldir, but do appear to be free to do as they please. They seem to be led by a rather large human, whose large muscles are covered in hair; only his chest is shaven, proudly displaying the boar tattoo that shows him as a member of the Boar Tribe. Compared to the other two with him whom appear to be moving cautiously among the growing crowd, the large man is sullen but watchful, as though he still does not trust his surroundings but would be more prone to charging at danger than away from it. Each of the three of them have a ring of purple dye around their arms, so perfectly matching the Violet Roses of the Spring Court in color that they had to have been created by mashing the flower up for creating the dye.

The large man, Bas Pride, Warchod Prejudice, and Owena make their presence known first to their host, approaching the Nanda reception courteously. The white tiger bows, though whether it is to the host or to allow Owena to step off of him is hard to say. The spotted Elephant very obviously bows, lowering herself to one knee, and the tribesman watches from behind; though he does lower his head in the presence of the Nand leader. Owena walks forward and says politely, "Gracious hosts, may I present the Salvax, from Tir Xungla: Bas Pride of the South Hunt and Warchod Prejudice of the South Nest. I am Owena, of the Spring Court, as I'm sure you can see, and it's my honor to act as their translator! Oh, and before I forget, here as well is our newly met companion from Tir Or-Torc, Bansuko of the Boar Tribe, here to observe and play nice with the rest of us. Lady Spring sends her regrets that she cannot come herself, but..."

Owena leans in, as though revealing some great secret, and whispers in a loud enough voice for anyone near by to hear, "...she's tracking down what caused Glaw Novo to suddenly become so unsettled as to put a halt to the final formation of the full Rose Court as one. I'm all excited about it, and hope she succeeds; else she may be charged as an Oathbreaker, which could end poorly. Oh! And Lady Kellianth wanted me to congratulate you on your victory. She explicitly instructed me to ask if Nanda, Ambrose, or Krozna might be interested in hosting a Spring Court girl, to learn about your cultures?"

Spoiler: Unofficial Delegation

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The Salvax and the Boar Tribe are here, but it's not a mechanically official visit. The Spring Court, however, would not pass up on the chance to enter into the games being held here; even if there is no glory involved, Spring Aeldir rather like having fun. Notable members of the delegation include (but are not limited to):

Bas Pride of the South Hunt (roughly equal in rank to a 'duke', within Tir Xungla) - White Tiger Salvax - Male
Warchod Prejudice of the South Nest (tactical adviser and body guard to Bas Pride) - Elephant Salvax - Female
Translator Owena, of the Spring Court - Spring Aeldir - Female
Zeal of the South Hunt - White Tiger Salvax - Female
Vehemence of the South Hunt - Elephant Salvax - Male
Translator Cathair, of the Spring Court - Spring Aeldir - Male
Tolerance of the South Nest - Elephant Salvax - Female
Shrewd of the South Nest - White Tiger Salvax - Male
Translator Finola, of the Spring Court - Spring Aeldir - Female
Bansuko of the Boar Tribe - Human - Male (Unwed)
Huroka of the Boar Tribe - Human - Female - (Married to Gorchaka)
Gorchaka of the Boar Tribe - Human - Male - (Married to Huroka)

The Cavaclade of Heroes: Participated by all Salvax, in a mock battle between South Hunt and South Nest, that seems almost like mix between a kata, a well practiced war dance, and a play. Shrewd of the South Nest is given the part of leader, and is, through the dance, able to display cunning and bravery.
Jousting: Participated by Translator Cathair atop Vehemence of the South Hunt. Cathair apparently is only there so that there is a rider; Vehemence holds the lance in his trunk, balanced upon one of his tusks, which he has allowed to be wrapped with padded cloth to reduce mishaps.
Racing: Participated by Bas Pride of the South Hunt.
Pole-Sitting: Participated by Translator Finola of the Spring Court, as it looks like lots of fun!
Swimming the Scarlet Sea: Participated by Tolerance of the South Nest, who is translated as saying that she looks forward to swimming in such a large lake.

Aiman watched with amused tolerance as the Spring Court's animals performed their semblance of a bow. They certainly had trained the creatures well, although her children were not so long out of true childhood that she yet felt wistful about their younger years, remembering all too well the difficulties of raising three young ones.

Able to view the Spring Court a little more dispassionately rather than being bowled over by their purported childish charm, she wasn't sure what to make of them, and this sense had only deepened with the time she had spent with the colonists on Aranand. They were clearly not children, in any case, and from what she understood they maintained a kind of perpetual childhood - but she wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't all just an act, albeit one that must require a great deal of effort. At times they were almost infantile, at others able to display a perfectly adult perspicacity and insight. And here they were introducing their pets to a foreign queen, and stage-whispering matters of state intrigue.

"I'm sorry to hear of the unrest in Glaw Novo that has stopped Lady Spring from attending," she said with no particular conviction. That was another thing that she couldn't quite put her finger on: if the whole court was run according to the whims of children, it was hardly a surprise that their government was in anarchy. The murder of the Hess Tannan diplomat due to the hysterics of the Spring Girls was still fresh in her mind after all these years. But if they were adults in children's bodies, then it was rather harder to forgive them for their aggressive persecution of the Luskans and the Gesh, and the cheerfully innocent explanations they had proffered for what as far as she could tell was naked opportunism.

She had talked about this at length with Kusal, and wasn't sure how many of her current thoughts were in fact his, but they both agreed that the Spring Court were the strangest - and perhaps the most dangerous - of the four. The aristocratic disdain of the Winter Aeldir; the taciturn hostility of Summer; the coldly reserved politeness of Autumn; these they understood, and could deal with. The Spring Court, though... their true nature as yet remained a mystery.

Even now she watched as the dignitary moved from offering congratulations to requesting a favour and the insertion of a spy into her court without pausing for breath. She smiled, letting as little of her true emotion show as possible. I'll be as good as you at this someday, Cynel.

"Thank you for your kind words, and we do hope you enjoy the parade and the more formal festivities later. Unfortunately, I regret that we are unable to host a ward in our court at this time."

She had to resist the temptation to look at Kusal to see what he thought of her performance.

[RandoMan]

Drustan Keiv, Lord Summer of the Rose Courts, had arrived in the lands of Nanda accompanied by a six Thryngar Rangers who would serve as guests for the festivities while the rest of the Aeldir who had crewed the longship stayed behind. Also joining Lord Summer in this excursion was Octasage Yidel Menheim, a Tillwell Geshem who had proven loyal to the Aeldir and been granted his titles and power along the northern border of the Tillwell and southern Dragon Spine. Blurring the regional boundaries between the Geshem lands was a common practice of the Summer Court to try and dilute regional loyalty. The practice had been met with mixed success but Menheim was one of the most appreciated by Drustan. The Gesh recognized the folly of fighting the Rangers led by Lord Summer and had enjoyed much improvement from his former position as a Trisage under Rosenbaum owing to his willingness to bend to Court rule.

Drustan was dressed well, a fine set of quasi-ceremonial half plate forged from Spine steel and Courtland Blood Roses. The red petals of the Blood Roses were arranged to look like roses forged into the very metal of the breastplate. A red chain shirt was visible beneath the chest piece and the grieves. He wore green and brown clothing a mix of leather and simple dyed cotton pulled from Cape Silvia. The Thyrngar were dressed less boldly, simple leather and chain armor in green brown and the silvery sheen of polished steel. Yidel was the only one among the dignitaries not dressed in some form of armor. He wore an elaborately dyed and bright flowing shirt tucked into flare legged pants and a fanciful hat all colored in red, green, and yellow to reflect his loyalty to the Summer Court.

Menheim smiled readily at the other guests while Drustan merely scowled and the Thyrngar remained tightly knit with hoods pulled up to hide their faces. Drustan knew the Spring Court had sent representatives and suspected the Autumn Court had already arrived or would soon and so the idea of going to speak with the hosts seemed redundant. Perhaps the Nanda might appreciate it if they had been stuck dealing with the Salvax. Such powerful creatures, the intelligence of a man and the strength of the wild and yet the Spring Court treated them like toys when they were weapons. Drustain respected Kellianth's skill in investigation, trading, and the beguiling of their foes but the Spring Aeldir did not possess the minds necessary for a battlefield and the waste of the Salvax made this even more apparent. Perhaps if this Rose Contract could ever be completed without some old rivalry rising he might have the chance to trade administration of the Geshem for the Salvax. He appreciated the Geshem for what they were, resilient and bright folk who held extremely valuable and fertile land necessary for any great growth of the Rangers but they were not any more proficient as warriors than Aeldir of Autumn. Capable but nothing to compare to the Raven Knights or Thyrngar Rangers.

It was in the midst of this thought as Drustan watched the displays put on in contest the Nanda called 'jousting' that something truly extraordinary caught the Summer Aeldir's eye. It was a human woman. Skin of sun touched snow, hair of golden flax, and the green-blue eyes of the sea Drustan had come to know so well in his campaigns from Tir Amser down into Cape Silvia and beyond. His teeth met at the back of his jaw and his whole body tensed. Were this fifty years ago his next course of action would be simple but this was a new age.

"Go and find out her name and her kingdom," he instructed without preamble to Turien, the head of this contingent of Thyrngar.

A near imperceptible nod from the nearest Ranger but before Turien could make his way over to the woman the bright voice of Menheim interrupted.

"Perhaps I should go instead, Your Grace? The humans find my people nonthreatening whereas my Lord Ranger here might stir unpleasant memories of the Masquerade."

Turien had been the Ranger to order the execution of the Tannanite during the Masquerade. Drustan hadn't even considered the idea but he supposed perhaps sending the Ranger might be less than wise and he could only imagine the complaints he would have to endure from Cynel.

"Very well Master Gesh, go."

With an elaborate bow the Gesh was off, walking towards the human woman and her companions. Drustan saw only out of his peripherals, so fixed was his gaze upon this foreign beauty from the realm of man.

Mary_Sue

A small Gesh, dressed in puffed and flowing clothing dyed brightly in red, green, and yellow approached Helia Whitstone and her companions now wandering the Triumph grounds. A smile beamed across his face as he caught their attention and he inclined his head politely.

"Most fair maidens, might I interrupt your pleasant day to bring questions from the realm of the Rose Demesne?"


Rolls

OOC: I'll try to get descriptions of the events up in my next post this one feels like it's getting a bit long.

[Mary_Sue]

"You are most kind," Aiman said. "I would invite you to share some of the wine before the parade begins, but after your description it might be best if I wait until afterwards. Not that I have ever considered myself particularly in tune with spirituality, but it's probably better not to take the risk.

"I am sorry your mistress could not be present, and I hope everything resolves itself to her satisfaction," she said smoothly, giving nothing away about her knowledge of Thalia's private life or otherwise.

"We would be most honoured to share a drink with you after the parade if it please you, M'Lady." Helia bowed to the beautiful azure Queen, her eyes darting to the other brightly coloured people in the large tent. She could not help wondering if an offspring created with a Nend would result in a prettily hued child. Of course, her question would be answered if Thalia's new babe was born with blue hair as the gossip mongering courtiers suspected.

"Thank you, I will pass along your well-wishes. High Queen Thalia's circumstance will no doubt resolve itself in short time satisfactorily, Mother be kind. It is not anything to be of worry." Helia tried to skirt the topic best she could. Doubtless the birth and the rumours surrounding it would be known in time by all, she thought with some pity directed towards the absent Maldarr. It was painfully obvious to anyone that Maldarr cared for her Queen, but Thalia was dutiful to the whims of the Prophetess Council, to a fault.

"M'Lady, if I could request that the Ambrosans that are present come to drink with us after the parade as well, I would be most grateful. I have a happy message to pass on to them from Queen Thalia." Helia thought she might be too bold in her request, not herself being royalty, but the Nand Queen had treated with them amicably enough for her to chance it.

[WaylanderX]

They had traveled together with the Nevarri delegation, spending a great amount of time at sea. The people from the Prevazan Artistry were not really used to that. On top of that, this socalled "Triumph" they were attending was deep within Genocider lands. Nevertheless, common courtesy demanded a visit, together with their Nevarri ..... friends. They were with three: Fanga, the leader of the Valkyrja, Lez, first Trademan of Aneth and Bryluen, head mistress of the Korfstrem. Bryluen, clothed from head to the tip of her tail in linnen cloth, sat upon a wooden chair with wheel underneath, allowing a servant to ride her around. She hoped that that way, people from other nation wouldn't be so rude about her heritage. However, for the time being, she stayed on the ship until the gifts were handed over to the Nand. The last Prevaz who touched their soil, even to pass on a message, got shot and eaten in the most savage way possible after all.

As such, Lez and Fanga (both human) seeked out their hosts. He muttered about the troubles of the Artistry, about Nevarri unwillingness and rampant Fidd fanatisism. When they approached their hosts, all his unnecisary emotions vanished though, making place for calculating profesionalism. There were respects to be paid and issues to be discussed. Is short, time for bussiness.

Lez bowed deeply before their hosts. Fanga followed his example. A servant introduced them.
"Lez, of the Trade Counsil of Aneth and Fanga, of Blarhimmin."

[PepperP.]

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Aiman started as she was (re-)introduced to Alessa. "Of course! I didn't recognise you, you have grown so since last I saw you."

She glanced around the tent and eventually addressed an adolescent young woman slouching in the corner. "Go and find Baram, would you?"

"What am I, a courier now?" the girl said, in a slightly sullen voice, but nevertheless left the tent.

"I'm sure we can find something appropriate for you, Derris, even if it is ultimately a bit unconventional." She looked around at her attendants, standing by nervously, and waved her hands. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go and find something for the Protos to wear! And someone get our guests some refreshments while you're at it!"

---

A few minutes later, the girl returned, accompanied by Baram, dressed in the armour of an Ambrosan officer, and a young man of about sixteen with pink-purple skin, also clad in parade garb, though this time for a junior Nanda cavalry officer. She rolled her eyes at the queen and returned to her seat, as Aiman turned to see the newcomers.

"Ah, Baram, your family are here, as you can see. And-" she gestured to Baram's companion- "this is my son, Isfandir."

Alessa smiled modestly at the Queen's words, pleased to not look a girl and to suit the role of a Polemarchos's wife.

"I was but a girl the last we met, it is a pleasure to see you again, Queen Aiman." truly, she had been rather old to still be unwed at nineteen, but she had been a frightened maid, and her mother not willing to push her until her father stepped in and insisted on the match between herself and Arsen.

"Baram!" Derris clasped hands with his son upon his arrival, proud of the young man Baram had grown into while in Sasanand. He had much of his mother's look to him, including her blue eyes, but he had Derris's own perpetually tousled hair.

"Isfandir, you have grown as well." He addressed the Prince cordially before turning back to Baram,

"The armor suits you, will you be riding in the parade with us? Your Grandfather was hoping to watch with you, I think." He took an offered beverage from a servant as they made the pass amongst the guests.

"I will be yes, Grandfather, we can watch some of the events together later, I promise." Baram grinned, bemused at seeing his enigmatic Grandfather outside of Ambrose, he rarely traveled, preferring to stay in the seat of his power.

"I would not deny you your glory, son. Ride in the parade and we will watch the events later, as you say." Aleksy was gracious around his cigarette as he acquiesced to spend time with Baram later.

"Come, let Father get ready for the parade." Alessa urged Arsen and Aleksy out of the tent as the attendants rushed to and fro with garments for her father to try on. Aleksy glanced back once at his grandson who was laughing at some joke with Isfandir.

Spoiler: Archon Baram Asker

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[Mary_Sue]

[

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B]Mary_Sue[/B]

A small Gesh, dressed in puffed and flowing clothing dyed brightly in red, green, and yellow approached Helia Whitstone and her companions now wandering the Triumph grounds. A smile beamed across his face as he caught their attention and he inclined his head politely.

"Most fair maidens, might I interrupt your pleasant day to bring questions from the realm of the Rose Demesne?"


Rolls

OOC: I'll try to get descriptions of the events up in my next post this one feels like it's getting a bit long.

Helia had seen the small Gesh man approach and she was assaulted by ambivalence, her Queen had generously offered to house the Gesh refugees, under certain conditions of course, an offer which had been ignored, and the rebels instead had claimed lands out from under the Storm Lords whom Thalia had wished to ally with.

It was with some surprise and relief then that the small, colorfully dressed gentleman addressed himself as representing the Rose Demesne.

"Of course you may Ser, and with pleasure." Helia's clear voice held the welcoming warmth of a smile as Enyrre looked curiously upon the Gesh. Chere had stopped peering at her book to stare at the small man with her peculiarly intense blue-white eyes.

[TheDarkDM]

A single black-hulled longship accompanied those of the Summer and Spring Aeldir to the coast beyond Avali, bringing with it a cloud of squawking ravens wheeling through a wispy fog bank. From the camp surrounding the city very little could be seen beyond dull helms and the imagined glint of black eyes beneath, until three figures descended the gangplank, followed by as many attendants and, inexplicably, a human woman. Leading them was a figure unseen by any eye outside Tir Amser, though his identity was almost instinctively apparent. Balor Morrig stood seven feet tall, swathed in Rose Silk garments of deepest black, feet wrapped in high boots of black leather, a cape of raven feathers flapping behind him in the coastal breeze. His shoulder length white hair was held only by a broad silver diadem bearing the symbol of his court, so dark with age that the glint of the silver was the only thing to differentiate it from iron. Below this symbol of office sat a narrow face of high cheek bones and straight nose, black eyes glittering with predatory alertness, thin lips quirked in an aristocratic frown. On his left walked the Orm, no long hidden behind a gown but instead in clothing of similarly military mien to her lord, bearing a diadem around her own head. This one seemed truly composed of iron, though thinly wrought in the twining shape of a serpent's body, save for the pair of silver serpent's heads that met above her forehead. Her long hair was twined through artfully concealed slits in the circlet, eventually coming together in an intricate plait down her back. On Lord Winter's right stood a winter aeldir near as tall as his lord, clothed in an identical fashion save the fact his garments were a snowy white. His face, slightly broader than his lord's, seemed somehow crueler, and he too wore a circlet, plain iron studded at even intervals with leering skulls. The Dullahan, Lugh Anann.

As they proceeded up the beach towards land proper and the waiting camp, Lord Winter's eye roved over the assembled tents.

<"So these are the ones with whom we have pledged a peace. It would seem they are at least capable of conceiving a fete without requiring weeks of arduous travel. Orm?">

<"Yes, Lord?">

<"Seek out the people of Avonlea who so impressed you. I would speak with their queen, or if necessary her representative.">

<"As you will.">

<"And me, Lord?">

The Dullahan leaned in to share a glance with Lord Winter.

<"You shall accompany me to this Nanda queen, that we might exchange pleasantries. I do not anticipate it, but it would be refreshing to encounter proper civility beyond the shores of Tir Amser.">

<"Of course, Lord.">

The aeldir fell silent, long enough that the woman following behind recognized her opening. Clad in a navy blue gown of clearly aeldir make, she was nevertheless clearly of Ambrose stock, though seemingly one deprived of sunlight for some time. Tawny skin had faded to cream, and formerly deep brown hair had lightened to auburn. Only her eyes remained the same, the deep velvet that any would remember as those of Talisha Collins. Exile. Outcast. Ambassador. Still beautiful, yet clearly changed by her new home in the Winter Courtlands. Coughing lightly, she spoke to the advancing wall of black and white.

<"What do you wish of me, Lord?">

Balor Morrig stopped a moment, turning to regard the young woman with something akin to affection in his midnight eyes. His distaste for the outside world was legend among the Aeldir, true, but this woman had come to them. Learned their language, their customs. She was even, he was told, making an effort to understand their gods. Something to do with her family's history as priests of the Ambrose, he supposed. She was not Aeldir, but one did not need to be Aeldir to rise to a position of worth.

<"Your time is your own, Talisha Collins, until it comes time to return. Visit your kin, if you wish, or enjoy the revels of the mainland you have so long dreamed of. I leave it to you.">

She nodded, trembling slightly at the thought of facing others from Ambrose again, and said no more. Eventually, the group reached the site of their fellow aeldir's camps, and abandoned their aides to erect three black, peak-roofed tents. The Orm, Danu Llaeth, proceeded towards the Avonlean camp, and another unexpected encounter with Helia Whitstone. Ambassador Collins reluctantly made her way to the Ambrose camp. And meanwhile, Lord Winter and his Dullahan proceeded to the tent of Queen Aiman, where the Dullahan paused to give the guards an exceedingly courtly bow.

"Lord Balor Morrig, Lord Winter of the Aeldir, wishes to pay his respects to Queen Aiman of Nand."

[RandoMan]

Helia had seen the small Gesh man approach and she was assaulted by ambivalence, her Queen had generously offered to house the Gesh refugees, under certain conditions of course, an offer which had been ignored, and the rebels instead had claimed lands out from under the Storm Lords whom Thalia had wished to ally with.

It was with some surprise and relief then that the small, colorfully dressed gentleman addressed himself as representing the Rose Demesne.

"Of course you may Ser, and with pleasure." Helia's clear voice held the welcoming warmth of a smile as Enyrre looked curiously upon the Gesh. Chere had stopped peering at her book to stare at the small man with her peculiarly intense blue-white eyes.

"Allow me to make myself manifest dear madames, Octasage Yidel Menheim of the southern Dragon Spine Mountains and the Blacksoil Valley!" the short man bowed ostentatiously and doffed his hat revealing the thinning hair atop his head that met the longer locks that fell about his shoulders.

"I report as representative and dependent of the royal and refined Lord Summer of the Rose Courts. His Grace is inclined to inquire about your land, label, and alias," the Gesh looked squarely at Helia, "I believe His Grace finds your appearance appealing and pursuing such pulchritude demands due discourse. Hence why I am here."

[Mary_Sue]

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"Allow me to make myself manifest dear madames, Octasage Yidel Menheim of the southern Dragon Spine Mountains and the Blacksoil Valley!" the short man bowed ostentatiously and doffed his hat revealing the thinning hair atop his head that met the longer locks that fell about his shoulders.

"I report as representative and dependent of the royal and refined Lord Summer of the Rose Courts. His Grace is inclined to inquire about your land, label, and alias," the Gesh looked squarely at Helia, "I believe His Grace finds your appearance appealing and pursuing such pulchritude demands due discourse. Hence why I am here."

"An honour Ser, to acquaint myself with one so esteemed as yourself. I am sadly no highborn, only Helia Whitstone, handmaiden to the High Queen of Avonlea, Thalia Darkthorne. I am here acting as emissary in her stead, dear Octasage. If your Lord wills it, I would consent to meet with him at his leisure." Helia was in fact eager to be able to bring home to Avonlea descriptions of the two Aeldir courts that remained unknown to the Queen.

[RandoMan]

"An honour Ser, to acquaint myself with one so esteemed as yourself. I am sadly no highborn, only Helia Whitstone, handmaiden to the High Queen of Avonlea, Thalia Darkthorne. I am here acting as emissary in her stead, dear Octasage. If your Lord wills it, I would consent to meet with him at his leisure." Helia was in fact eager to be able to bring home to Avonlea descriptions of the two Aeldir courts that remained unknown to the Queen.

"I shall inform His Grace at once. Do mind I believe he desires to speak only with yourself. If your companions are in need of conversational partners however I should be happy to oblige them," the short man said with a wink, "I shall go and inform my lordship of your availability and shall return to escort you to his person shortly."

With that the Gesh was off, but not without another elaborate bow leaving the Avonlean delegation free for a few moments before his return. If they watched they might have seen the small man make his way back to the cluster of Summer Rangers to converse with Lord Summer, prompting the warrior lord to nod and make his return to the shared Rose Court encampment. The Gesh returned and with an extension of his hand to Helia invited her to accompany him to Lord Summer's private tent.

---

"Do be careful Helia Whitstone," he whispered as they neared the tent and he drew back the flap of Rose Silk ushering the Avonlean inside.

Within the tent Drustan was sitting upon a great couch stuffed plump with soft stuffing and stitched in a rustic but quality leather. The floor was covered in simply designed rugs and burning candles alongside the opening near the pinnacle of the roof gave the interior a warm orange glow. Drustan himself had removed his armor, dressed in a leather jerkin that exposed his fit arms and a short cotton kilt that was held in place by a plate belt of Blood Rose petals. His dark brown hair was worn long and loose atop his head and short and trimmed at the apex of his chin. A thousand tiny scars ran across the skin of his arms and neck, almost unnoticeable except by the shadows and flicks of light. At the center of the Aeldir's face though burned the passionate green eyes of the Summer Court, otherworldy and overflowing with knowledge and judgment of the Avonelan handmaiden.

The Summer lord did not rise, but instead relaxed further on the couch raising his arms to rest along the top of its back, the motion flexing his muscles as he did. A smile, almost imperceptible like that of a predator that had cornered its prey drifted across his face.

"Helia Whitstone, handmaiden of the High Queen," his voice was gruff and the Aeldir accent was strong in his voice, a voice that practiced the trade tongue without subsuming to it, "Come and sit."

There was little option, save the floor, that left Helia free to to sit where she would be within the wingspan of the Summer Aeldir.

[Mary_Sue]

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"I shall inform His Grace at once. Do mind I believe he desires to speak only with yourself. If your companions are in need of conversational partners however I should be happy to oblige them," the short man said with a wink, "I shall go and inform my lordship of your availability and shall return to escort you to his person shortly."

With that the Gesh was off, but not without another elaborate bow leaving the Avonlean delegation free for a few moments before his return. If they watched they might have seen the small man make his way back to the cluster of Summer Rangers to converse with Lord Summer, prompting the warrior lord to nod and make his return to the shared Rose Court encampment. The Gesh returned and with an extension of his hand to Helia invited her to accompany him to Lord Summer's private tent.

---

"Do be careful Helia Whitstone," he whispered as they neared the tent and he drew back the flap of Rose Silk ushering the Avonlean inside.

Within the tent Drustan was sitting upon a great couch stuffed plump with soft stuffing and stitched in a rustic but quality leather. The floor was covered in simply designed rugs and burning candles alongside the opening near the pinnacle of the roof gave the interior a warm orange glow. Drustan himself had removed his armor, dressed in a leather jerkin that exposed his fit arms and a short cotton kilt that was held in place by a plate belt of Blood Rose petals. His dark brown hair was worn long and loose atop his head and short and trimmed at the apex of his chin. A thousand tiny scars ran across the skin of his arms and neck, almost unnoticeable except by the shadows and flicks of light. At the center of the Aeldir's face though burned the passionate green eyes of the Summer Court, otherworldy and overflowing with knowledge and judgment of the Avonelan handmaiden.

The Summer lord did not rise, but instead relaxed further on the couch raising his arms to rest along the top of its back, the motion flexing his muscles as he did. A smile, almost imperceptible like that of a predator that had cornered its prey drifted across his face.

"Helia Whitstone, handmaiden of the High Queen," his voice was gruff and the Aeldir accent was strong in his voice, a voice that practiced the trade tongue without subsuming to it, "Come and sit."

There was little option, save the floor, that left Helia free to to sit where she would be within the wingspan of the Summer Aeldir.

Helia peered cautiously into the tent of Lord Summer, her eyes needing a short adjustment from the bright sun into the softer glow of candlelight. She cast the crafty Octasage a wary glance at his cryptic words, though curiosity soon took her in it's greedy clutches and she passed through the tent flap with one last look at her Avonlean sisters who had not been invited into the tent. As she neared the Lord of Summer, she perceived the unmistakable look of one so sure in his station and power, it transcended arrogance to an air of superiority she had yet seen unmatched by her fellow mortal humans, him having eons unknown in which to perfect his confidence.

Helia, being a mere young woman, and not notable in house or birthright trembled slightly as she drew nearer, though the tent was quite warm and became more so the closer she came to the Aeldir. His was not the comforting warmth of the hearth as was Autumn, his was the scorching heat of the unbridled forest fire and she approached slowly, fearful that she too would be consumed by his flame. Wresting her eyes from the strong pull of his magnetic green ones, she cast them to the floor and curtsied deeply.

"Yes, M'Lord, I am honoured our small Queendom merits attention from one such as yourself, Ser." Helia hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, and chose to seat herself to Lord Summer's right on the couch and angled her knees towards him, folding up her legs beneath her ephemerous pale green skirts, her hands played at the ribbon at her waist nervously as she brought her clear aquamarine eyes up to meet the Lord's intense stare, her delicate face framed by her golden hair which brushed against her shoulders where it hung free.

[RandoMan]

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Show

Helia peered cautiously into the tent of Lord Summer, her eyes needing a short adjustment from the bright sun into the softer glow of candlelight. She cast the crafty Octasage a wary glance at his cryptic words, though curiosity soon took her in it's greedy clutches and she passed through the tent flap with one last look at her Avonlean sisters who had not been invited into the tent. As she neared the Lord of Summer, she perceived the unmistakable look of one so sure in his station and power, it transcended arrogance to an air of superiority she had yet seen unmatched by her fellow mortal humans, him having eons unknown in which to perfect his confidence.

Helia, being a mere young woman, and not notable in house or birthright trembled slightly as she drew nearer, though the tent was quite warm and became more so the closer she came to the Aeldir. His was not the comforting warmth of the hearth as was Autumn, his was the scorching heat of the unbridled forest fire and she approached slowly, fearful that she too would be consumed by his flame. Wresting her eyes from the strong pull of his magnetic green ones, she cast them to the floor and curtsied deeply.

"Yes, M'Lord, I am honoured our small Queendom merits attention from one such as yourself, Ser." Helia hesitated for a moment, weighing her options, and chose to seat herself to Lord Summer's right on the couch and angled her knees towards him, folding up her legs beneath her ephemerous pale green skirts, her hands played at the ribbon at her waist nervously as she brought her clear aquamarine eyes up to meet the Lord's intense stare, her delicate face framed by her golden hair which brushed against her shoulders where it hung free.

Drustan's lips curved into a bemused smile, "It is not your Queendom that merits my attention," the warrior Aeldir lowered his hand to hover just away from the Avonlean woman's face, all but caressing her cheek if not for the air between their skin, "Such beauty," his voice was a whisper.

"No doubt you are a great asset to your Queen," his voice had returned in volume and its air was now one of a commander purchasing supplies, "How much will it cost to bring you to my Court?"

[PepperP.]

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A single black-hulled longship accompanied those of the Summer and Spring Aeldir to the coast beyond Avali, bringing with it a cloud of squawking ravens wheeling through a wispy fog bank. From the camp surrounding the city very little could be seen beyond dull helms and the imagined glint of black eyes beneath, until three figures descended the gangplank, followed by as many attendants and, inexplicably, a human woman. Leading them was a figure unseen by any eye outside Tir Amser, though his identity was almost instinctively apparent. Balor Morrig stood seven feet tall, swathed in Rose Silk garments of deepest black, feet wrapped in high boots of black leather, a cape of raven feathers flapping behind him in the coastal breeze. His shoulder length white hair was held only by a broad silver diadem bearing the symbol of his court, so dark with age that the glint of the silver was the only thing to differentiate it from iron. Below this symbol of office sat a narrow face of high cheek bones and straight nose, black eyes glittering with predatory alertness, thin lips quirked in an aristocratic frown. On his left walked the Orm, no long hidden behind a gown but instead in clothing of similarly military mien to her lord, bearing a diadem around her own head. This one seemed truly composed of iron, though thinly wrought in the twining shape of a serpent's body, save for the pair of silver serpent's heads that met above her forehead. Her long hair was twined through artfully concealed slits in the circlet, eventually coming together in an intricate plait down her back. On Lord Winter's right stood a winter aeldir near as tall as his lord, clothed in an identical fashion save the fact his garments were a snowy white. His face, slightly broader than his lord's, seemed somehow crueler, and he too wore a circlet, plain iron studded at even intervals with leering skulls. The Dullahan, Lugh Anann.

As they proceeded up the beach towards land proper and the waiting camp, Lord Winter's eye roved over the assembled tents.

<"So these are the ones with whom we have pledged a peace. It would seem they are at least capable of conceiving a fete without requiring weeks of arduous travel. Orm?">

<"Yes, Lord?">

<"Seek out the people of Avonlea who so impressed you. I would speak with their queen, or if necessary her representative.">

<"As you will.">

<"And me, Lord?">

The Dullahan leaned in to share a glance with Lord Winter.

<"You shall accompany me to this Nanda queen, that we might exchange pleasantries. I do not anticipate it, but it would be refreshing to encounter proper civility beyond the shores of Tir Amser.">

<"Of course, Lord.">

The aeldir fell silent, long enough that the woman following behind recognized her opening. Clad in a navy blue gown of clearly aeldir make, she was nevertheless clearly of Ambrose stock, though seemingly one deprived of sunlight for some time. Tawny skin had faded to cream, and formerly deep brown hair had lightened to auburn. Only her eyes remained the same, the deep velvet that any would remember as those of Talisha Collins. Exile. Outcast. Ambassador. Still beautiful, yet clearly changed by her new home in the Winter Courtlands. Coughing lightly, she spoke to the advancing wall of black and white.

<"What do you wish of me, Lord?">

Balor Morrig stopped a moment, turning to regard the young woman with something akin to affection in his midnight eyes. His distaste for the outside world was legend among the Aeldir, true, but this woman had come to them. Learned their language, their customs. She was even, he was told, making an effort to understand their gods. Something to do with her family's history as priests of the Ambrose, he supposed. She was not Aeldir, but one did not need to be Aeldir to rise to a position of worth.

<"Your time is your own, Talisha Collins, until it comes time to return. Visit your kin, if you wish, or enjoy the revels of the mainland you have so long dreamed of. I leave it to you.">

She nodded, trembling slightly at the thought of facing others from Ambrose again, and said no more. Eventually, the group reached the site of their fellow aeldir's camps, and abandoned their aides to erect three black, peak-roofed tents. The Orm, Danu Llaeth, proceeded towards the Avonlean camp, and another unexpected encounter with Helia Whitstone. Ambassador Collins reluctantly made her way to the Ambrose camp. And meanwhile, Lord Winter and his Dullahan proceeded to the tent of Queen Aiman, where the Dullahan paused to give the guards an exceedingly courtly bow.

"Lord Balor Morrig, Lord Winter of the Aeldir, wishes to pay his respects to Queen Aiman of Nand."

Talisha had come upon Derris and Alessa in the main Ambrosan delegation tent relaxing after the parade and proceeding festivities. Arsen and Aleksy had gone off with Baram to watch some of the competitions and cheer for Ambrose. It had been almost two years since they had seen their kinswoman, and there had been no word from her after she departed for Tir Amser though the Captain of the ship that sailed her over assured them that she had reached the shores safely. Derris and Alessa were interrupted in their conversation as the herald announced Talisha Collins. They shared a brief surprised glance before welcoming her into their presence. As she entered, Graylace whined from where she sat curled up at Derris's feet. Derris reached down reflexively to pet the simurgh, but his eyes were on his niece whom he scarcely recognized. Her pallor was faded, as though she was surrounded by eternal dusk. Her eyes held a new intensity that they had never held while in Ambrose. His eyes went to her shoulders and picked up the tattoos that confirmed her as Talisha Collins, noting a new tattoo of a stylized raven among the others. It was Alessa who first stood and embraced her cousin.

"Tali! It's so good to see you!" Alessa hugged her cousin and gave her a squeeze. Derris, recovered from his initial surprise at his niece's appearance, offered her his chair.

"Please sit and share a drink with us." Graylace darted from the offered seat to curl up in a far corner of the tent, though her eyes stayed fixed on the three.

"Would you like some brandy? Perhaps warmed?" The hand he held as he led her over to his seat was chilled.

[Mary_Sue]

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Drustan's lips curved into a bemused smile, "It is not your Queendom that merits my attention," the warrior Aeldir lowered his hand to hover just away from the Avonlean woman's face, all but caressing her cheek if not for the air between their skin, "Such beauty," his voice was a whisper.

"No doubt you are a great asset to your Queen," his voice had returned in volume and its air was now one of a commander purchasing supplies, "How much will it cost to bring you to my Court?"

Helia blushed modestly at the powerful creature's compliment, her eyes going wide in surprise as he assertively began to barter for her as though she was but a sack of tobacco, to sell to the highest bidder. She could sense a great passion in him, though she knew any union with him would lack warmth if not heat. Helia was keenly aware of her slightness compared to Lord Summer, not only in physicality, but also in station, this was not a man to be told no, still her heart quaked at the thought of being plucked from her familiar Queendom and thrust into a realm with people she could never possibly hope to understand.

"I know not, M'Lord. I suppose it depends on how long you would wish to keep me for." A small rueful smile curved her pink bow lips and she tilted her head, studying the Aeldir curiously. Surely he would cast her aside once she grew old and her beauty faded, what would become of her then?

Spoiler

Show

A single black-hulled longship accompanied those of the Summer and Spring Aeldir to the coast beyond Avali, bringing with it a cloud of squawking ravens wheeling through a wispy fog bank. From the camp surrounding the city very little could be seen beyond dull helms and the imagined glint of black eyes beneath, until three figures descended the gangplank, followed by as many attendants and, inexplicably, a human woman. Leading them was a figure unseen by any eye outside Tir Amser, though his identity was almost instinctively apparent. Balor Morrig stood seven feet tall, swathed in Rose Silk garments of deepest black, feet wrapped in high boots of black leather, a cape of raven feathers flapping behind him in the coastal breeze. His shoulder length white hair was held only by a broad silver diadem bearing the symbol of his court, so dark with age that the glint of the silver was the only thing to differentiate it from iron. Below this symbol of office sat a narrow face of high cheek bones and straight nose, black eyes glittering with predatory alertness, thin lips quirked in an aristocratic frown. On his left walked the Orm, no long hidden behind a gown but instead in clothing of similarly military mien to her lord, bearing a diadem around her own head. This one seemed truly composed of iron, though thinly wrought in the twining shape of a serpent's body, save for the pair of silver serpent's heads that met above her forehead. Her long hair was twined through artfully concealed slits in the circlet, eventually coming together in an intricate plait down her back. On Lord Winter's right stood a winter aeldir near as tall as his lord, clothed in an identical fashion save the fact his garments were a snowy white. His face, slightly broader than his lord's, seemed somehow crueler, and he too wore a circlet, plain iron studded at even intervals with leering skulls. The Dullahan, Lugh Anann.

As they proceeded up the beach towards land proper and the waiting camp, Lord Winter's eye roved over the assembled tents.

<"So these are the ones with whom we have pledged a peace. It would seem they are at least capable of conceiving a fete without requiring weeks of arduous travel. Orm?">

<"Yes, Lord?">

<"Seek out the people of Avonlea who so impressed you. I would speak with their queen, or if necessary her representative.">

<"As you will.">

<"And me, Lord?">

The Dullahan leaned in to share a glance with Lord Winter.

<"You shall accompany me to this Nanda queen, that we might exchange pleasantries. I do not anticipate it, but it would be refreshing to encounter proper civility beyond the shores of Tir Amser.">

<"Of course, Lord.">

The aeldir fell silent, long enough that the woman following behind recognized her opening. Clad in a navy blue gown of clearly aeldir make, she was nevertheless clearly of Ambrose stock, though seemingly one deprived of sunlight for some time. Tawny skin had faded to cream, and formerly deep brown hair had lightened to auburn. Only her eyes remained the same, the deep velvet that any would remember as those of Talisha Collins. Exile. Outcast. Ambassador. Still beautiful, yet clearly changed by her new home in the Winter Courtlands. Coughing lightly, she spoke to the advancing wall of black and white.

<"What do you wish of me, Lord?">

Balor Morrig stopped a moment, turning to regard the young woman with something akin to affection in his midnight eyes. His distaste for the outside world was legend among the Aeldir, true, but this woman had come to them. Learned their language, their customs. She was even, he was told, making an effort to understand their gods. Something to do with her family's history as priests of the Ambrose, he supposed. She was not Aeldir, but one did not need to be Aeldir to rise to a position of worth.

<"Your time is your own, Talisha Collins, until it comes time to return. Visit your kin, if you wish, or enjoy the revels of the mainland you have so long dreamed of. I leave it to you.">

She nodded, trembling slightly at the thought of facing others from Ambrose again, and said no more. Eventually, the group reached the site of their fellow aeldir's camps, and abandoned their aides to erect three black, peak-roofed tents. The Orm, Danu Llaeth, proceeded towards the Avonlean camp, and another unexpected encounter with Helia Whitstone. Ambassador Collins reluctantly made her way to the Ambrose camp. And meanwhile, Lord Winter and his Dullahan proceeded to the tent of Queen Aiman, where the Dullahan paused to give the guards an exceedingly courtly bow.

"Lord Balor Morrig, Lord Winter of the Aeldir, wishes to pay his respects to Queen Aiman of Nand."

The Orm had found Enyrre and Chere alone, Chere had studied the woman intensely with her piercing white-blue eyes, sensing the Orm's power thrumming beneath the surface just as she could feel her own, though hers yet remained dormant. It was Enyrre who directed The Orm to the tents of Lord Summer, recounting how the flamboyant Gesh had come upon him, claiming to be a representative of the Rose Demense and Lord Summer himself, and whisked Helia away to meet with the Lord alone.

"And there Helia remains, M'Lady, though we expected her return a fair hour ago." Enyrre curtsied and apologized for the inconvenience.

[Aedilred]

Those watching near the gates would see the start of the procession as it entered the city, but for those further along, the main signal of approach would be the wall of noise that gradually moved through the streets as the crowds cheered and waved at those marching past.

The first marchers carried trumpets and horns which they played as they walked, and were immediately followed by people carrying large pictures, works of art depicting both the battles that had been fought in the last few years and historic victories of the army, as well as portraits of generals and heroes of the war. Then came the standards captured from the enemy, their bright and bold colours surrounded with grey shrouds to signify their defeat.

Although the wars had been against rebelling provinces of the kingdom itself, there was nevertheless a degree of booty, claimed or confiscated from defeated leaders, looted from sites near battlefields or from the dead, or relics liberated from holy sites. These followed in wagons towed by huge reptiles, showing off the lustre and quantity of the booty. Behind them came similar wagons but this time loaded with shields, helms, pieces of bronze plate, and weapons, the arms and armour of the defeated.

Following close on their heels were a motley collection of individuals, not marching so much as herded in the right direction and apparently taken aback by the crowd who had turned out to see them. These were the defeated soldiers and captives of the reclaimed regions, some of them still in some semblance of military order and following what seemed to be officers, and the rear brought up by the nobility. At the very back were a series of wagons, on top of the first of which stood a glowering Nend with purple skin in military attire, held in place by delicate chains and surrounded by pennants of his defeated army, for this was Lord Isber, the former setrapan of Jangai.

On the second was a huge depiction of the self-styled King Terit of Havanand, at least twice lifesize and painted blue as his skin had been, showing his generous belly looming above his equipment, recovered from his body after his defeat. On the third stood a young woman scarcely out of girlhood, not chained as Isber had been but clearly not there by choice, and looking around the scene with a degree of intimidation, but her jaw set as if determined not to show weakness. By her side, holding her hand, stood the young prince, Isfandir, her betrothed, who waved to the crowd more happily.

There was a pause then before the commanders themselves rode in, the Prince Regent Kusal on a great chariot pulled by four thezirins, and behind him five karapa, each with a different skull-helm atop their head: mostly archosaurs, though one seemed to have come from some sort of giant bird, and another had one that would almost have looked human had it not been for the spines protruding from the top. The troops marched behind them, from both Nand and Ambrose, several thousand strong, led by their company musicians and themselves singing songs as they went.

As the procession reached the centre of the city the wagons were drawn aside, so that the spoils could be unladen and taken for safekeeping. The prisoners were drawn off to one side, save for the princess who Isfandir quietly led to join the dignitaries, while Kusal drew up his chariot before the temple of Nandir and dismounted, as his troops drew up behind him in a simulacrum of battle array.

[Aedilred]

Aiman was waiting at the top of the steps of the temple, with a group of priests, and Kusal made his way up to them before turning to face his followers – and the spectators, who by now had all crowded into the square. He raised his sceptre to call for quiet, and gradually something approximating a silence descended.

“For eight years,” he said, “I have worked to governor in Nand in place of her highness the queen. With this triumph, my time as ruler of this kingdom is done, and I return this sceptre, the symbol of authority, to the queen herself, in the hope that she will be pleased with the work I have done and the victories her army has won in her name.”

With that he turned to the queen, knelt and presented her with the sceptre, which she took from his hand, before indicating for him to rise, with a smile. Once the cheers were done she turned back to the crowd.

“I thank my husband, Prince Kusal, for returning to me my kingdom in such good order, and for all that he has done here while I have been abroad. For over a century now since my great-grandfather freed us from the Imperial yoke, Nand has stood proud and free as it did in ancient times, and I am glad that it continues to prosper.

“As queen, my duty is to ensure not just the present prosperity of this kingdom but its future survival, and it is with that that I have been occupied these past years. I am delighted to announce that in Krozna and Ambrose I have found peoples and governments aligned with ours in all important particulars, of like heritage and dignity, loyal friends and allies, and whom many of you will have had cause to thank for providing you with produce for your table or assistance in your own endeavours.

“I am proud to announce that as of this day this kingdom will enter into a union with these great peoples, that we shall stand together against the darkness and spread the light in unison. I welcome the Protos of Ambrose and the Mirzahib of Krozna as my partners in this matter and their peoples as a whole as partners to mine own. Let us venture forward into what the future may bring together as the League of Allied Provinces of Ambrose, Nand and Krozna!"

[Mary_Sue]

Enyrre

Enyrre sat kneeling before a low table in her delegation's dim tent, a small flickering candle illuminated her workspace as her quill filled the emptiness of the page on which she wrote. She thought of what might be the High Queen's response somewhat angrily, her white brow creasing in annoyance, her writing paused for a moment as she stared off into space, fixated on her inner thoughts more than her letter for the moment. Enyrre was young and comely, though eclipsed in beauty by Helia or even the Queen herself. She was not brave like Thalia, who had been reborn in the blood of childbirth and the battlefield. Though to speak true, the battle of Evemoor could not be considered more than a skirmish, but riding into battle with the purpose to kill another person if need be had to change a person. Enyrre reflected as her quill resumed moving along her page, the candlelight sending shadows overs her words and reflecting in her deep blue eyes as she contemplated her possible fates. The Mother had not ordained her for a higher purpose, the Queen seemed destined to reunite her people, Mother keep her, but there was no higher calling waiting for Enyrre in Avonlea, this she knew for true, and without the aid of seer's sight.

Enyrre had accepted the role of emissary for this trip, and gladly, in the hopes of catching the eye of some forrin dignitary perhaps, and maybe even a minor Lord, but her own charms had been all but invisible next to Helia who had garnered all the attention, with her big innocent doe eyes, and her shining golden hair. Enyrre scowled unbecomingly and savagely brushed a lock of pale hair that had become loosened from her braid away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Her quill faltered again as she daydreamed of traveling to Ambrose and finding a strong dark-haired man of her own as the Queen had found Maldarr. Maybe even Maldarr himself! She grinned viciously at the thought, the Queen had no proper claim to the man, especially now. Thalia would have bore her new babe by the time the Avonlean ship would have returned home, and that child was surely not of Maldarr. What would he think of his precious Queen then?

She drooped as some of the heat left her temper, her slim, bare shoulders sagging. No, that was beneath her. Perhaps she would travel deep into the forest of Çangalamin, it was said you could get lost in there, and it was rumoured a whole people once did. Çangalaaaamin She drew out the last "a" making the forrin word sound almost musical to her ears. And there were even lands beyond Ambrose. There was Berrium, of the gallant knights and courtly ladies, wouldn't that be fine? She hummed as she imagined dancing with a handsome knight who had won her favour with a joust. And there were lands even past Berrium, The jade Coalition that was said to be most civilised. A sailor at port had given her a jade comb for her hair once, it was back home but it was green and lovely and carved into the shape of a seashell. Her body tingled with excitement at the thought of the adventures waiting to be had.

Enyrre woke from her daydreams as her candle guttered, she quickly finished her letter and dripped some of the hot wax that had pooled in the base of the candle holder to seal it shut. She placed her letter next to Chere's sleeping form, uneasy eyes flicking over to Helia's empty bed. Helia had failed to return back to their tent, but Chere had not seemed concerned so they had not sought after her. She shrugged and started to gather her necessary things into a small pack, having to cull more than she liked in order to fit in food and water. She stood just outside the entrance to her tent, the warm breezes of Andanand rippling stray hairs across her face as a smile broke across her lips, the field of tents was quiet this evening, the revelers still out celebrating. She began to walk and did not look back, she mused on how she might get to Ambrose, putting one foot in front of the other was as good a start as any.

[RandoMan]

Helia blushed modestly at the powerful creature's compliment, her eyes going wide in surprise as he assertively began to barter for her as though she was but a sack of tobacco, to sell to the highest bidder. She could sense a great passion in him, though she knew any union with him would lack warmth if not heat. Helia was keenly aware of her slightness compared to Lord Summer, not only in physicality, but also in station, this was not a man to be told no, still her heart quaked at the thought of being plucked from her familiar Queendom and thrust into a realm with people she could never possibly hope to understand.

"I know not, M'Lord. I suppose it depends on how long you would wish to keep me for." A small rueful smile curved her pink bow lips and she tilted her head, studying the Aeldir curiously. Surely he would cast her aside once she grew old and her beauty faded, what would become of her then?

"Until I am satisfied," the Summer Lord answered bluntly. Perhaps coming from another it might have been a flirtatious response but from Drustan's tongue it sounded far more dangerous, "You will learn much and may still serve your Queen and when I am finished you may journey to Lord Winter's court as an ambassador. Or return to your Queendom, I do not care. I do not know properly how to express such a time in this rudimentary tongue. You will serve until you do not."

"What will this cost me to your Queen? I have been instructed not to take you without paying whatever price is deemed appropriate. Lady Autumn and Lady Spring are insistent on the matter."