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Order of Ash

Posted: Fri Jan 14, 2022 7:16 pm
by Jean
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The Order of Ash
A thousand years of scheming to reckon.
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Frost 30th, 4621. Bardona, of Ciseperant.

By way of spelled wind, by shadow or by bird, a letter fragrant with the savory, tart scent of pomegranate arrived with the bold and striking name of its intended conspirator recipient scrawled in long, drawling prose upon the front. One each for Amyas, Ellasir, Jean.

They appeared appeared speckled and browned, weathered by time, as if written months ago. Each bore the seal of House Lorraine, the Lady on the Hill. The contentious fury of Lorraine dignity and honor.

That rugged vellum holstered a single, elegantly penned missive written in a language most familiar to the recipient, a page of firm and noble demands.

Dignitary of House Lorraine,

You are hereby invited to the cradle of elven hospitality, to the fertile lands of Ciseperant, within the humble lands of Bardona. You are to be given an audience with the Montese,
her excellence,
the magnanimous,
Lierel Lorraine the fearless,
Victor of the Battle at Vendigad,

Army of One,
One Above Armies.

You shall report to the embassy barracks in the royal quarter upon the dawn of this 30th of the Frost, to be prepared for her audience that hallowed eve, as you have been chosen for your zeal to enlist with the Omen in accordance with the Pontifex' call for aid in the struggles with oceanic corruption. That cursed false god, that damnable Lotheric, to be her eminence' faithful contribution to Ulen's rebuke of sinful abominations.

You will not refuse the veneration of our one, true, God.

Hallowed be Ulen's chosen, and especially the elves of Daravin in these trying times.

91, Rue de l'Église
Ciseperant, Bardona,
Royal Embassy of Bardona

Royal Scribe of the Efreet Order, Council of the Slayer,
Estelle Lorraine


An innocuous, inconspicuous, invaluable, indispensable creature by the name of Asphodel Avarice had been summoned as well, by different means than letter. An outside element to quell any scheming to the contrary of Lierel and Brilan Ald's intention. A piece to trip an oathbound tongue, and to aid in secrecy no doubt.

That Oath.

That troublesome thing.

Jean had attempted a process of deduction with an expendable slave soon to be Sundered. He could not find the words - they had been snatched from his throat, and his fingers drawled when trailing treasonous ink. In all his entitled wroth, he wanted to yell to the heavens his regrets for, but even such intentions were glutted into a growl.

Silver haired and proper with a decidedly youthful and pointedly elven face, Jean now stood with upstart curiosity behind lock and key. It was the first any who had survived Brilan Ald's court had lain eyes upon his elvenity. Each conspirator was recognized and guided to that quaint little room with a large dining table, an ocean of candles above glimmering over reflective tiles above.

It would not be such a bad thing, were the humans to have their legacies dashed, and the elves take back their lands. We are the superior race, after all. Even if we had chosen such weak gods in our time.

White gloves with tattered frills on the cuff of his wrist, Jean held his finger upon piles of treasonous, even heretical papers scattered over the lacquered, dark wood. Schematics. Plans. Correspondence. Histories of the Omen, the Pontifex, and of Necromancy - excerpts on Liches, anecdotal accounts and prophetic warnings.



Re: Order of Ash

Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 11:46 pm
by Asphodel Avarice
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Asphodel hardly belonged here. At least, it hardly felt as though she did. That said, who was she to reject the summons of nobility. Oh, how did she even manage to get in this mess again? Ah right. The same way she always did. Picking a fight she shouldn't have. Asphodel rarely if ever left the safety of the Badlands. As laughable as that combinations of words was, for someone like her? The Badlands were safe. At least, comparatively safer than the rest of Daravin. Sure, she couldn't be turned into a slave due to her magic, but her accent was muddle enough to stick out, she only knew common, and she knew very little of how to properly conduct herself outside of Daravin. So of course she'd draw eyes if anyone was to ever peer too closely at her. The best she could do was just hope no one paid that degree of attention. For the most part she did well. She was stealthy and quick, enough to usually stay out of trouble. That didn't always mean other people could stay out of trouble though.

It'd happened not that long ago. A fight between two serfs, and she'd just had the audacity to step in because a kit was really close to being caught up in it. And wouldn't you just know, maybe using baptism openly would draw some attention all things considered! Yeah, that one was on Asphodel...

She didn't regret it!

...

Maybe she regretted it a smidge.

Regrets did nothing when face to face with the present though. The entire situation had been a mess, and ultimately, this is where she'd ended up. The standing deal was that if she helped with this little mission as well possible future endeavors, then she'd be allowed to come and go as she pleased, returning home after everything was finally said and done. It was her intention to do just that. She'd get this mission over with and then she'd head back to where she felt the most comfortable.

That didn't mean she hated the feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb any less. She didn't bother trying to hide the fact she was a rathor if attention was going to already be on her. Her ears twitched and flicked at every sound, tail swaying as she watched. It was not her job to understand what was going on outside of just being able to understand enough that she could complete her purpose within this mission. It was her job to take orders and utilize her skills however necessary. Then she could leave. Simple as that.

So rather than engaging she simply waited. Waited and watched.