MunaZaldrizoti

Ioanna Kortrevich was in the midst of conducting a large crate of empty bottles from the precarious cliffs of Castle Morteskvan to Valdev, spying the announcement of a brewery on one of the city's sparse noticeboards. A sigh escaped her as she pressed on, arriving home to her husband, Leonid. "Hmmm...what to do now, dearest?" The Rhenyari posed the query to the Lord Marshal, and further queries about her own foray into alcohol production. Nonetheless, they would support their cousin's ambitions.

Ioanna Kortrevich took the news with immense worry, considering the aged Queen had become a motherly figure she had truly never had before. With insistent words paid to her husband, the lady would ensure she spent more than enough time with the ailing Amaya in the hope she might soon recover. The Rhenyari dared not imagine an alternative, lest she be lost to premature grief.

D'ARKENT-KORTREVICH RECRUITMENT - SEEKING CHILD PLAYER Information LADY AMAYA CASIMIRA D'ARKENT-KORTREVICH Born: 10th of the Amber Cold, 169 SA | 10th of Msitza ag Dargund, 518 E.S. Lady Amaya Casimira is the secondborn child and only daughter of Sir Leonid d'Arkent-Kortrevich and his wife, Lady Ioanna d'Arkent-Kortrevich. She is also one of a triplet set, with an older and younger brother. Born into a gentry branch of House Kortrevich, she lives a comfortable life thanks to the efforts of her parents, with Leonid serving as Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska and Ioanna acting as a Diplomat of Hanseti-Ruska respectively. She likewise has many cousins in the houses of Kortrevich, d'Arkent, and Weiss with whom she can grow-up alongside and interact with. She will be playable on March 31st, 2024. The parents are played by erictafoya11 (Leonid) and myself, MunaZaldrizoti (Ioanna). The character's siblings will be played by Rusty_Derringer (Viktor Otto) and ___Helios___ (Rickard Adrian). They're of mixed heritage, being Haeseni on their father's side and Rhenyari on their mother's side. They would likely be raised to speak a mixture of Common, New Marian, and Rhenyari. Some additional info about House Kortrevich can be found be found here. Genetics, such as eye and hair color, can be discussed once a player is chosen. I am also more than happy to help pay for a starting skin for the character! Additional information regarding the persona, such as more history behind her father and mother's own background, will be given once a player is chosen. We're very much open to any and all players interested, be it those who commonly play human characters or those who don't but wish to have a good starting point within Haense. Please give us some time after speaking with you, for us to let you know about our decision on who will take up the persona. Feel free to contact us at either erictafoya or munazaldrizotii on Discord if you're interested! We hope to get the character settled and claimed by March 31st!

Milena vas Ruthern had every intention of attending, if not just to show her superior intellect to those of her own age and certainly in spite of her eldest sister playing host. A future Palatine must have a mind for politics, as Analiesa always reminded that serious little youth.

Ioanna Kortrevich looked upon her copy of that treaty with immense pride, glad for her efforts in ensuring the agreement was finally put to parchment. Her first year of diplomacy was proving quite fruitful, it seemed.

The eyes of Milena vas Ruthern were held tightly shut, focused upon nothing but the sound of her own breath. For two days since her encounter with Sir Mikolaj, she had spent hours of her time locked away within the Weeping Tower of Morteskvan, attempting to divine the future as he had instructed. For the youngest grandchild of Duke Viktor, achieving this was imperative to her future success. She held herself to a higher standard, failure was no option even at such a tender age. As a chilly wind whistled through the stone-carved windows lining her bedchamber, she thought of nothing but conjuring forth some sort of image. A sign or portent of things to come. Inhale, Exhale. Inhale, Exhale. Inhale…Exhale. Her nose wrinkled in frustration. Nothing but darkness was beheld behind those closed eyelids. Her fingers curled into fists atop her lap, jaw tensing. Her will would command that vision to reveal itself. Inhale, Exhale. Inhale, Exhale. Inhale… ◆ ◆ ◆ An eruption of images blurred that darkness, breaking that induced silence and filling her mind’s eye. Flashes of red and gold, black and gray A castle shrouded in snow, looming tall against the backdrop of the mountainside. Soldiers, garbed in chainmail and helms, stomped through several courtyards, muddied and battered. A great hall, glowing under the light of torches and sconces lining the walls. Despite that warmth, a chill still persisted. Milena observed from one end of that chamber a man, wounded and kneeling before the great dais ahead. Atop it, a blackened seat wrought from that same rock comprising the foundation of that mighty fortress. Her lips parted, to call out to him, to ask what was going on…but no words broke through that veil. She was beyond him, a witness. A looming figure emerged, a woman whose face was obscured in shadow. She was richly garbed in red and black, proud in her gait as she stepped before that intimidating throne. Slowly she descended, step by step, until she arrived before the kneeling man. He lifted his head…but seemed not to fear her. Milena could not see his face either. Shrrrrrrk! The sound of steel rang out, the fastest movement Milena had seen, as it emerged from within the woman’s sleeve. The squelch of blood made her breath catch in her throat, drops of the man’s ichor falling to the floor like hastened snowflakes. He gurgled and choked…and died there, before his killer. The woman’s bodice was stained now, a reminder of her deed, but she seemed little bothered. The red lady stepped over his corpse…and seemed to look at her audience, that lone viewer intruding within her hall. That hidden blade was lifted…pointed directly at Milena. ◆ ◆ ◆ The youth was jolted back to her reality, as if waking from a nightmare. She gasped for what air she could find, a pale palm splaying against her chest. With the belief this would be some form of mystical experience, it was nothing less than a distant, but potential reality. The image of that slaying was imprinted in her mind. The Oracle would know of this divination. Milena knew it would not be her last.

Milena vas Ruthern sat in her drafty tower, having heard her sister's plans shouted from the halls above. The dreary girl recalled the words of Lady Maristela and bid away her discontent for the idea of yet another festivity, though the thought did make her stomach turn. A look was cast, towards a figure looming just over her shoulder and unseen to all others. "Ea must make friends, da? Ea will partake in this murder!" Her maid excused herself for the rest of the afternoon after hearing that child's declaration.

Lady Ioanna Kortrevich was glad for the busywork amidst these finals month of pregnancy, preparing letters to be sent to those interested merchants and her own contacts across the seas in Ba'as.

Lady Ioanna Kortrevich, seeing an opportunity to further serve her adoptive kingdom, swiftly penned a letter to the Lord Emissary. The Rhenyari was keen on putting her education to better use, after spending so much of the last few saint's weeks toiling with taxes.

Lady Ioanna Kortrevich sends word to the Esrova Prikaz, speaking of her desire to participate in the great hunt once her child was born.

A dreary toddler was prepared for the festivities against her own will, maids seeking out suitable attire for the child at the behest--or orders of her elder sisters. Her pudgy little hands outstretched towards the corner of her nursery as she awaited the next round of costuming, hoping one of the shadowy figures huddled there might rescue her from this plight. Alas, they only continued in their wailing. Useless.

From high above, in the Weeping Tower of Castle Morteskvan, a dreary toddler seemed to see a lull in her tears and wails. For one night, the girl had reprieve from those wayward souls, both friend and foe, who had lost their lives in the time since the siege had begun. "Dravi, Tyr!" The youth would hum, leaving her nursemaid ill-at-ease.

A toddler languishing within the keep of the Duke Ruthern did further wail at yet another vision, seemingly unable to find much rest these last few saint's hours. Woe unto all who also resided there, it seemed the late heiress' final child was truly plagued by great sorrow. And yet, her infantile mind seemed to quicken with intrigue. She slowly found these nightmarish dreams...entertaining.

A MARTIAL UNION The Union of Sir Leonid d’Arkent-Kortrevich & Ioanna of Ba’as 5th of Msitza & Dargund, 516 E.S. In the year 516 E.S of the Sigmundic Calendar, it is with great jubilation that the House Kortrevich announces the betrothal and impending union of: Sir Leonid d’Arkent-Kortrevich & Ioanna of Ba’as The tale of their meeting began upon the battlefield, happening upon one another as they sought to defend the capital city of Valdev from the onslaught of the Raiders of Ailmere. The Lord Marshal took an arrow in the shoulder, shielding the Rhenyari lady from potential harm and saving her life in the process. In her gratitude, she took to attending to his care & recovery, which sparked a natural and warm comradery. Their easy companionship grew into greater affection, resulting in a year-long courtship and the Lord’s eventual proposal. The union shall be celebrated within The Everardian Basilica and shall be officiated by Villorik, Bishop Westerwald, as chosen by the bride in admiration of his diligent holy service. Thereafter, those who wish to join the couple in celebration will be invited to attend the Bards and Bottles Tavern, where merriment among friends will hopefully last long into the evening. All citizens of Valdev are extended an invitation, as well as the greater-peoples of Hanseti-Ruska. Her Ladyship, Irena Stefaniya Kortrevich, Baroness of Koravia His Excellency, Sir Leonid Marco d’Arkent-Kortrevich, Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska, Patron of All Art, Knight of The Order of the Crow, “Orcbani”. “The Poet Marshal”, War Poet Ioanna of Ba’as

Through the blackened night, within her drafty nursery tucked away inside of Castle Morteskvan, a babe no less than two begins to shriek and wail in her uneasy slumber, terrified by some unseen nightmare. Even those raiders encamped just down the mountain would hear the eerie tears of the child, chilling and knowing of things they could not fathom. But truly, she could not comprehend a word of it. Barely having entered childhood, how could she? But she did see...and she did remember. A first vision, to haunt the youth for years to come.

Ioanna of Ba'as, amidst her business with the White Comet Tribunal and words of comfort to Queen Amaya, seemed genuinely surprised as those returning outriders brought the lost King home to Valdev. A quiet prayer was uttered, for the Rhenyari wondered what the monarch's return could mean. Would this be to the kingdom's benefit, or would it only leave the Crown more vulnerable to attack?

Amidst the haze of suspicion and uncertainty that hung over Valdev like a cloak, the diligent steward Ioanna did appreciate this anonymous author's praise of her work within the northern kingdom. The Rhenyari returned to preparing herself to meet with the Queen-consort.

Ioanna read this missive the same as she had the various others, with a motionless visage and lack of enthusiasm. It seemed suddenly this strange continent she now called home was the birthplace of many an author and poet, who leapt at the opportunity to speak on these things which were yet to be investigated and proven by the Church itself. Why do these righteous men not take to the streets, come before the Barbovic throne and dislodge the King and his consort from their seats? Why do they sit idle and mean only to put quill to paper, when such religious fervor burns within them and bids them to take action? Is the pen truly mightier than the sword? A passing patron of the city's tavern peered over her shoulder, remarking upon the signature. "Westmark? Not another damned Veleztian..." It seemed she had been given her answer.

Somewhere off in the lands of Ba'as, an aged princess wonders how her elder sister was faring, ruling their niece's kingdom. Her husband, the Prince Ambros Rostampur, had always been adamant that they not return to Balian for the disrespect paid to his sister, Andromeda, during her tenure as Hadrian's queen & consort. But oh, how she missed her dearest Leni.

Ioanna peered upwards, observing the moon that looked down upon that northern capital through a snowflake-filled sky. What she knew, she could never share, as she had sworn and promised to keep the confidence of both a matriarch and her child. But the Rhenyari pondered upon the intentions of a King who wished to conquer even the heavens above. Was it a sign of unbridled ambition, madness, or both?