Viva Asturias, Viva Imperio [PK]

[Aeus 2653]

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VIVA ASTURIAS

✦  VIVA IMPERIO  ✦
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Spoiler

I would like to thank so many people for giving me the platform to create and roleplay a culture that is very close to my heart and to share and show off my heritage with so many people. Starting with Tide Halt and Werewolf for giving us the opportunity and having faith in our work to create something unique and interesting in its own right. I’d like to thank Trinn, Lena, Jaelon, Spurf, Care and christman for taking interest in our little Caribbean LARP and continuing it past my involvement respectfully and faithfully. And of course the people like psychra_notte and bickando for helping develop the culture. You guys helped me craft such a beautiful form of roleplay that helped heal a bit of hurt from my childhood after having to flee my country. I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for all the help and support throughout these 80 weeks of roleplay. Hopefully it becomes as meaningful to the next generation of players as it was to me.

 

Thank you, and VIVA ASTURIAS

Danny

 

 

 

 

 

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Spoiler

 

 

The Prince of Asturias had not left his chamber in days. Illness had clung to his lungs, draining the strength from his body little by little. In the days before his departure, he was met by his daughters and his grandchildren. Adrian warned them of what was to come. 

 

“It takes a lot of effort to kill evil.” He told them in jest. “I will not be had so easily.”

 

On the morning of his departure, he rose from his bed slowly, with great effort. His breathing was shallow, and every movement carried the pain of an aged and sickly sailor. Still, his determination is what carried him on. 

 

Outside and far from the capital, the sea breeze rolled gently across the harbor. There, waiting at the docks was a small but sturdy vessel prepared by his daughters. Valentina and Joan had stocked it well. There were barrels of rum, bundles of tobacco, crates of fruit, and salted meats, and enough supplies for a peaceful journey.

 

Adrian smiled weakly when he saw it. Standing beside him was his eldest son and heir. Marlon and his father walked towards the boat. The young man having to hold his father in order to board the boat. Adrian was surprised by his son’s strength, or perhaps by his own weakness.

 

On the shore gathered the family of Asturias. Daughters, sons, cousins, servants, and friends. Drums played lively while others danced and drank as the prince had ordered. There was no mourning allowed. No sorrow, only celebration. The Prince turned one last time to look upon them. The celebrations brought joy to the old sailor. 

 

Music filled the harbor as the winds pushed the ship away from the docks. Laughter and dancing carried across the water while the prince and his son drifted slowly toward the horizon. Adrian stood on the back of the ship, raising the Asturian standard one last time.

 

“VIVA ASTURIAS," he yelled. “VIVA IMPERIO."

 

Once the celebrations died down and the families had returned home, two letters arrived.

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A mis queridas hijas, Talia Sofia. Marcela Augusta. Valentina Renata y Joan Mariana.

 

Si están leyendo esta carta, entonces mi viaje ha terminado.

 

He vivido una vida larga, llena de amor, errores, victorias y lecciones. Más de lo que muchos hombres pueden pedir. Pero ahora necesito pedirles algo. Manténganse unidas. El mundo que viene será difícil. El imperio cambiará, las responsabilidades serán grandes, y muchas personas intentarán dividirlas. No lo permitan. Ustedes son la fuerza de esta familia.

 

Joana, tú gobernarás Asturias junto a Marlon. Sé que sabrás guiar a este pueblo con sabiduría y firmeza. Confíen una en la otra.

 

Valentina…  Pronto serás emperatriz. Cada día que te veo me recuerdas más a tu madre. Tu misma fuerza. Tu misma sonrisa. Ella amaba el mar. Incluso el día en que el Langostino se la llevó, nunca dejó de mirar el horizonte con esperanza. Veo esa misma luz en ti. Y por eso sé que estarás bien.

 

Cuídense. Defiéndanse. Porque si algo he aprendido en mi vida, es que la familia es lo único que realmente permanece.

 

Estoy orgulloso de cada una de ustedes. Más de lo que estas palabras pueden expresar.

 

Con todo mi amor,

 

El Príncipe de Asturias

Adrian Marcel d'Asturia

 

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A mis hijos, Marlon Lorens, Anton Gabriel, Renan Inocente, Marcus Tiberias y Johannes Marius.

 

Los hombres suelen pensar que la fuerza viene de la espada o del poder.

 

Se equivocan.

 

La verdadera fuerza está en la palabra de un hombre. Cumplan sus promesas. Sean hombres de honor. El imperio necesitará líderes que no busquen gloria para sí mismos, sino estabilidad para su pueblo.

 

Pero antes de ser gobernantes… sean buenos hombres. Sean buenos con las damas de nuestra familia. Ellas son lo mejor de Asturias. Protégelas. Respétenlas. Escúchenlas. Porque muchas veces verán cosas que nosotros no vemos.

 

Guíen al imperio con justicia. Mantengan su palabra incluso cuando sea difícil. Y nunca olviden que el poder es prestado por el pueblo, igual que al ser regalado por Dios.

 

Si hacen eso, Asturias y el Imperio estarán en buenas manos.

 

Estoy orgulloso de todos ustedes.

 

Incluso de aquellos que aún no lo saben.

 

Con orgullo,

 

El Príncipe de Asturias

Adrian Marcel d'Asturia

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Spoiler

 

 

Far from the Empire, the small vessel drifted gently toward a quiet tropical island. Palm trees swayed slowly in the wind, and the water shimmered under the light of the sun. Marlon helped his father onto the sand.

 

The prince seemed lighter now. He felt as if the journey had washed him free from his sins. There was so much blood on his hands. Haeseni, Balianese, Hyspian. Men and women that fell at the hands of the sailor so that he may bring a better life for his children. So that they could get ahead. These burdens, however now seemed far away.

 

They strung a hammock between two coconut trees. The old prince lay down, watching the waves roll onto the shore.

 

For a while, neither of the two men spoke. Marlon sat by the fire as Adrian rocked in his hammock. 

 

“Father.” Marlon said almost in a hushed tone. “Do you believe in God?”

 

The prince smiled fainly. It took him a long time to answer. He took in the view, the sounds of the sea and the birds up above. He thought of his wife, and his sister, both who had long passed. He thought of what was to come after that night.

 

“I believe,” he said quietly, “that something waits for us.”

 

The winds rustled through the palms. The waves continued their slow rhythm. The prince of Asturias closed his eyes. In his last breaths, he took in the smell of the sea, that familiar scent that had always followed him around.

When morning came, and the sun rose over the island, Marlon rose from his spot on the sand. His father rested peacefully in the hammock. But the gentle rise and fall of his breathing was gone. 

 

[kuerbis 3802]

The breeze blew gently back then, back in Asturias. It was a day sort of like today, with the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the cliffside. Valentiná, back then, merely a young lady, stood in the company of her father. His garments, though still noble, had tasted the salt of the sea. His feather-hat shielded his leathery skin from the sun. He had a spyglass set to one eye, and scrunched up the other.

To Valentiná, he had been a hero, despite all the crimes he‘d committed at sea. She knew none about it back then, believing him to be someone who fought pirates; someone who laughed in the face of danger.

He had been her only parent, for her mother had passed so early, Valentiná could hardly remember the tone of her voice. The Prince of Asturias had been a lonely man, sharing in the melancholy his daughter would feel more and more the older she got.

The Prince walked fast, and Valentiná‘s pink silk skirts made it hard for her to keep up. He was surveying the coastline, and she had been allowed on this rare occasion. "Pai," whined she. "Pai, wait, I cannot keep up."

All her life, it had felt like she couldn't keep up. But back then, and even still later in life, Adrian was there, when she fell, just like when she tripped on that rock that obstructed her way. The expensive fabric of her skirt tore a nasty hole, but worse yet, there had been bleeding wrists and scraped knees.

Tears came, and just when she thought, he would simply keep walking and leave her behind, he scooped her up in his arms and took a look at one injured palm.

"Ooh, Sana, sana, colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana."

"Heal, heal, little frog's tail, if it doesn't heal today, it will heal tomorrow."

Would the broken heart of losing her father ever heal? That was the only question Valentiná had swirling about in her mind as she watched the ship depart over the horizon, silent tears streaming down her cheeks underneath the heavy veil.

[Johann 2498]

Sequestered upon a high tower beneath Aelwenic stars a long-lived Acaelanite elf performed a silent Rosario in her first, and former liege-lord's memory. Lighting candles laden with tropical flowers, she reminisced the distant Isle of Salia.

 

"Gone already, hah.. you've left too soon!" She chuckled, attempting to be facetious.

 

"I never got to truly thank you, for giving this Witness of Availer a place amongst humanity."

 

"Now I can only hope you hear these words from the Skies above."

[psychra_notte 618]

Fernan de Mercado sat quietly upon his ship, somewhere in the sea along a trade route. The news had arrived by bird, and a rock filled in his stomach. That night, he prayed to God that the late Prince rest peacefully in the Seven Skies.

[Mady 3771]

ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ
WITH THE NEWS OF THE ASTURIAN PRINCE’S PASSING REACHING THE PRESTIGIOUS INSTITUTE IN AELDIN, the young Mareno Princess would drape black veils from her windows and over her mirrors. As CAERINE donned her mourning gown and made her way down to the white, sandy shores of Novo Horos. she could not help  but recall the jolly laugh of the dailor, his moustache curling up with each mischievous grin he flashed to his Royal daughter.“Princess Valentina must be devastated. . .” She'd hum to herself as the glimmering reflection of the sun upon the ocean reached her view at last. 

 

With sand finally underfoot, CAERINE would stand vigil for a time, recalling her fond memories of the fallen Asturian as the roaring of the waves settled down into a soft rhythm. In silent reflection, the Mareno would release a parchment boat carrying her final goodbyes scrawls amongst its folds. 
 
“May Myrine guide your journey and the next.”

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[Axelu 4333]

The Prince of Asturias's granddaughter, the young Infanta Leanor de Asturias y Helena, was in her quarters at the Imperial Palace, when the sobriety of her mother amidst the seafaring absences of her father signaled to her, even at such an early age, that something was amiss. She looked then outside her window, which presented an idyllic view of the sea -- that very sea that her paternal ancestors had assumed mastery of, in sharp contrast to the lands which she stood upon, so indubitably the demesne of her mother's Horen brood. She perched herself at the sill, and looked off - ideating upon what adventures her father and grandfather might be on, amidst her ignorance of the latter's grave condition. 

 

A discrete knock resonated against her oaken door, and in came her mother, Joan Mariana, and her aunt, Valentina. The child, ever shrewd and wide-eyed, queried, "Will they come back soon, tia, mama?"

 

The silence that ensued was lost upon the princely daughter, and so she rose from her seat and pranced forward. "Won't they?" 

 

They ushered the girl to the coastal lands, where that Prince was housed in his final days. After seeing him, confined to bed, and bound to sickness, what little comfort she could find came from the sea; as waves churn, and sediments and treasures like are buried beneath their formidable weights, so too was her grandfather's life taken, as quickly as it had gone by. 

 

@trinn@kuerbis

[trinn 5128]

Bold Princess,

The Asturian Prince had called her in her youth, warding beneath his household alongside her twin.  She was ushered there in the days after her mother, the Empress', death; beckoned to Adrian's care alongside the many, many Asturian children.

 

Grief was not something he permitted in sullen quiet in his household. No, grief wasn't silent. Grief was loud, spoken and heard in his house. He took her to the sea. He made her paint, he made her build, he made her indulge in every passion or craft that she could. The Duke would not permit her to wallow in grief, and instead found everything for her to become. Before she knew it, summer had passed quickly. 

 

Now, she witnessed his final sail away, in the cradle of his son's ship. The absence of such a loud man was defeaning. But she would not wallow, not for a man who had taught her to defy the drowning quiet of death. Whatever days would follow, the colours of Asturias would remain bright and abundant, his favoured music played amongst hired bards; and she would ensure his kindness repaid to his daughter, Valentina. 

 

@kuerbis