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 Online Recap 25.10.2018

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Online Recap 25.10.2018 Empty
PostSubject: Online Recap 25.10.2018   Online Recap 25.10.2018 I_icon_minitimeWed 31 Oct 2018, 15:44

Duke Esmond looks at Tylendel

Esmond: "One thing, my lord. An idea I.. No, acutally, it was my daughter’s. What if we sent a scouting party up the river to Mosset and Kardoon and the other small ports. With luck, we could find a ship that is berthed, or inside a wharf... It would save us time. You can think on it if you will, my lord."

Tylendel: "Yes."

The Duke and his company leaves the room.

Bohumíl: "Well that was---"

He interrupts himself, then crosses the room and looks out a window before exiting to the balcony.

Tylendel turns his attention back to the mirror, trying to check if it needs restas well as checking if it’s something that requires his attention.

Tylendel: "Show my what requires Duke Esmond’s attention."

The mirror starts swirling, and he is shown Highwind Keep and the courtyard. He sees some guards that are talking exitedly, some talking to the young ones having an archery contest.

Bohumíl (shouting): "Will you require assistance?"

Andraw (distant): "We’re good!"

Thinking that is a minor archery accident and that he’ll be notified if it’s something more important going on, Tylendel focusses on the mirror again, now that it appears to co-operate.

Tylendel: "Show me the Crow-king."

In the mirror, Highwind Keep fades into blackness and something less black slowly shows itself. It looks like a landscape but it turns out it is the face of the Crow-king. He is looking back at Tylendel, and he smiles.

Tylendel feels that the Crow-king is trying to contact him. He tries to resist, but the Crow-king breaks through, and Tylendel heards the fluttering of a thousand crow’s wings.

Crow-king: "Youg fool, now you made your last mistake."

Tylendel starts casting a spell, trying to rotate the Crow-king’s head in order to break his neck. He casts the spell, using much of his spell power, but the Crow-king is barely able to resist.

Crow-king: "You have trained youreself well, but I could make you even stronger. But now it is too late. You have revealed too much now. He is coming. Are you ready?"

The mirror goes black, and Bohumíl comes back in and stands by the table. Tylendel leans over the table.

Bohumíl: "Wine? It’s watered down."

Tylendel: "Please."

Bohumíl fills a finely carved cup for Tylendel. He lays a hand on Tylendel’s shoulder.

Bohumíl: "You okay?"

Tylendel: "The Crow-king resists me. I don’t like it."

Bohumíl: "I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate you pushing him either."

Tylendel: "No. Especially not after I broke all his mirrors."

Tylendel grins weakly

Bohumíl: "Oh? Surely there is one left."

He looks at the mirror in front of Tylendel.

Tylendel: "This one."

Bohumíl: "I hope you are careful with that thing. Who knows what it can lead us to."

Tylendel sips his wine. An Ahár slave enters the room and starts cleaning.

Bohumíl shakes his head and gives Tylendel and admiring look.

Tylendel: "How are the food supplies?"

Bohumíl: "Well, there is a rumour doing the rounds, that the inimitable Greyoak brough a large supply of wheat and salted meat into Holy Hill just a day ago. Heh. You are like a one-man army company comined with a one-man mecic company combined with... Almost everything, I think. I wish I had known your stepfather better. He must have been a most impressive teacher."

Tylendel: "I’ve had some good teachers both when I grew up and the last few years."

Bohumíl: "The man of mystery."

Tylendel: "Do we have mills to grind the wheat? The bran can be used to make mash for the horses. I thought it would solve two problems at once with wheat instead of flour."

Bohumíl: "I see. Well, the city is large. There is no mill here, but there are mills in the city. But then we wold have to, I assume, dismantle it and bring it here, or send millers down there under heavy protection."

Tylendel: "Do we have hand mills? Let all these, for now useless, soldiers do something."

Bohumíl: "I cannot imagine that we cannot find such a thing. There must be many of them scattered around. I don’t know how thorough Syr Gyllian has been in scouring the city for items of worth, but I assume he would be the one to know. I believe he is in the shrine. The one here."

Tylendel: "The Harvesters. Send some of the Harvesters for scavenging. Many of them are craftsmen and they’ll know what they are looking for."

Bohumíl: "You want me to speak to the Prohpet’s men, to arrange this?"

Tylendel: "I can speak to Syr Dostan. There is something I need to talk to him about anyway."

Bohumíl: "As you wish. Should we find hand mills that are in need of repair, we always have Eamhýn."

Tylendel: "Yes."

Bohumíl: "His progress is going well. I have rarely seens men works so hard."

Tylendel: "He is a good taskmaster."

Bohumíl: "But then again, I have always been surrounded by lazy courtiers."

Tylendel: "I think the smithy at the Hall of the Watchers was the most ordered place there. He is a good taskmaster, and not a cruel one."

Bohumíl: "Yes. My sense is that he is a good man. I believe he lost some sons...? Up in the halls?"

Tylendel nods.

Tylendel: "Yes."

Bohumíl shakes his head.

Bohumíl: "We all have losses to deal with."

Tylendel exhales heavily, thinking of Ranata, Hazel and Dinja.

Tylendel: "Yes."

The Ahár "servant" comes over to their table and starts clearing away the setting.

Ahár: "Eggshquze."

Tylendel taps his fingers on the mirror.

Tylendel: "Show us the army of the Holy Sword of the East."

This time the mirror stays black.

Tylendel: "And now, it seems, I’ve strained the mirror too much."

Bohumíl: "What do you mean?"

Tylendel: "When I’ve used it to show me things a few times it just stops being cooperative. It’s like it’s exhausted and needs to rest."

Bohumíl: "I see. Such a strange device. It’s no wonder that the Cult, or whatever it is, have so often been seemingle full of foresight."

Tylendel: "They had dozens of these mirrors."

Bohumíl: "Well, if in truth you have destroyed them, it cvould be a great advantage to us."

Tylendel: "I destroyed the ones beneath the Crow-king’s Keep years ago, and, of course, unless the Crow-king has even more hidden away, the ones he had where I took this one were the last ones."

Bohumíl: "So you have known about these mirrors for a long time?"

Tylendel: "I’ve known that they existed, although I didn’t know what they were until recently."

Bohumíl: "I see. Well, now you certainly know. I’m amazed at how you can, well, control it, as it seems to me."

Tylendel: "Well it helps that I can do something like the mirror does even without the mirror."

Bohumíl: "I see. You mean... Your... Gift? Your magic?"

Tylendel: "Yes. Although it’s easier to use the mirror, and to use my magic I need to know, well, exactly what I am searching for. The mirror, that seems... How do I put it? It seems to understand what I want to see, and then find the answer for me."

Bohumíl: "It is truly an amazing artifact. Imagine..."

Tylendel: "It is supposed to have been made by the smith that made Creeping God’s Bane. And that dagger I gave you."

Bohumíl: "Ancient, then."

Tylendel: "Brentonní."

Bohumíl: "What do you know about this smith? Was it a god? A dragon king?"

Tylendel explains what he knows about Lug.

Bohumíl: "I admit that I have but a passing knowledge of these things. I read a few books in my youth, at the castle, but that was a long time ago. I seem to remember reading that the dragon kings were ... gods?"

Tylendel: "No."

He explains what he knows about the dragon kings and the man-wolves.

Bohumíl: "I... Well, as I said, it was never my strongest forte to study old histories. I’ve heard, of course, about he legends through songs and poems. My good friend Adoný, he liked those things. He always loved stories. Sometimes when he was in the mood he would put up a puppet show. And usually he was so drunk at the end that each end every story unravelled into something stupid. The mystery knight."

Tylendel: "Well, that’s what happens with most legends and history when they get old enough. They unravel into myth."

Bohumíl: "Yes, I guess they do. What do you think? What will people think of Tylendel Greyoak 300 years from now?"

Tylendel: "Either as one who fought against the gods or someone who led his people into ruin."

Bohumíl: "I’ll choose the first, if you don’t mind."

Tylendel: "That’s what I’m trying to achieve."

Bohumíl: "Have you heard the story of Tylendel the God-slayer?"

Tylendel: "That does have a nice ring to it."

Bohumíl smiles

Bohumíl: "I did catch myself wondering, the other morning, how far your legend can have spread. How they are talking about you in distant cities, hamlets, I don’t know, my lord. Or are we lost inside a shroud of darkness, so none will recognise our."

Tylendel: "Well, they’ll have completely different sorts of legends aboutmy in Teríne, at least."

He smiles

Bohumíl: "Teríne? I don’t know what... Is it a place?"

Tylendel: "It’s a city, on the southern shores of the Empyre. Your brother and I wintered there. I worked as a whore."

He grins

Bohumíl: "What?!"

Tylendel: "I had to make some money to pay for room and board."

Bohumíl: "Okay. I’m not gonna hold that against you. I’ve done my fairt share of sinning. But no, I’ve never heard of Teríne and... Well if thats the kind of legend you are there..."

Tylendel: "And in the Heidenmark, if someone would recognise me, they’d know me as a dancer that went from fair to fair entertaining people."

Bohumíl: "As I say, you truly are a man of many, many talents."

Tylendel: "And in the Vychrib Hills I was a farmer."

Bohumíl: "Where?"

Tylendel: "Oh, it’s all the way west in Dehn Sovor."

Bohumíl: "I haven’t heard of those hills, I’m sorry to say. I do know there’s a province named Dehn Sovor. It’s... Well, it’s one of the heartland provinces, if I remember correctly."

Tylendel: "Yes. I lived there for a couple of years with my wife."

Bohumíl: "When you were gone from Barosía."

Tylendel: "Yes."

Bohumíl: "The wife you lost."

Tylendel: "Yes."

Bohumíl: "I remember her. Renata."

Tylendel: "She was very memorable."

Bohumíl: "Yes. Many of my friends at court spoke of her. Daughter of a ... miller? Cobbler?"

Tylendel: "Carpenter. The Carpenter’s Jewel."

Bohumíl: "Yes. Of course I remember her. There was some Imlia involvement."

Tylendel: "Well, she and I had a deal never to speak about that."

Bohumíl: "I understand. I’m sorry for poking."

Tylendel: "That’s okay."

Bohumíl: "But... Considering how much time we’ve spent together these last days, I feel I don’t truly know you. Well, I know you more now. Perhaps some of the things I’ve learned I didn’t have to know."

Tylendel grins

Tylendel: "I’ll see if I can pack away this mirror again, and try to get hold of the rest of the armour."

Bohumíl: "I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, my lord: Ask when and if you need my assistance. I am honoured to serve you. You have opened my eyes. I had them half opened, but you helped me to push those lids right up."

Tylendel: "I thank you for the offer and you’re welcome."

Bohumíl: "If I may, I have one personal question for you."

Tylendel: "Of course."

Bohumíl: "How do you deal with the things that you regret the most?"

Tylendel: "Some times you try not think about them, some times you need to think about them. I cannot give you an answer there. If I had taken one decision that I didn’t take, my wife would be alive and I would have been a father now."

Bohumíl: "Your greatest regret?"

Tylendel: "Yes. How do I think about that? I don’t, because thinking about it would break me. Sometimes thoughts come anyway, and... You just have to stay strong and fight through it."

Bohumíl: "Yes. Well, my biggest regret kind of solved itself with your help. Yeah, that I didn’t sooner realise what was going on inside Camrey Castle. And when I first began to unravel it it was too late. So that I executed Syr Osmyr to impress my father, a few years before the tourney at Arganhold. Sometimes I fall into these regretful thoughts and sometimes I manage to think of something I do not regret. As if that could be a way to balance the weight. I do not regret sending my friend to help your friend here in the city when he was fleeing his execution. I don’t regret one second I spent with Adony, despite my father’s anger. Did I tell you that he threw me out of that tower?"

Tylendel: "Your father dide?"

Bohumíl: "Yes."

Tylendel: "I did not know that."

Bohumíl: "That’s what almost broke me. That’s when I began to understand that the time to change was coming. That’s when I set out as a mystery knight. Somehow I survived, but you know what they say: The Novíla is our people’s life blood."

Tylendel: "Sounds like someone caught you,"

Bohumíl: "Yes. Icy cold water. Somehow I managed to spin myself around so that I came head first. The crash was... I think I broke every bone in my body. It felt like that. I hit the bottom, and I promise you that it is fairly deep around the Bend. But do you know why I deserve that fate? That is the most ironic thing of it all. It was in defense of my sister."

He shakes his head and refills his cup.

Bohumíl: "Do you know what her problem always has been?"

Tylendel: "Your sister?"

Bohumíl: "Yes."

Tylendel: "She hungers for power."

Bohumíl: "Too much like her father. And so was I. But I was able to restrain myself. I looked at my poor mother. Isn’t it strange how we’re destined to resemble our parents?"

Knowing who his father is, Tylendel only smiles.

Bohumíl: "But now she greives. Little Orlos didn’t make it. Aron’s son."

Tylendel: "And does she still have the hunger?"

Bohumíl: "I hope she is realising that there is nothing to hunger for. I have spoken to her, and tried to explain to her why I, well, do what I do now, but she... Her callous heart, my lord, hammered hard by her father. It’s ironic how much Lord Aron resisted his grandfather’s proposal to marry off his grandson to her, because I think she was even more furious. Can you imagine? Lord Aron, I assume, would be a good prospect for any youg lady of any noble house. Not for her."

Tylendel: "A good prospect for anyone seeking power."

Bohumíl: "I think she didn’t want to share any power she could weild. And I’m fairly certain that she had always had on her mind that she would inherit Father’s seat, ’cause her brother can be stubborn as well. Oh, I feel almost glad that the Camrey line dies with us. Shame, regret, guilt. Anger. As I said to you before, some part of me wishes to, somehow, cleanse our name but the world around me tells me that it is too late for the Camreys."

Tylendel: "Maybe for Hourse Camrey, but not the Camreys."

Bohumíl thinks about that for some time.

Bohumíl: "What do you think, should I find myself a new surname?"

Tylendel: "Well, my stepfather bought my name from an old family."

Bohumíl: "I see."

Tylendel: "I’m not actually of the Greyoak family, but I became that. Maybe you could find a name that, how should I put it, a name that sings to you."

Bohumíl: "The Greyoaks; I don’t know much about that family. Obviously, I know that they must hav had some holdings."

Tylendel: "I don’t know much about them either. I think it was only an old couple that was left when my stepfather came to them and... Basically bought their name for me."

Bohumíl: "Oh yes, he was ever a stinkingly wealthy man."

Tylendel: "And devious."

Bohumíl: "Despite his modest mansion. He had a grander keep in the Copper Lands."

Tylendel nods.

Tylendel: "I only visited once, when I was rather young. I spent most of my time in the city, being trained by Kessant and Syr Artell. And, of course, Lord Emon himself."

Bohumíl: "Kessant, the alchemist?"

Tylendel: "Indeed."

Bohumíl: "The steward."

Bohumíl taps his fingers on the table.

Bohumíl: "It was nice talkng to you, Tylendel, but duty calls. I ought to spar with the younger ones. Keep them fit for fight. It’s coming."

Tylendel: "Ten days. Maybe a fortnight."

Bohumíl: "May the saints watch over us."

Tylendel: "May we all watch each others’ backs."

Bohumíl: "Yes."

He smiles, then walks over to a wall to fetch his sword. His longsword’s handle is shaped like a cup. He salutes Tylendel, then leave the room. Tylendel returns the mirror to the vault, then leaves the House of Martial Holies for the temple. At the doors of the temple, one of the guards stands out. He is a very tall soldier, and his looks reminds Tylendel of the Thennely family. He is wearing a very large gorget. Tylendel thinks has seen him before, but is uncertain.

Tylendel: "They certainly grow them big in the north. The steel in that gorget could make me a breastplate."

The man grunts.

Mistmarker: "You recognise me, lord?"

Tylendel: "There is something familiar about you, yes."

Mistmarker: "Well, the name’s Jarden, my lord. My father was the duke of Mistmark in his time."

Tylendel: "Wait a moment... Does that mean that you are Lord Byrn’s uncle?"

Jarden: "He’s my half-brother, my lord. His mother was Mala, my mother was Raína."

Tylendel: "Well, your father certainly started early, then."

Jarden: "What of it?"

Tylendel: "Oh nothing of it, I started early as well."

Jarden: "I’m sure you did, my lord."

Tylendel: "Well, it’s always good to have northmen around."

Jarden: "Thank you, my lord. There are not many of us here, but we have men. We serve Count Roben of Falkerstone."

Tylendel: "Good. Hopefully your brother is on his way east again as well."

Jarden: "Well, my apologies for keeping you standing hyere, of course. Should we open the doors?"

Tylendel: "Nothing to apologise for. Please."

Tylendel enters the temple and heads up towards the infirmary. Midways in the stair he recalls that he once travelled, in disguise, in a caravan heading to Mistmark. In that caravan was The Bastard Prince, Jarden Thennely. Grinning, Tylendel thinks that Jarden may not be looking forward to his brother’s arrival after all.

Once upstairs he first enters the main room of the infirmary to check if Syr Floryan is awake. He finds Ghoston of Ruva, Wilmar Wick, and a sleeping Syr Floryan. Ghoston is writing something.

Ghoston: "My lord."

He stands up and bows. He gestures towards Syr Floryan.

Ghoston: "He has spoken again in his dreams."

Tylendel: "Indeed?"

Ghoston: "Yes. It was, perhaps, five glasses ago. He... He suddenly awoke and shoutet "My lord!" And, well, there were nop lords in the vicinity so I rushed over, and he, he grabbed me by my collar and looked me in the eyes as if he knew I was there, and he said: "Tell him that The Wall of Scars will sleep for a long time." And then he dropped back in his bed.

Tylendel sighs.

Ghoston: "I’ve had Wilmar look to him since then. It worries me, my lord. Do you think this is connected to your friend and the Prophet?"

Tylendel: "Eld was named the Wall of Scars. This is worrying."

Ghoston: "I’ve heard a rumour, my lord, apologies if this is wrong, but I’ve heard rumours that the Prophet is fighting ... a battle in the realm of dreams."

Tylendel: "Yes, this is true."

Ghoston: "Is that where the Knight of the Moon is?"

Tylendel exhales

Tylendel: "It’s possible."

Ghoston: "A fever broke on him when he fell back to sleep. Now it’s good, as if telling me was such a strain."

Tylendel: "All three of them may be fighting the same battle."

Ghoston: "What can I do?"

Tylendel: "Care for them as best you can. I know it’s not hopefull, but... They will sleep or they will wake."

Ghoston: "I understand. I’ve been tasked to be as vigilant as I can here, but I must ask, forgive me. Could you help me... Do you think someone can spare a few extra men here? They don’t need to be skilled at all, just that, it’s easier for me to visit the Prophet and your friend, and be assured that someone is... That I have more eyes here for their... I beg you humbly, my lord."

Tylendel: "I’ll see what I can do."

Ghoston: "In fact, I was just writing a request. Could you bring it to the Council?"

Tylendel: "There’s no need to involve the Council. I’ll see to it."

Ghoston: "Thank you, my lord."

Tylendel: "I’m going to see to the Prophet now. Was he in the first or second room?"

Ghoston: "I’ll take you there, my lord."

Ghoston guides Tylendel to Haskent’s room.

Ghoston: "And your friend is in the neighbouring room."

Tylendel: "Thank you, Ghoston."

Ghoston: "It is my pleasure to serve. Thank you again."

Ghoston leaves Tylendel alone with the Prophet.

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Last edited by Slynt on Wed 31 Oct 2018, 15:44; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Online Recap 25.10.2018   Online Recap 25.10.2018 I_icon_minitimeWed 31 Oct 2018, 15:44

He takes out Shadowbreaker to light the room, then leaves sits down by Haskent’s bed.

Tylendel: "Oh, I could sure use your advice, old friend."

The Prophet lies unmoving. Tylendel lays Shadowbreaker on the bed. He makes sure he’s comfortable on the chair, then closes his eyes and journeys to the Between, trying to reach the Prophet.

He feels himself slipping from his body to the Between, and once he settles he opens his eyes.

He finds himself standing in a mire. Remembering that Haskent was in a stone desert the last time he saw him, he travels onwards.

This time he finds himself on a large flat covered in sand and stone. The area seems more similar to where he thinks he is going, but it’s still not the same. There are diamond-like clouds overhead that piques his curiosity, but he feels like he is in a hurry and moves on.

The next place he lands in, after some distractions during travel, is another flat piece of land, but this time covered with irridescent, green grass. The air is filled with glittering motes falling to the ground – when he is hit, he notices that it is raining glass. He moves on.

He finds himself on a massive block on stone floating through the air. He has been here before, and as before he moves on.

Tylendel stand in the shadows of some very tall rock formations, 5-600 yards tall. The rocks look like enormous nails with small passages between them. He is about to travel onwards when he noticed that the stone needle right in front of him has a stone carving on it. The carving is very rough, but he can see that it is of a person with four arms. There are more carvings on other stones, and he starts following them – the carvings show what Tylendel interprets as The Lost God in various positions. He also starts hearing something that sounds like a horse galloping. As he walks from figure to figure, needle to needle, suddenly a horse appears, galloping towards him. It is a black horse with a white star on its forehead, but there are also guts dragging from its stomach, and the hide looks half rotten.Bones stick through the rotten hide, and the mouth is full of fangs.

Tylendel: "Oh, fuck."

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