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  1. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ THE BURNING OF WHITEHALL ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I: THE GLUTTONY IN DARK One hundred minas. Seax. Father’s old gambeson. Scarf. Favorite fur hat, woven by mother. Silent as a fox, the pig-nosed, chubby young lad prepared this bundle of small possessions in the dim light of the slowly dying hearth fire set by mother. Enough was enough, and Milonir of Whitehall could tolerate no more. Tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of little Milonir’s life. He would prove to his father and everyone who laughed at him that he was a real man, and a true warrior. Papa would see, they’d all see. But now was the time rest. Not without second supper, of course. See, it had been a habit of Milonir’s for the last few years to collect a second serving of supper after mother and father had fallen asleep. They certainly knew, on account of young Milonir’s drastic weight gain. Mother, at least, said little about it. Father on the other hand, was not so silent about his disdain for Milonir’s weight, and often made sport of the subject. Vegetable soup again. He had done this a million times; harking the leftovers and cleaning plates when no one was looking. Perhaps it was because it was late, or perhaps he was too comfortable with his habit. Milonir, careless as he was, had managed to knock over the pot of soup. While this alone would be cause for some small concern, the loss of second dinner was not what caused the horrified expression overtaking his visage. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ II: THE FOOL OF FLAME He had not only managed to spill his second dinner, but a number of coals too at the base of father’s clan tapestry. And to punish him for his gluttony, gods beyond his control saw it fit that the tapestry was to be set ablaze before he could act. Milonir could only stare in panicked horror as the tapestry that had been in his father’s clan for generations was devoured by intense, contagious flames. What could he do against such an enraged flame? The blaze would claim not only this prized tapestry, but now soared to the thatching of their home. The thatch house began to cough sparks in all directions like an angry blacksmith pounding away at an anvil. Growing, growing, growing. Completely optionless, despaired Milonir hurried out of the shabby little thatch home as fast as his pubescent legs would take him. It was surprising in this state that he was even able to manage that. A good distance away from the home, Milonir froze in abject, paralyzing horror at the sight before him. Everything he knew, all of his memories, and his very childhood were set ablaze in the inferno. His family raggedly stumbled outside, awoken from the commotion and smoke. Mother and father, covered in ash and coughing, doggedly made for Milonir’s side. Mother, through her infinite love, appeared confused, betrayed, completely heartbroken. Father’s expression told a different story. The bleeding emotions of righteous rage, betrayal, and a satisfying confirmation that he was right gripped his visage. The family blade gripped within his white knuckles told it all. No words were exchanged, yet Milonir squeaked “No, no,” barely mustering the words. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ III: THE COWARD'S WAY OUT Panic overtook him, and Milonir backed away from his kin, like a desperate, cornered animal. Run. All he could do was run. With his bundle of possessions under his armpit, Milonir escaped into the pale, cold moonlight. Not stopping to look back at the product of his foolishness, Milonir noticed a much brighter orange glow out of the corner of his eye. Whitehall burned. His legs carried him as far as they would. Echoes throughout the valley could be heard; panicked voices familiar to Milonir, and the thundering masses of timber that fell in on themselves. They slowly dissipated until all was silent and dark. Run. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Whitehall burns. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ IV: THE ACCIDENT It was an accident. He didn’t mean it. What had he done? It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t mean for this to happen. Young Milonir had proven to Whitehall that their words were right. That Milonir was exactly what they said he was. A useless, fat pile of shit. Reality set in. Milonir stopped only to vomit the vegetable soup he had eaten earlier. Everything he knew and loved was ripped from him that night. He was alone in the dark forest, left with nothing. All he could do was keep running until dawn broke. The bustle of Haense lie before him. A new day. Milonir would make this right. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in a year, or even ten. But he would make it right. He swore it. He swore it a million times. Milonir would right the wrongs of the past.
  2. The Life of Maela Vuiller Arcas, Haense Born to Darien Frostfire and Althea Frostfire --- Maela Frostfire, the one and only daughter of Darien and Althea Frostfire. Her father, a soldier within the BSK. Her mother, a baker. She grew up within the Kingdom of Haense, during a time of strife. Maela hadn’t known of any other family a majority of her life, the grandparents on both sides having long passed. No cousins, no siblings. Haense had a way of being cruel. She’d awaken within their small abode, tucked away in a corner. Her room, hidden from any inspectors. Maela would exit, stomping off snow as she’d grasp at her mothers hand, making way for the bakery. They’d bake, steam pouring out and warming the humble shop. She’d often been told to keep to herself growing up, and so when the baking finished, the reading began. Varying books of all sorts, sinking into whole new unknown worlds. There’d been times when she’d attempt to talk to another, only to be ignored. She’d only been a commoner, afterall. She’d make friends, those friendships lasting all of a few months before they were gone, slipping away like a snowflake on the wind. It’d been one of those days, she’d may have just hardly turned ten, maybe eleven. Her mittens rubbed together, in an attempt at generating warmth as she’d idle by the tavern, having finished her work alongside her mother for the day and her father still on his shift. Maelas breath frosted out in front of her, smoky as it filtered out, crystal blue eyes taking in the scenery. A young boy, his name lost to time, soon approached, speaking with her. A smile formed, talking easily with her fellow child and soon, he’d introduce her to his friend, Oskar Wick. Maela hadn’t met the young boy again but she’d become fast friends with Oskar. She’d awaken, bake with her mother and slip off to join him in fun escapades about the city, often bringing treats she’d slipped beneath her coat for them to enjoy together later on. Wet, squelching footsteps would sound within the sewers they’d all too often explore. The squeaking of rats as they’d duck into cracks and crevices along the ground, while others watched the duo with beady eyes, always, always watching. Oskar, donned in a fine yet worn coat would always protect Maela. They were like night and day, the two. The boy with dark hair and gray eyes, personality like midnight on a rainy day. The girl with pale hair and blue eyes, personality like sunshine bouncing off a window. Opposites and yet they’d gravitate towards one another. --- Time passed. The duo were thirteen and the Inferi war was taking place. Maelas father, Darien Frostfire, ever the loyal soldier had taken to the battlefield. Only to be felled. He died on the field, hit by a misshot arrow from his own side. It was never known who’d shot the arrow. Whether it be a mistake or purposeful. His body, brought home upon a board and a funeral soon hosted. Grief, it overtook the Frostfires. Now, only a widowed mother and a lost daughter. And yet, life did not let up. Darien Frostfire had secrets, a history unknown by his grieving family and so when the knock came, of Holy Knights at the door, shock came past the grief. They were there for Maela. Althea Frostfire, distraught, sent the Holy Knights away, for they were not to take her only daughter. But things only grew worse. With war, came a time of strife, of pain and wanting. --- A scholarly missive. The duo were now sixteen. Maela visited the home of Oskar Wick once more, with a freshly baked treat, steam wafting off of the dish and offering warmth in the frigid cold. She sat upon the chair, peering up at Oskar with the adoration she often did. Their childhood friendship turned to more as she found herself growing to love him, hoping that he may marry her someday. He took his hand in hers, taking her in with a look that said all was not well. He was scheduled to be executed the next day. His missive had gotten too much attention. Oskar, of course, was quick to assure her. This night, he’d fake his death but before that, he had a question: “Will vy marry me?” The answer was obvious, perhaps always obvious to those who’d seen the two together. “Da, always da.” And so a body, near unrecognizable, was found in his home that night, a note at its side. --- Maela played her part well. She grieved her friend, and unknown to those, fiancee. Clipped, dried flowers would be laid neatly at the entrance of the sewers. A shrine, in its own way. Family, it was something odd to her. Having always thought of herself alone, besides her late father, mother and now fiancee. But now, once more, those Holy Knights came back. A grand-uncle, heading the Holy Knights in the pilgrimage to come to new lands. The Inferi war had ended, and disaster struck again. Endless natural disasters, destroying her city and home. Holy Knights at her side, guarding her as she’s safely escorted to the City of Man. How many people must she have fed? Somehow in the chaos, her basket of goodies, meant to be brought to her fiancee wasn’t last. It went to the people, those starving as they awaited news of their homelands. And then they sailed on, to a new land, Almaris. --- A new home. It was odd, really. The buildings towered and the cold didn’t bite at her cheeks. Maela Frostfire and her fiance, Oskar Wick turned “Theodore Napier”, settled within the city of Providence. The first to marry within the church and certainly not the last, they stayed with a family friend as those got settled into their new homes. Maela, wishing to provide what she could, decorated the home. She’d bake and bake and bake, the ever-present scent of baked goods wafting through the kitchens and the hallways. Her now husband, he’d joined the ISA. Soon, waddling as she was with child, she’d bring him a lunch each day at work. A thermos of cocoa, to go with a slice of apple pie, freshly made whipped cream drizzled over the top and a second thermos of beef stew. Each meal, each dish, something different. Soon enough, he’d been elected Alderman and doing another line of work. Their first child was born, Darien Napier II, named after her late father. Their second came shortly after, Ophelia Napier II, named after Oskar Wicks twin. Maelas mother, Althea Frostfire, soon passed on. --- A time came, then. They could no longer hold the name of Napier, having outstayed their welcome with the trusted family friend. And, so with permission of their cousin branch as Oskar, ‘Theodore’ still kept his beating heart a secret, they took on Vuiller. Oskar, ‘Theodore’ passed one day when on the job and Maela followed shortly after. One might say it of a broken heart, as the woman withered away day by day after the loss of her beloved. --- In the name of genealogy, their current descendants, living or otherwise are as listed: Darien Jonathan Vuiller II Ophelia Althea Vuiller II Antonio Pepino, son of Ophelia and Guillame, her first husband Livia Joanna, son of Ophelia and Dmitri, her second husband
  3. THE LIFE AND TIMES OF CESAR I BY, FRANCISCO ALTAMIRANO, CARDINAL OF SUTICA TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTION I. BEGINNINGS II. REGAL CAREER III. DEATH IV. LEGACY INTRODUCTION This book was written due to my passion for the man widely known as Cesar I of Hyspia. Cesar I was the first Hyspian King, and head of House Rivera till 1795. His reign only lasted 5 years though, but these 5 years were filled with many feats and challenges for the King. This is his story. I. BEGINNINGS Cesar was born on an unknown date in 1773 to an unknown Father and Mother. He would lose his parents shortly into his life, both being lost in a foraging expedition. Due to this, he was raised by the Hyspian tribe as a whole, being taught scripture, military strategy, and proper Hyspian etiquette. These teachings would shape the boy into the man he would become. Cesar would continue to rise the ranks of prestige of the Hyspian social order, becoming more and more ambitious as he rose and rose. Cesar I would make many connections and allies during his time as a boy, not yet reaching the age if 17. He would ally himself with various Hyspian families. When Cesar I did eventually reach the age of 17, the Chieftain of Hyspia would perish to an unknown fate. This would be Cesar's gateway to Hyspian leadership, after the Chieftain died, he became Chieftain of Hyspia due to popular vote of the Hyspian people. Cesar being the ambitious man sought more than just a simple tribe, he sought a kingdom, and once Cesar sought his eyes on something, he would not stop glaring at it. Cesar would convince the families of Hyspia to let him lead them to the south, to the wildlands. Here he would begin the foundations of his kingdom. II. REGAL CAREER After the settlement and establishment of the first Capital Tierra Natal, Cesar declared the Barony of Hyspia. Immediately after, he ordered the construction of a protective wall around the new town to protect it from hostile raiding parties that roamed the wildlands in search of an easy target. After the completion of this wall and the further growth of the Barony and City, Cesar declared the Nationalization of Hyspia. The Nationalization of Hyspia declared the reformation of the Barony into the Kingdom of Hyspia, and the creation of the Hyspian Monarchist Army in the year 1792. A year later in 1793, Cesar created the Steward's Guild of Hyspia which became responsible for the construction, maintaining, and selling of buildings within Tierra Natal. It was in this same year that Cesar revealed the birth of his Son, Antonio Marvolo Rivera, and declared the creation of the Hand of the Crown, which was the second most powerful role in the Kingdom. Around this time, he gave approval for Juan Mendez and Pedro Gonzalez to duel in order to resolve the Mendez-Gonzalez feud. This duel was only to knockout, with Juan defeating Pedro. The approval of such a duel helped to end hostilities between the two men, up until the outrage of Pedro breaking into Juan's home. This led to a duel to the death. After this duel, Cesar's reputation was minorly damaged by some dissenters, who called him a weak ruler. However, Cesar managed to gain respect back after ordering the Hyspian Monarchist Army to partake in the Hyspian Expedition. The Expedition was organized to drive out the small bands of outlaws hiding around the Hyspian realm, and this action again established Cesar as a firm leader over Hyspia. Cesar had started the Hyspian-Bandit war in 1790 by declaring an outright crusade against banditry in the Wildlands, and appointed Juan Mendez to see to the military aspects of the War. After the Hyspian victory in the Battle outside Tierra Natal, Cesar's popularity among the people rose significantly. Though the later Raid on Tierra Natal did cause some mistrust, the raid was not consequential enough to truly diminish Cesar's popularity. Truth be told, this war was started based on a lie. The war was little more than a propaganda campaign created by the heads of the government to show the martial “strength” of the military, though the battles which occurred did happen and Cesar was never made aware of the true reasoning for the bandit raids. Cesar would continue his reign for some months later, continuing to expand the Hyspian state’s power within the Wildlands. III. DEATH (Painting of Hyspian Corte members finding the body of Cesar I) Only a year later in 1795, he would be killed by a disgruntled Hyspian farmer by taking an axe to the chest and succumbing to his wound instantly. Immediately following his death he was succeeded by his Son, Antonio I of Hyspia. He was buried in the exact same spot where he had founded Hyspia years ago, where the first cabin he lived in was raised. The funeral was one of the most emotional of the Kingdom with several of the King's close friends giving speeches about their experiences with the king. IV. LEGACY The legacy of Cesar I are the stories kept in the hearts of the Hyspians, Canonist or not, Cartagenan or Nueva Tierran alike. Cesar I was a true uniter of Hyspia as a state, and Hyspia as a culture. Cesar pioneered the thought process of the modern Hyspian, willing to take action in his own hands, even if they’re grimy and a bit disgusting. Even a Hyspian peasant is as capable of rising to the levels of the great King Cesar ‘the founder’. OOC: Note, this is not my character, this is @Javert's, he has given me permission to post such a thing
  4. Character Name Jonas Finnigan Nicknames: N/A Age: Mid 30's Gender: Male Race: Human Northerner Status: Growing greedier by the day Description Height: 5'5. Weight: 156 lbs. Body Type: Thin and lanky. Eyes: Dark Gray Hair: White Skin: Pale white. Markings/Tattoos: No where to be seen. But under his clothes he might have a few small markings. Health: Fairly healthy. Personality: Very greedy. Inventory: Jonas carries a number of misscellaneous items, that he constantly attempts to sell. He always has a small iron dagger in his vest pocket, as well as a few lockpicks. Further Details: Jonas teaters on the brink of insanity, kleptomania begginning to take him over. He grows more greedy everyday, but still keeps an open mind about schemes and plots to make him more money. Jonas's driving force in life is his money. Life Style Alignment*: Chaotic Neutral Deity*: None Religion: None Alliance/Nation/Home: He currently lives in Abresi. He comes from a small town up north. Job/Class: Jonas has high standards, but average living conditions. He used to be wealthier, in his prime. He 'works' at a Courier shop inside Abresi, but the Courier shop is but a cover for a group of Assassins working out of the shop. Jonas follows on assassinations to get the other members of the group into where the need. Title(s): N/A Profession(s): "Entrepreneur" is what Jonas likes to call himself. He sells less-than-honest merchandise, and considers himself a succesful thief - his main source of income. Special Skill(s): Adept lockpick. Able to throw daggers. Flaw(s): Jonas couldn't hit a wall with a sword if all the money in Anthos depended on it. He never fights hand-to-hand, and when he does, he only does it with a small dagger he carries. Magic* Current Status: N/A Arch-type:N/A Sub-Type:N/A Rank:N/A Weakness(es): Lack of magic? Strength(s):N/A Current Spell(s): N/A Weaponry Fighting Style: Staccato; when fighting with his dagger, Jonas makes quick, sudden, detached strikes. Trained Weapon: Dagger, and throwing blade. Favored Weapon: His language. Archery: He trained slightly as a youth. He's not outstanding. Biography Parents: Mother - Cared for Jonas individually as he was growing up. Jonas lost connection after leaving a fortune for her, then skipping town to not cause suspision. Father - Was an alcoholic, and likely didn't notice when Jonas left. Siblings: None, he was an only child. Children: None. Extended Family: Jonas never really had anyone besides himself. He's now closest with his friend, Frex Veoryn. Pet(s): None. History Jonas was born with light gray eyes, and blond hair. As he grew, his appearenced changed significanlty darker. His eyes turned to a darker dray, and his hair was a solid black. But still, Jonas was known as the whitest skinned kid in the town. He was a smart child, depsite his family's inability to afford formal schooling. Jonas was often at the library, reading books upon books on subjects even the adults knew little about. He read books on animals, and plants, and knights, and royalty. He also read books on princessess, and noble knights who would risk their lives to save these princesses, and were rewarded with the title of King. He particularly liked these stories. Not the princess, the riches the knights gained. It wasn't long before Jonas's studies found him reading a book titled, The Common Lock, and why it's Weak. This book became Jonas's favorite. He liked so much in fact, that he stole it from the library, and took it as his own. This was Jonas's first act of stealing. It would be one, of many, many more to come. Jonas was only 11 years old. Using the knowledge in this book, as well as many other books Jonas stole, he became efficient in the assembly, disassembly, and picking of many different types of locks. By this time, Jonas was a teenager, and stole for his own benefit. His, and his mother's, of course. Jonas loved but one thing more than stealing, and that was his mother. The only person in the entire world who actually care for Jonas, and the only person who Jonas ever cared for himself. She would od anything for him, and Jonas decided that he would do anything for her. He settled that Jonas would pay back his dues to his mother, no matter how much he owed her. He would give her enough money, that would fully reimburse her for all the trouble he'd caused her (By this age, Jonas found himself in prison multiple times), not to mention pay her enough that she would never have to work again. So Jonas waited, and waited, and took his time planning how he would do this. But in the meantime, Jonas still stole for himself. He did so much, that he was beginning to get a reputation. A bad one, and with everyone knowing that he was a thief, he had no one's trust (Not that he deserved it). A normal day for Jonas, he chose the wrong house to steal from; While picking the lock of a small back window of a house in the woods, Jonas felt a hand on his shoulder, and as he turned around, stricken with fear, he saw an elderly woman looking into his eyes. He let out a sigh of relief, before slipping out of her grasp, running into the woods. He didn't make it very far, before hearing a few words yelled out behind him, as well as seeing a flash of white light before he fell to the ground. His eyes grew heavy as he lied on the ground. He saw the woman approaching, just barely though, his eyes could hardly stay open. His cheek was pressed against the dirt, and his entire world was seen sideways. The women knelt down next to him, but that was the last he'd remembered. ------------------ Jonas awoke, with his hands bound. He could feel that he was in a chair, but his enviroment he knew nothing about, because his face was covered with a burlap sack. He heard shouting, but he could only make out a few words. "This boy's crimes against.... Thieving, no good, rotten teenager....Punished! Punished!.... Scarred! Marked! Tagged!" Jonas could hardly make this into something useful. He remained in the chair, listening. It took him as suprise when the burlap sack was taken from his face, and he was blinded by the outside sun. When he was able to see, he saw many familiar faces. His mother, peers from the town, people he recognized as his mother's friends. Jonas was thoroughly ashamed. Jonas was being called out on his crimes against the town, being guilty of stealing from nearly half the town. After being yelled out by an elderly woman for nearly an hour, Jonas's ties were cut, and he was allowed to leave. But he had to leave through the center of the crowd. They parted like the red sea when Jonas walked through. He heard many gasps as he walked by. He wasn't sure why, exactly. Was it because I got caught? Jonas thought to himself. Unfortunately when he found his mother, he also found out that this wasn't the reason they were all awestruck. Upon arriving home, Jonas's mother found him a mirror, and showed him why everyone was so suprised. Jonas's hair was a complete and brilliant white. All over. His hair completely inversed, and Jonas didn't know how to react. His mother informed him that it was the mark of a thief. A youth so young, with such brilliant white hair, will always be marked and known, as a thief. ---------------------- So Jonas decided to leave. But not before repaying his mother for all she'd done. He had to make one more great theft, that could pay his mother back everything. A golden helm, stolen from the treasury downtown. This was what he decided to steal. He had often sat outside the treasury watching people walk in and out, doing their business. But one man struck him as partiuculartly wealthy. He caught Jonas's attention, becuase of the amazing helmet he wore. Jonas would of followed him in, if he had been allowed. He wasn't allowed to do a lot of things now that he had the mark of the thief. But when the man left, the helm was gone, and Jonas was sure that he had put it into the bank. This is when Jonas made the decision that he had to steal it. It was in the dead of the night, and it wasn't easy, but Jonas took the helm, only barely alerting the guards. He was able to run faster than them, though. The helm went for a large price. A very large price. He left it in dozens of bags, on his bed the night he left. Jonas kissed his mother's forehead, walked out the door, and never came back. ------------------------ Artwork I wish!
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