Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Play by Post
Crowns of Ice - A Tale of Blood and Betrayal - III
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7033505" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p><strong>The bishop smiles and mingles with the other guests. Alec and Flavius had similar tastes and likewise habits. Most people credited such coincidence to their religious zeal, a trait not uncommon among demiurgians. Others, nevertheless, understood it to be the result of a few years of shared concerns and counsel. Imbued of a contained, yet energic, spirit, the bishop livened the party wherever he went, never overstaying his welcomes. Alec knew him to embrace happiness with care, given the “temptations of camaraderie”, as he used to say. This might be the ultimate cause for his continuous need of solitude, as he’d stroll through the fields or meditate in his chambers for many hours at a time, almost every day. It was only a matter of time before he left the party, unaccompanied and well-fed, to walk diligently and without second glances towards his own hold, not far from the longhouse. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As for the others, they fought bravely to exhaust the resources Alec’s servants so diligently kept placing upon the tables. Roasted meat, eggs, pigeons and mead, spiced fish, bread and cheese and all sorts of fruit one could find as summer approached were devoured mercilessly by giant appetites and growing spirits. The men and women from the Valleys were especially diligent in waging war against the full tables. Laughs, sweat and moans of exertion came out of dilated bellies and gaping mouths. Reddened cheeks slowly turned their attentions towards the fresh outdoors, seeking a fleeting truce, only to return to the toil of chewing and swallowing without regret or shame. Smoke of pipes filled the air as many a combatant fell, loosening belts and spreading bodies across free benches and planks. Others took to dancing, desperate to relieve the lascivious charges that overtook them as they gorged in Alec’s generosity. In the end, all desperate attempts to eat away the Jarl’s wealth – with ceremonious respect for him and his daughter, of course – were made to vanish, leaving behind a trail of half-cut pies and spewing honeycombs among flagons of tepid mead. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>But right now those things do not matter.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Many hours pass, and the Jarl of Viuland now rests his weary and dutiful shoulders against the backrest of his chair. Suddenly, his heart feels heavy, as if a second loss is bestowed upon him. Seconds of agony pass as he relives the loss of beloved Saria, grief weighting his soul and making lead of his thoughts. His mind, smiting memories of pain and grief into submission, suddenly realizes these concerns are not his own. Avriel feels it; thus, he feels as well. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Sylvia is the one to bring the news. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>She interrupts the languid tones of the hall with a strenuous, yet secretive, pace. Her hair and clothes are in disarray, perhaps by the rush, perhaps because of some of her juvenile provocations. But what calls for Alec’s attention are her eyes… Her eyes in distress, as they eagerly scan the place in search of the Jarl. No, not the Jarl. In search of Alec, her father. He knows that look… that look of helplessness. Since her tender days, whenever she felt helpless, that was the look that overtook her.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Her eyes meet his’, and soon enough she rushes towards him. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“Father…” – she tries to keep her tone down, but the fear in her voice betrays her.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“I saw…” – she gasps for air as she tries to speak. Her body shivers in a convulsive, desperate manner, attempting to convey a message Alec fears he already knows.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“It’s… It’s back! The boat… Is back!” </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As Sylvia chuckles, breathless, the hawk returns through the open doors, flying high into the halls and towards Alec. Exhausted, it sits upon his chair’s backrest, lowering its head towards him. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Men from the docks stroll, shortly after, concerned faces, stern brows. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“My lord… On the horizon… It returns.”</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>And, after that, all was silence. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=2820" target="_blank">Fenris</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=8058" target="_blank">Queenie</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855204" target="_blank">tglassy</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855130" target="_blank">Jago</a></u></strong></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 7033505, member: 6855545"] [B]The bishop smiles and mingles with the other guests. Alec and Flavius had similar tastes and likewise habits. Most people credited such coincidence to their religious zeal, a trait not uncommon among demiurgians. Others, nevertheless, understood it to be the result of a few years of shared concerns and counsel. Imbued of a contained, yet energic, spirit, the bishop livened the party wherever he went, never overstaying his welcomes. Alec knew him to embrace happiness with care, given the “temptations of camaraderie”, as he used to say. This might be the ultimate cause for his continuous need of solitude, as he’d stroll through the fields or meditate in his chambers for many hours at a time, almost every day. It was only a matter of time before he left the party, unaccompanied and well-fed, to walk diligently and without second glances towards his own hold, not far from the longhouse. As for the others, they fought bravely to exhaust the resources Alec’s servants so diligently kept placing upon the tables. Roasted meat, eggs, pigeons and mead, spiced fish, bread and cheese and all sorts of fruit one could find as summer approached were devoured mercilessly by giant appetites and growing spirits. The men and women from the Valleys were especially diligent in waging war against the full tables. Laughs, sweat and moans of exertion came out of dilated bellies and gaping mouths. Reddened cheeks slowly turned their attentions towards the fresh outdoors, seeking a fleeting truce, only to return to the toil of chewing and swallowing without regret or shame. Smoke of pipes filled the air as many a combatant fell, loosening belts and spreading bodies across free benches and planks. Others took to dancing, desperate to relieve the lascivious charges that overtook them as they gorged in Alec’s generosity. In the end, all desperate attempts to eat away the Jarl’s wealth – with ceremonious respect for him and his daughter, of course – were made to vanish, leaving behind a trail of half-cut pies and spewing honeycombs among flagons of tepid mead. But right now those things do not matter. Many hours pass, and the Jarl of Viuland now rests his weary and dutiful shoulders against the backrest of his chair. Suddenly, his heart feels heavy, as if a second loss is bestowed upon him. Seconds of agony pass as he relives the loss of beloved Saria, grief weighting his soul and making lead of his thoughts. His mind, smiting memories of pain and grief into submission, suddenly realizes these concerns are not his own. Avriel feels it; thus, he feels as well. Sylvia is the one to bring the news. She interrupts the languid tones of the hall with a strenuous, yet secretive, pace. Her hair and clothes are in disarray, perhaps by the rush, perhaps because of some of her juvenile provocations. But what calls for Alec’s attention are her eyes… Her eyes in distress, as they eagerly scan the place in search of the Jarl. No, not the Jarl. In search of Alec, her father. He knows that look… that look of helplessness. Since her tender days, whenever she felt helpless, that was the look that overtook her. Her eyes meet his’, and soon enough she rushes towards him. “Father…” – she tries to keep her tone down, but the fear in her voice betrays her. “I saw…” – she gasps for air as she tries to speak. Her body shivers in a convulsive, desperate manner, attempting to convey a message Alec fears he already knows. “It’s… It’s back! The boat… Is back!” As Sylvia chuckles, breathless, the hawk returns through the open doors, flying high into the halls and towards Alec. Exhausted, it sits upon his chair’s backrest, lowering its head towards him. Men from the docks stroll, shortly after, concerned faces, stern brows. “My lord… On the horizon… It returns.” And, after that, all was silence. [/B] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=2820"]Fenris[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=8058"]Queenie[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855204"]tglassy[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855130"]Jago[/URL][/U][/B][/I] [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Play by Post
Crowns of Ice - A Tale of Blood and Betrayal - III
Top