A Calling Of Adunians

[Haribo 385]

"alright!" 

 

puts on kilt with hanrahan brae

[Bangi 104]

Eoin Campbell, knight of Adunia, and chief to the Campbell packs his things and stuffs some green in his pipe for the trip. 

 

"Eh won'er if wee Torrah 'ill come, eh miss dat lass."

[Jachnun 566]

Haskel "the idiot" reads the letter, putting on his kilt making his way to Valles. 

[Eddywilson2 2117]

Jon Othaman looks around at the people gathered so far, smirking lightly at the fact many brought kilts, a tradition long seen. Some looked at him encouragingly while others looked at him with curious expressions but all came because they cared about Adunia and their people.

"Adunians, I, Marquis Jon Othaman, have gathered ya 'ere today ta' talk about da' future of our people. Many representatives of da' ol' clans are 'ere today yet d'ey are not what d'ey once were.

If ya are willing, I'd like fer us ta' come togetha' once more to recreate our society. All Adunians are equal 'ere, and I want ta' hear ya thoughts. Tell me if ya are willing ta' bond together to remake Adunia as it was. I miss da' wilderness and freedom we once knew, da' clans we once dined and fought with, and most of all I miss da' adventure, da' feelin' of happiness, and da' drive ta' live without scorn or neglect. I miss da' cold air of da' highlands on meh' face as we charged inta' battle with our claymores held high, and our pride reaching to da' sky's above.

We got da' land, we got da' people, and if we have da' willpower we can recreate Adunian da' way it was before corruption began. But I need ya help ta' do that. Voice ya thoughts and speak ya minds."

[Bangi 104]

Eoin arrives at the meeting, puffing on his pipe and feeling proud of his kilt. He listens to Jon carefully, with a nod.

 

"Eh believe ye are of eh goo' min' me 'dunian brother, Bu' tell meh, 'ooh gives ye teh roight tah lead? Nah' that oi care, jes' won'erin'. Also, ye be'er nae try tah git me tah wear yer girly clothes, cause I wear me kilt an' I'm DAMN PROUD UV EHT"

[Eddywilson2 2117]

"Wha' be it d'at gives any man da' right to lead? Is it powa', blood, or title d'at makes someone a good leada'? Fer 15 years our people have been missin' da' glory that is rightfully ours! Not one man has stepped up ta' change d'at so now da' task has fallen ta' me.

What gives meh and has always given meh da' right ta' lead is meh heart. Da' belief d'at we can come back, d'at we will not die out, d'at we will take back our glory drives meh since da' day I was just a peasant boy in Abresi.

Ya clan was once great Eoin of Clan Campbell, and I promise yeh d'at da' day will come when it will return to glory. Da' same goes fer all da' clans out dere'. But ta' do so we have ta' find that passion in our hearts"

[iris1612 1780]

Vincent Lucido Marsh chooses this moment to speak up "Ah' fink we shouldnae' 'ave one singular leadah' aneh'more. I's ne'er seemed ta' work. Lachlan was... alroight, and weh' all know wot a failiure Kayrin wos." He spits on the ground, not knowing that Kayrin is in the room."Eneh'ow, ah' fink we should impliment somefin' else, different even then the Thanes, where erreh'bodeh' gits a say. Exept fah' slaves. And non-Adunians. And aneh'bodeh' undah' the age o' twenneh. And wimmen. Per'aps one representative from each clan, in a council?"

[Bangi 104]

Eoin nods.to Jon.

 

"Good enuff fer me, regardless 'o me oat' tah 'lendil, Lachlan died an' we ne'er got our promised lan'.  Campbell use' tah fiel' twen'eh fer thousan' me alone. I woul' loike tah return tah that, t'oh may be impossible aneh longer."

 

He then nods to the Marsh fellow.

 

"Eh du loike teh idear 'o eh representative governmen', 'owever there alreadeh be representatives fer any true 'dunian clan, an' we call 'im tha chief. 'Owever we Campbell is nae su sexis' we du allow teh woman tah be chieftess. T'is our way, an' nu one 'ill change me tradition. 'As stood firm since tha toimes uv Aegis."

[The Best Basileus 97]

The dedicated messenger persevered. Despite dead ends at every turn, he knew his target still lived. Despite the notice of his death, the letter of conciliation sent to his commanding officer for lack of relatives, the man continued his search. Despite the gravestone bearing his name, the empty coffin had given him hope. The man he once knew closely still lived.

 

How could he be hidden for so long from the world? How could there be no trace? This man's devotion was rare indeed. His master was nothing special; it was not for him he labored so. Yet, forty-five years ago, this mere messenger had fought bravely at the Dreadfort under the command of one Caln McHarnish, in his attempt to hold the attention of the Blackmont Coalition in the rear of the fortress, opposite the main assault. Alongside him many others fought, among whom are Olaf the Northerner mercenary, Mark Lander the Elf-friend, Thry Lenexu Greymane the Honorable, and Hadrian Elendil. He had fired arrow after arrow toward the battlements, slaying two. Hadrian had matched him man for man.

 

Eighteen. Hadrian had been only that age when he died. His comrade-in-arms, the messenger, had watched as he was struck down by a heavily-armored cavalryman outside the gates. He had killed that knight, and many more that day, fighting until the bitter end, when, during the last stand of the Teutons, outnumbered, outflanked, and outgunned, he had been one of the few who managed to withdraw without serious injury. And thus it was left for the Blackmonts to fill the graves with the dead, strewn on the field. Any who were missing were given a burial, though their bodies might not have been accounted for. Hadrian was one of these. True, he was more likely than not in fact dead. True, nothing had been heard of Hadrian, or many Elendils, for many a year. Elros Leydon intended to find out once and for all.

 

*     *     *

 

There were many monster hunters in Anthos: many incredibly successful monster hunters, whose quarry was presented to the paying party riddled with slices and chops, bloodied and battered— yet only one report was given of a hunter whose trophies were more frequently than not cleanly killed— an arrow through the eye, a fatal shot to the heart— though rarely the greater kills had clearly been engaged in melee. If Elros truly knew his friend as he thought he did, and if he were alive, this would be him.

 

The enrobed warrior, aloof from politics and the wars of the rest of Anthos's population, however, could very well be any of the hundreds of thousands, yes, millions, of people who inhabited this world. Even if Hadrian were alive, he would have no need to dwell in Anthos: merchants of faraway lands frequently deposit their wares in the ports of Anthos. Hadrian could very well have ventured out with one of these ventures as well. If tavern gossip was to be trusted, which it very rarely is, this man could overcome most men without their knowing whence their death came in his forest realm, though Elrosh knew he could hold his own (for Elros, even in his sixties, was a great warrior from out of mankind, as were all those who survived the siege upon Dreadfort).

 

*     *     *

 

The hunter was watched. He had been hunted before: in his quests to kill the evil things of the night, he had attracted their master's attention. Abominations were not to be scoffed at, especially those designed for stealth. The creature who followed him showed all signs of acting like a man— a well-trained man, seasoned in the arts of subterfuge. Setherien's art would had grown indeed if he could "enhance" his captives to these heights of ability: either he was tracked by men, or he was tracked by very good imitations of men (the latter option being more disconcerting by far). If this were true, perhaps the hunter needed to venture forth into the north for the first time. The north, where for all his knowledge of wood-lore he would be profited nothing.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise, a scent carried on the breeze, a sense of movement, or, perhaps, a premonition. He halted. His head turned.

 

A loaded bow, hefted threateningly, ready to draw at a moment's notice, met his eye. As his reflexes kicked in, sending him behind cover, drawing his blade, a voice broke out in the silence.

 

"Yet again outdone, Hadrian. Admit it— I'm simply better than you."

 

*     *     *

 

The man who arrived at the council would be incredibly different from the Hadrian of forty-five bygone years. He was strong and lean, his face broad and fully-developed, his bone structure showing rigidly. He was a man, fully grown, the picture of the glory of Adunian blood untainted: for he had seen sixty-three summers, at which point any who was less than three fourths Adunian would start to age visibly. Yet Hadrian was not so. His face had only those wrinkles given to it from his not-so often frowning, and slightly more often smirking, though his face was, for the vast majority of the time, impassive.

 

http://i259.photobucket.com/albums/hh316/FireChildSlytherin5/Lord%20of%20the%20Rings/Arathorn-1.jpg

 

He slid into his chair, folding his fur cloak over the back of it. He did not wear a kilt, as he lived in the traditional Adunian manner, and rejected any and all Idunain influence. The silence of the plaid-clad men around him was reciprocated in turn by silence from him.

[Eddywilson2 2117]

Vincent Lucido Marsh chooses this moment to speak up "Ah' fink we shouldnae' 'ave one singular leadah' aneh'more. I's ne'er seemed ta' work. Lachlan was... alroight, and weh' all know wot a failiure Kayrin wos." He spits on the ground, not knowing that Kayrin is in the room."Eneh'ow, ah' fink we should impliment somefin' else, different even then the Thanes, where erreh'bodeh' gits a say. Exept fah' slaves. And non-Adunians. And aneh'bodeh' undah' the age o' twenneh. And wimmen. Per'aps one representative from each clan, in a council?"

"I have though of d'at many a time yet da' truth of it is we would not all beh' equal. I fer example am Marquis of Oren so if I were ta' get in a fight wit' another clan I could exile dem' from da' lands not makin' meh equal. If Rymeul Elendil got in a fight wit' anotha' clan he could find ways ta' have him exiled being a knight of da' Luciens.

Da' only true way to make it so equality could happen without da' political **** would be ta' install a powerful figurehead as da' leader and da' Chieftains actin' as a council. Dis' way outside regulations could be regulated so dat' if someone tries ta' use outside influence in a clan war den dey will be exiled from da' culture."

((This basically means a leader with limited authority and the chieftains in a council. The leader needs the councils consent to do major changes similar to a democracy IRL))

[iris1612 1780]

He then nods to the Marsh fellow.

 

"Eh du loike teh idear 'o eh representative governmen', 'owever there alreadeh be representatives fer any true 'dunian clan, an' we call 'im tha chief. 'Owever we Campbell is nae su sexis' we du allow teh woman tah be chieftess. T'is our way, an' nu one 'ill change me tradition. 'As stood firm since tha toimes uv Aegis."

Vincent Lucido Marsh waves to the new arrival, Hadrian, not knowing who he is,

 

 

before looking back to Eoin. "Ah' suppose that is a good point." Then he mutters "Campbell bastard" under his breath, so that nobody hears him.

 

 

"I have though of d'at many a time yet da' truth of it is we would not all beh' equal. I fer example am Marquis of Oren so if I were ta' get in a fight wit' another clan I could exile dem' from da' lands not makin' meh equal. If Rymeul Elendil got in a fight wit' anotha' clan he could find ways ta' have him exiled being a knight of da' Luciens.

Da' only true way to make it so equality could happen without da' political **** would be ta' install a powerful figurehead as da' leader and da' Chieftains actin' as a council. Dis' way outside regulations could be regulated so dat' if someone tries ta' use outside influence in a clan war den dey will be exiled from da' culture."

 

Vincent doesn't understand most of the long words, so he nods his head in agreement to cover up his ignorance.

[iris1612 1780]

-snipplzremove- 

[Nononymous 306]

An unknown man wanders into the meeting. He does not wear a kilt, but only a white button-down shirt and black trousers. A large brass buckle hangs onto his pants, and his relatively young face seems to shine under his unkempt, blond hair. No one seems to notice him when he first walks in the door, but it's evident he is not Adunian in any way, shape, or form.

 

As he speaks, it becomes further clear that he is not an Adunian; he is an outsider. Whether you choose to trust him, is up to you, but is words sound genuine, and a certain gravity hangs on his every word.

 

"My friends! I speak not on behalf of myself, or for Oren, or for the Dwarves, or for anyone other than you! The Adunians are a proud people, and rightfully so. Any simple man of Oren knows that an Adunian bears the strength of ten knights, and lives twice as old. However, in this case, myself, a simple man, might have the solution for you all gathered here today. You are lively and bold, and certainly passionate. You have all the characteristics of a strong people except population density! In order for a people to thrive, they must actually SEE other people like them, and unfortunately, the Adunians are too far spread and in-between. And so I bring a proposal to you all here today.

 

I am not misleading you, and I am not on a quest for power. I feel that this deal would incorporate the best interests of everyone. I live in the Emerald Isles off the coast of the Cloud Temple shores. On one of those islands I possess a fort, Fort Rin. I am in need of soldiers to fight with me and for me, a noble people whom I can trust and rely on. I won't lie to you, but if you join me, your allegiance will be based with Oren. Within the walls of Rin, you can recreate your people and culture. You will be densely packed and able to reorganize yourselves, to reproduce, to live life to the fullest, and lead a meaningful life! I offer salvation, but I will need your loyalty and trust. I am a stranger to you all, but I seek what's best for both of us: a symbiotic relationship. You fight for me, and I will provide you with a means to stick together, and a faithful leader who will strive for the best. While I am not Adunian in blood, I am in spirit. Thank you for listening."

 

((In other words, without my character's bias in the middle, the issue you guys are facing isn't an inactive playerbase, it's a lack of density. The Adunians are spread too far out and inbetween without much contact with one another. If you guys would all just reside together, you could slowly expand to reach your former glory. My character's speech above is a method in which that provides us all with RP and a means to regrow the Adunian population. But regardless of whether you guys RPly decide to join me, just focus together in one area and make your RP closer together. Advertise your position to the outside world, but don't leave that position; RP there. Also, apologies for any typos, I wrote this fairly quickly.))

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

Quinlan of Campbell soup speaks

"Ye'knu I miss Vaer'aven. Can we all jus' go tae Vaer'aven again?"

[Bangi 104]

Eoin laughs.

 

"Me cousin 'as fair point, I miss me 'all. The un eh built wit' me brothers. 'Owever te foreigners offer is nae one tah be scoffed at either."