Open Chronicles A Diplomatic Ball

A roleplay open for anyone to join

Gwynnestri Ravaneiros

Princess of the Sky Elves
Character Biography
Princess Gwynnestri Ravaneiros had never been quite so excited in her lifetime. For the first time in her father’s reign, a ball was being held, hosted by none other than the Sky Elves themselves. It had been Gwynnestri’s idea, really. She was more open-minded than her father, and saw more benefits in this ball and the alliances it would bring them than downfalls. For years, the Sky Elves had dwindled, isolating themselves in the treacherous landscape of The Spine in an effort to protect themselves from the rest of the world. This ball was an event where alliances would be made and strengthened, and hopefully everyone would warm up to the idea of the Sky Elves returning to the political stage.

She was dressing for the ball, her lady’s maids finishing the final adjustments. Tonight, she wore a white gown with a corset bodice embroidered with leaves, the embroidered sleeves falling off her shoulders, exposing her collar and the curves of the tops of her breasts. The embroidery continued down past the waist of the dress, the skirts still voluminous even without a petticoat. Her hair was pinned up and off her neck, revealing her pointed ears, which were adorned with gold earrings. She needed no face paint- her skin was pale and her cheeks flushed with excitement.

One of her lady maids, Grycia, stepped back to look at the princess. “You look lovely, Gwynnestri,” The others murmured their agreement. The three of them were friends- how could they not be when she saw them every day? "Thank you," Gwynnestri replied, smoothing her hands over the front of the dress. The maids dipped in curtsies as they excited. Gwynn left her bedroom and entered the front sitting room in her chambers, where her bodyguard, Reynard, was waiting.

Reynard De Eramant
Reynard sat in the sitting room while Gwynn dressed for the ball. He let out a small sigh, one born not of contempt or anything negative but frankly out of anxiety. Reynard was a mercenary, one far more used to surviving in the wild than under the watchful eye of nobility and royalty. The ball was sure to be good for political intrigue and forming diplomatic relationships but it was certainly out of his comfort zone. Reynard was dressed more or less as he usually was though he was provided nicer, brand new leather as opposed to the old and worn leather he usually wore.

As much as wearing fancy, ball appropriate clothes would've taken attention off of him Reynard really couldn't afford to be anything less than absolutely prepared for the worst. This ball was a nice big event sure but that also meant it was a prime opportunity for the assassin to make another attempt on Gwynn's life. He needed to pass on the fun a ball might provide and focus on his job first and foremost. He was here to protect Gwynn's life and that was his top priority. He could only hope that it went well and that Gwynn could enjoy herself. That was also part of his job, to make sure Gwynn could live her life without the constant fear that being chased by a killer entailed.

Just as the mental storm threatened to get out control Gwynn stepped out of her bedroom and he saw her in the outfit she'd be wearing for the ball. It took a lot of self control for his jaw not to drop at the sight. He already knew Gwynn was quite attractive, that much was obvious even at a glance and even to an uneducated mercenary like him but in this outfit she was downright mind blowing.

By the grace of some benevolent god Reynard managed to keep his jaw closed and offered a smile, a stunned smile but one nonetheless. Reynard mustered some courage and stood from his seating position, smile still on his face. "You look incredible. It seems I'm going to look even further out of place standing next to you then I was going to." he said with a chuckle. In reality he didn't really mind looking out of place, he knew how to deal with it already. He'd be able to focus on the task at hand rather than everyone's judging looks.
Astenvale Monestary: Sometime before the Ball

"A... sky carriage?" Helena asked.

wtis-dwarf-female-art.jpgThe dwarf, Syr Gwynvir Gemmarrow, grinned, proud and toothy, her gold capped teeth glittered. "Aye, sent a missive to one of m'kin when word carried cross the stones of the Monastery, that our humble order had received a proper invitation to a ball with the Sky Elves, no less," she fingered the fur lining of her bold red vest. "Well, let's just say he owed us a wee favor, and and I made sure to collect,"

Helena nod slowly, though the confusion was still plain on her face. "A sky carriage?" she asked again.

Syr Gemmarrow kept her proud grin. "Aye, Captain, a carriage, for the sky," she puffed up some at this. "A marvel of dwarven engineering, a relic of a bygone era!"

Helena just stared wide eyed.

Gwynvir looked smug as a bug. "What better way, for the Knights to make their appearance, hmm?"

"Right... yes... and, you know how to... fly this thing?"
She had heard of airships spotted across the lands. Rare and mysterious marvels, put together through sheer ingenuity, and magi-craft well guarded. Maybe they could study its construction on the ride over.

Gwynvir flexed her stout arm, and gave her bicep a slap. "Sure as a dwarf can mine I can!"

Aboard the Sky Carriage enroute: Early in the evening, the day of the Ball

Sweet Sarah.

Not the name Helena would have picked for the...Sky Carriage, but she had to admit, the name seemed to fit the pink painted vessel.

Small as it was, not much bigger than a herring boat, most of its mass came from a great bladder full of magicked air that ran through what would normally be the hull and storage. The hull around it like wooden armor, and the clean lines of a keel, she imagined, helped the Sarah cut through the air. Copper and brass pipes fluted and veined throughout feeding air and heat from the magick furnace to the bladder, and propellent veins, is what Gwynvir's cousin, Lynvir, had told Helena when she had first boarded.

A few cabins housed six comfortably. And, despite all the rattling of the planks and the noise from the wind, the rooms were quite cozy. Furnished with a plush bed, and a fine desk. Her room even had a mirror. She wondered if all the accompanying knights had one. And how those who had drawn the short straw and needed to share bunks were doing.

She laughed.

A cry like lightning pierced the sky. And Helena's wide eyes looked out the porthole window of her room. A great eagle. she thought with girlish smile crooking her lip.

A hard nock on the door. "Capn! If you come out, you can see the towers!" Gwynvir said with excitement, and hurried. off.

Well. Helena thought as she looked at the mirror, and saw the fine white gown she wore, and the care she had taken to craft her mask of magick dust and khol. She was glad Selene had been there to help her with her hair, though, she'd probably need to ask for another touch up before they landed. She huffed. Nod. And got up from the small cushioned stool before she made her way to her cabin's door.

This was already proving most interesting.
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"Eugh please no. Not the formals! I thought three were on guard duty!" Fynaurie rolled her eyes as she protested.


That was Hindrath, deputy to Wing Commander Brynthas and aspiring brown-nose-in-chief. He was reminding Fynaurie that she was Flight Leader of Fourth now and expected to act with more decorum.

Lewell had died in a wyvern attack on their Flight and the Princess and might to her surprise, herself and Vaxor had been promoted. Vaxor was very pleased to have one gold painted feather on each wing tip, but she hated the responsibility.

"Flight Leader Jerys has taken ill. So your flight will be joining in on guard duty. And yes, Fynaurie, that means formals," Wing Commander Brynthas instructed.

"Which also means you won't cause a diplomatic incident whilst..." Hindrath started to explain, but he was silenced with a wave from the Wing Commander.

Fynaurie knew why the assistant hated her. She had been the most rebellious and difficult trainee in decades. Also one of the most natural flyers. Vaxor was still growing and would be a fearsome asset.

Their people had been mostly isolated for thousands of years. The towers that dotted the spine predated even the sky elves. They had no idea who had built them.

Fynaurie had found murals deep in the bowels of Kearth which showed depictions of great battles where Sky Elves fought with their cousins. There were maps of the entire world that showed how each skystream could be used to travel far and wide. Once they had been a part of the world.

Now there were just two inhabited towers. They had mostly isolated themselves from the world and become a dogmatic and militaristic people. They lived simple lives crammed into their barracks and the Dragoons were held in high regard in their society.

Maybe this was a change that would led Fynaurie see more of the world than the cold grey stone of Kearth and landscapes from a great height.
Caliane let out a quiet sigh of contentment as the setting suns rays danced across her spread wings warming her muscles. It was the final adornment to what had been a pleasant flight; the air currents were smooth and favourable for the direction in which she flew, the temperatures were rising as the world crept towards summer, and she had not been flying alone. Other Avariel's dotted the sky above and below her, some who flew wingtip to wingtip and others who chose to lose themselves in their own thoughts as they made their way towards Kearth. A sight such as this had not been seen in centuries. Caliane mused - as she oft had since receiving the invitation - how not one but two great races had chosen to rejoin the rest of the world with a short span between them. Was it a mark of the changing times of the world? Or that the young merely grew weary with the bonds imposed by the old, a story as old as time itself?

It was a theory for the philosophers to muse over. For Caliane, the night ahead was a chance to be normal. Her troubling missions as of late with her closest friends had led to captivity and battling a darkness the likes of which the whole world would soon feel. Tonight would be a chance to forget all of that and bask in the simple pleasure of life, food and drink.

1676756320400.pngAs they drew closer they met patrols which seemed to grow in size and frequency the closer they drew and riders and Avariel called out to one another in greeting. At one point, one Avariel even detached themselves to fly wingtip to wingtip with an eagle making Caliane smile to herself. How could they have all been denying themselves this for so long? When, eventually, they did make it to the great spire at which the ball would be held, Caliane touched down on the wide landing platform and folded her red-tipped wings in. In order to fly with a modicum of decency she had chosen wide leg trousers that now she had landed settled into the appearance of a skirt least someone was paying close attention. Several Avariel soon joined her and they were ushered into the ballroom.
It felt strange to be travelling with the knights without his armour, and odder still to be wearing such fine vestments – a white silk tunic beneath a double-breasted jacket of twilight blue. The entire outfit had to be tailored to fit him, and those who did had done a fine job. Really, it had been Helena's idea. Were it up to Osuin, he'd have simply thrown on the finest clothes in his closet, which she candidly informed him weren't nearly fine enough at all.

The strangest aspect of the voyage by far was the airborne ship on which they travelled. He wasn't a stranger to heights, having taken flight before, But it was a different matter when he was riding a creature he could place his trust in. While spacious, the airship was a machine, and could not reflectively react to the plight of its riders. Osuin had a hard time placing trust in it. Nonetheless, he dared not display any anxiety, lest he disturb the others. It was easy enough to ignore anyhow, when most of his time was spent in his quarters below deck.

Which had been where he was when he heard the call that their destination had been sighted. Osuin rose from his seat on his bedding and made his way up to the top of the ship, curious to see it for himself.
Selene was already above deck as the others got ready, having no hair to style and a neutrality towards face paint that made her quite lazy at it. The sort of parties she went to, it always got rubbed off by the end of the night anyway. Instead of a dress, she had opted for the ceremonial armor of the Dusk Sanctum. Rich, dark blue fabric poked out underneath gilded black plate. A long, shear cloak draped down from her shoulders, also in twilight, embroidered with stars and moons.

A few eagle riders flew closer to their vessel in curious circles to get a better look at them. Syr Gwynvir waved cheerfully at them, until she got much too excited about the sight of it and ran off to gather the other knights below deck. Selene smiled softly at the dwarf's antics.

Long ago, in the age of Wonders, the Knights of Anathaeum held alliances with the forest tribes, the riverfolk, and the people of stone and sky. Now, there was only a few treaties left alive in the forests - their other neighbors had been cut off from them for so long. Selene let herself feel a certain amount of pride as the wind cut across the bough of their airship, thinking about how many generations stood between her and the last Knight Captain to take this same path.

Helena stepped out from below deck, looking radiant. Keeping her smile, Selene turned to greet her Dawn counterpart. She was glad Helena had opted for a dress. The younger Captain had a few more years yet before she needed to start being so stuffy and formal. Perhaps tonight's merriment would be a good reminder of that.

Another person who needed the occasional reminder, Osuin soon appeared too. She nodded to the both of them, and then trained her gaze back out into the horizon. Any words she said just then would make a poor substitute for the view itself.
Leaning with his back to the guardrail, arms crossed, Syr Faramund of the Dawn tried not to think too much about where he was. From the get-go he had had argued that this was a bad idea. Sky Carriages were old, nearly mythical contraptions, and the knight put no trust in them. Why would he? The ground was his domain, the forests and the streams and, on the odd occasion where duty reared its ugly head, the mountains.

The skies, however, were not his... nor would they ever be, he suspected. Hoped.

Dressed in the ceremonial armour of the Dawn Sanctum, Faramund at least felt some modicum of safety. It would not save him from the fall, he knew. But it could thwart blades and arrows and -apparently- magic. The white-gold plate was renowned for having done so over the millennia, protecting Faramund's predecessors from the most ghastly of deaths.

But Death was a stubborn old goat. Plate or no plate, it found everyone sooner or later.

A strong gust of wind tugged at Faramund's white cloak, and for a moment the big knight was reminded of his own mortality. 'Bloody thing,' he cursed, wrestling the silken folds back into order. Mail clinked as he pushed away from the railing, made to stand next to Selene. Like Faramund, she too wore the armour of her Sanctum. To Faramund's mind, they went well together.

Two knights, one of Dusk, the other of Dawn, bound together by a common goal. Hadn't it always been thus?

'Soon be there,' he pointed out the obvious, spying their destination beyond the clouds. Footsteps made him cast a curious glance over his shoulder. His breath caught as he noticed Helena, dressed to perfection. And Osuin, brave Syr Osuin, cutting quite the figure in clothes that appeared to be brand new.

'I think I'm in love,' the big knight laughed, making room for his two companions to join them.
Like the some of other Knights Of Anatheum, this was Ophelias first time on an air ship or carraige, whatever people decided to call it.

In truth, she was keen to meet her kin. Through out Ophelias life she had head many a story of the majestic sky elves; a people she knew to be dwindeling. The young elf found herself honoured to be en route to the palace something she was certain many elves of the falwood and the majority of her tribe were unable to say they had not only seen, but been inside - invited even.

Ophelia was not certain how long she would be in the sky and the dress she wore was far to restricting for her liking.
Only once they borded had she changed into her outfit for the event, one of the few formal outfits she had actually packed when she had left her home.

Just wearing the damn thing irritated her and it made it hard to breath or even fight. Not like she expected one but you always needed to be prepared - thats alteast how she thought of it.

Though, Ophelia had to give it to herself - she didnt look half bad.
The elf examined her outfit in an old mirror that had been placed in one of the shared rooms on the air carraige and took a moment to take in her apperance. The dress was beautiful, hand sewn by her grandmother it fit her perfectly with the colour representing the forest. Her blonde locks she had some how managed to tame, style and decorate with some jewlery she had also inherited from her mother and kept in that bottomless knapsack she carried everwhere. For the event she was able to enchant it into a small silk purse golden in colour so that she could keep it on her at all times.

With one of her throwing daggers strapped tightly to her theigh Ophelia found herself dressed appropriately for the occasion. Leaving the shared chamber she walked out to the open deck and waited patiently for their arrival.
Gwynnestri flushed at Reynard's compliment. The two had become fast friends as they were in each other's presence nearly every day- his own bedroom was just off her sitting room. As her personal guard, he had given up a lot to protect her.

"You won't look out of place," she reassured him. She walked forward, her gown making a shushing noise against the rug. "Unless you stay this stiff," she teased, poking his leather-clad chest. He took his job very seriously, sometimes too seriously, in Gwynn's opinion. But she could understand his sentiment. The Sky Elves were letting foreigners in for the first time in years, and while most were likely to be excited to see what they saw as myths, others would take advantage and seek to exploit the open arms of the Sky Elves.

From the window in the sitting room, she could see the Avariel fly in overhead. She drifted closer to the window, watching in awe as they flew with some of the eagles. Sunset cast them in an orange glow, making them appear fiery. Not far behind them was a contraption she had never before seen in her life. It looked similar to the ships that sailed the sea, but instead of plowing the waves, it plowed the sky. "Look!" she exclaimed, turning over her shoulder to Reynard.
Reynard couldn't help but smile at seeing the flush in her cheeks. Despite being royalty Gwynn could still sometimes be easy to embarrass. Perhaps it was because of the fact that very few in the whole country spoke with Gwynn on such a friendly and personal matter. It took a while for him to warm up to the idea, and of course he still presented himself in an official manner when others were around but when it was just them he was able to loosen up and be himself. He would even go as far as to say they had become friends.

Reynard never had trouble making friends or anything. He was a friendly and personable guy so getting along with others came quite easily to him. His relationship with Gwynn was different however, for a few reasons. She was the heiress apparent to a nation many people didn't even believe existed and he was her mercenary bodyguard. They were so vastly different and yet got along like they grew up together. It made it easier to be friendly and warm towards her.

The smile didn't leave Reynard's face as he responded to her teasing. "Well if I don't stay stiff it would be just my luck that something goes wrong in the moment I relax. I wont make any promises but I'll try to enjoy myself at least a little bit." he only said that to make her feel better, though he was sure they both knew just how seriously he would take his job tonight. He couldn't allow anyone with bad intentions to get even the briefest opportunity especially when it came to the safety of Gwynn.

He'd let that go for now though, there'd be plenty of time later to stress and worry about every little thing. For now he'd enjoy his time with Gwynn and relax. The time between work was just as important as the work itself, if only to maintain his sanity.

it seemed there was something worth looking at outside the window as Gwynn he beckoned for Reynard to take a look himself. Reynard stood and joined Gwynn's side at the window and took in the incredible sight. A flying ship and people with wings flying through the air in front of it. Reynard had traveled quite a bit in his time as a mercenary but he still had plenty of things left to see. He had never seen a flying ship before but had heard of them in passing. To see one in action was something else entirely. The people with wings were similarly a fresh sight, Reynard having only heard of them in stories as well. "It looks like this ball is going to be even more interesting than I thought. I might just lose count of all the new things I'll see tonight." he said with a chuckle.
Dejan stepped forth from his cabin, nearly hitting his head on the doorway as he did so. The airship was a true marvel but noticeably not designed for a man his size. He suspected that there were a few among the Knight's current retinue who could sympathize. The seasoned fighter steadied himself with his lone arm as the skycarriage rocked slightly. Dejan was not overly comfortable with this particular method of transport, and doubted he ever would be. He was a man of the Wyld, only truly feeling at home with dirt under his feet. Still, the stout wooden hull of the ship reassured the old knight.

Most of the other knights had already arrived by the time Dejan stepped onto the upper-deck. The great-eagles certainly did make for a rather eye-catching escort. Far more impressive than the usual handful of unwilling soldiers. The towers were also similarly momentous, a far cry from some baron's castle. All indications pointed to the ball avoiding the standard banality of such events, and yet Dejan tempered his expectations. The underlying purpose was still the same in the end.

Even knowing all that, some measure of anticipation was impossible to avoid. The importance of the Sky Elves opening their gates was not lost on the Knight Anathaeum; so much so that both sanctum captains were attending. Much to the Pursuant's chagrin.

"I hazard this is hardly the first time Syr," Dejan said in both frustration and jest. Surely an old knight like Dejan was allowed the occasional pettiness. Like Faramund, Dejan had elected to go with his ceremonial armor. However where the standard of the Dawn was white-gold, the Pursuant's armor was hued a mossy green with the accompanying gold accoutrements. Eschewing his usual silks was a deliberate affirmation of his ambitions for this ball. All that remained was to wait for their inevitable arrival.
Azlat was still relatively new to the northern lands, having first ventured beyond her homeland merely two years ago. She’d encountered the Princess at the ball Queen Esmeralda had held in Route, and received word of the ball she planned to hold as an event to establish diplomacy among others and the Sky Elves. Azlat, as a diplomat of Thagretis was keen to attend – but first, she needed to know more of them.

She’d travelled enough to become aware that there were kingdoms that would be less than welcoming to Thagretan guests. Attempting diplomacy with Bhathairk had been an utter disaster, and Azlat would not be so careless in her travel plans this time. Before she’d dare to depart, she’d taken the time to do what research she could of the sky elves, which happened to be rather little. They had been rather isolated, with minimal contact with other kingdoms. There were no accounts of hostile dragons, which reassured Azlat that she’d not likely encounter such conflict here as she had before.

Still, reaching the mountaintop palace remained daunting. It was far from easy to access by land, which was the method of travel that Azlat predominantly relied upon. She had little idea how to make the trip, but she had the gold to afford payment for one who did. It was more than sufficient to charter a wyvern, and it had cost a substantial amount. The keeper she’d made the purchase from wasn’t actually in the business of providing transport, but the staggering amount Azlat had offered was more than enough motivation to temporarily expand her range of services.

The flight was unnerving, but it was quick. Azlat held onto the winged beast, seated upon a saddle and strapped in securely for the flight. The wyvern flew close to the mountain surface, with spires of stone jutting out from a covering of snow that grew thicker the further she flew. Focused on the wyvern she rode and the rocky ground beneath it, Azlat did not see the palace until the creature slowed its flight for a landing, touching down on a wide balcony near the entrance.

It took a fair amount of time to undo all the straps and dismount. Once she had, she began to scan about for wherever she might be able to stable such a creature, but paused when she heard the flap of its wings behind her. Azlat turned around just in time to catch sight of the wyvern taking off again, gliding back down the mountain on its own.

The present problem of where to keep it had been suddenly replaced by the future problem of how to get back down. As it was a matter that could be worried about later, that was exactly how she chose to deal with it. Azlat entered the palace in a flowing gown of red decorated with intricate lace, with jewellery consisting of earrings and an ornate necklace of gold that held bright green emeralds within.
How strange it was to find herself this high up in the sky, wind whipping her cheeks in familiar caresses, and yet no strength of her dragon beneath her. No shushing of mighty wings, or the creaking of her leather saddle and the smell of fresh tanning oil to calm her. Instead, Petra found her hands gripping the polished railings of the upper deck with a death vice. The feeling of magicked metal and sturdy wood beneath her feet should have reassured her, but all it did was make her regret taking the sky carriage. Be damned her hair and her dress and the respectable appearance this mode of travel would reserve.

Granted, she admitted she cut a striking figure in her floor length slitted gown of deep green and gold metal shoulder filigree and chains. The neckline plunging to near her navel where a matching golden belt cinched her waist and kept the gown closed. Her tamed loose curls finished the picture where fell they fell to her chest. Never without the trademark small braids and metal clasps and beads throughout.


But the beauty of her dress didn't stop her from wishing she would have arrived wild and feral, curls instead whipped into a crown made by the winds when she stepped off the back of her dragon companion to greet these sky elves.

But once Helena informed their monarchy that she and Norvyk would be joining the Anathaeum congregation, there were concerns raised and a request that he stay home on behalf of their eagles. But this was a diplomatic event, thus a compromise was met, graciously organized by her Captain, that instead Norvyk would arrive riderless and escorted by their eagles. And he would be on his bestfuckingbehavior or so help her, she would skin him and make him into the world's most uncomfortable and ridiculous throw rug.

A trickle of arrogant amusement floated to her through their bond and it pulled her gaze upward until she spotted her storm dragon above, resplendent in all his emerald glory. The eagles that flew at a cautious distance around him finished the regal picture. The song weaver found herself wondering at the lives of the riders on the great eagles' backs and if they flew as she did.

Their very existence a curiosity to her. She was an elf of the forest and the deep magicks of the Vale. Her people sung homes from trees, great monuments of bark and leaf that scraped the very heavens.

The Eldyr Tree notwithstanding of course.

But she hoped to learn all she could this evening. That included a valiant attempt at making new friends and discovering more of this new culture that she had only heard stories of in her youth amongst the grand halls of Fal-Addas. The thought that it was her fate amongst the Knights that had finally brought her to such a place was surreal in of itself. Yet realizing that she could play a key piece amongst it? It both humbled and inspired her.

A sound to her left broke Petra from her thoughts and she looked over to find Syr Dejan look a tad green around the gills as well. She waved to him politely. Having never really spoken to the man; but everyone in the order greatly respected the one-armed Knight, and she found the presence he naturally commanded was an easy reason as to why.

Her ears picked up the low thrum of budding conversations and familiar voices, and with the intent of distracting herself for the rest of this unsettling voyage, she pushed off from the railing in search of it's source.
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Whispers and rumors were an easy thing to pay no mind while on the road. Travel by carriage, foot, or even boat never seemed dull when everyone had their ears open for new tales.

And their mouths flapping to produce new ones.

One in particular had caught the woman's attentions however. Whispered less in the corners of taverns and far more in the receiving rooms and parlors of the more noble beings that littered the north.

At least what nobility were permitted to amount to in the harsher conditions. Elbion still held a sweet spot in her dark heart if only for that reason.

Magic always had a way of making a room more tolerable.

Bending the elements to ones will while out and about was a far more daunting task than simply adjusting the eternal flames that burned in the fireplaces private studies of the college.

Oh to have a semblance of such luxury while spending her time abroad.

The entourage about her a mingling of merchants and nobles that had no doubt secured their travel as soon as the announcement for this event had been made. Her own presence mostly one of mere chance.

Sitting in the parlor of one unlucky fellow that she had business dealings with in her tenure as a professor.

A merchant that had enjoyed a rather lavish lifestyle having supplied not only her, but many others quietly with the most exotic and unique fauna specimens possible.

A fact she had dangled over his head at his first refusal to allow him her company while traveling.

It wouldn't do for an esteemed man to be found out as a poacher within a new kingdom while negotiations for access where in its infancy.

Departing from the strung along caravan, their ascent to the lofty place without its own challenges. Some of which she even deigned to assist with. A collapse of a rocky peak, a break of one of their carriages. Or whatever that strange contraption had been.

Hauled along by stout beasts of burnen, requiring some interesting diversions that had granted them a few immaculate vista's to spend their night overlooking.

She stood now in a lower receiving area, if such things could exist in a place where the natives took to the air. If nothing more than a cleaned up storage area, she was still glad for it.

If only to be out of the winds that wound themselves along the spires.

Her dress rather simple for what she had been partial to, but finely woven no less as she accepted Sigur's offered hand.

His less than pleased smile only adding to the smug grin that adorned her features. Her silence bought with the most pleasant of offerings for one as transient as herself. While he had hoped to leverage her living situations against her, it had been a fools game without a concern of her family to hang about her neck.

A final tie to a life she had little say in.

Her eyes rose, the lilac color shining a touch as she examined the construction that surrounded her.

So many questions about the place, and the only beings in sight were the ones that had accompanied her presently. The being that had greeted them retreating with haste as they had made their presence and interests known.

"Do be a dear Sigur, and put on your business smile. Your rear molar is still an unsightly thing to behold." Phillipa let her comment sink in as he grumbled and growled to her. The smile never waning as they waited to be escorted into the proper place.
It had only been a short time back when Esmerelda had met the Princesss Gwynnestri at her own ball. With a new friendship and alliance formed she had found it only appropriate to attend this this one.

Esme had decided that her and the three warriors she decided to join her would take the long route via the mountain side on horse back.
On their way there they would pass small encampment of other Routien warriors - who were only occupied by female soldiers, and that was were they would rest for a night or two.

Eventually, Queen Esme and her men; Wesley, Koa and Kizzen would reach the palace, each guiding their own horses to a stable. Then they made their way to the entrace, Esme needed to change out of her armour and tunic which, like her men stank of sweat. She needed to change and the other three needed to oil their leather and dress more appropriatly.

Ophelia wondered around the deck of the vessel her and the rest of the Knights were using to reach the Sky Elves strong hold.
She had not enouncted a familiar face yet and remained oblivious to who she would share a cabin with. All Ophelia knew is they were invited and if her father ever found out ( which he would not but with her luck ...) that she did not seize the oppertunity to attend he would most likely send her brother to hunt her down and skin her alive.
Ophelia rested her forarms on the one of the railings as they got prepared to flew though the clouds.
The eagles escorting their journey was something she was not suprised by. She had learned of them and their relation to her kin whilst still in her early hundreds.

What did catch her off guard though was the dragon flying not far from them. She was ware that it was a to another member of the organization but to who? Ophelia was not certain though she planned on finding out.

Having a filter was one of her renouned weaknesss, thus she turned to the member nearest to her and as always, in a nonchalant tone she asked,
"So who does the flying lizard belong to anyways?"
"Well," Helena said, as she neared those gathered by the railing. "Don't you all just cut such dashing figures?" she couldn't help but say, warm smile across her lips, and bright eyed as she looked at those before her.

"Blue?" she said sharp with bright surprise as she laid eyes on Osuin's finely dressed form, took a moment to admire the cut of the cloth, and the trim lines that draped from his shoulders. She grinned. "Not bad, Syr Osuin," she nod playfully. "You'll be the envy of many a guest, I am sure," she laughed some, warm and sincere.

Syr Faramund said, well, the sort of thing he was want to say. And Helena could not help but blush. Shied away, when the sure footfalls of Syr Dejan sounded beside her. His retort brought a laugh from her once more, and she remembered herself, as well as their reason for being here. She cleared her throat, and moved to the railing, beside her fellow Captain.

Her eyes went wider still.

To see the great tower was, a marvel. Tall and proud as the peaks of the spine itself. It scraped the clouds. And the eagles. How they soared, proud and fierce, with eyes so full of intelligence. Smaller pairs of wings flew too. Painted bright and fiery by those brilliant rays of sun that pierced through the clouds and danced along the crags and stones all around.

"The people of the sky," she said breathless. Wide grin upon her face.

So who does the flying lizard belong to anyways?

Helena laughed, but she kept it hidden behind her hand as eagles screeched, proud and fierce. "I think our escorts are wondering the same thing, Squire Ophelia," the winged creatures stared with their large eyes, as if they dared the dragon to try something. Their riders waved. And Helena, waved in turn, unable to think on decorum.

"We are on approach for the landin!" Lynvir called out from the helm, the ship eased into a turn, wooden hull groaned some as it did its best to follow in to the tower.

Helena just did her best to take it all in.
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Lorinna had always wanted to spend her life attending lavish balls and being doted on by her suitors. That was what might have been expected of her, had a clause in an agreement between her family and the Knights and her annoyingly short brothers led to her taking up arms.

Now, standing on the deck of an airship, trying to look anywhere but down she found that her calves were cold and that she was worrying about removing the stole across her shoulders. When she had last worn a dress she had been a tall, gangly girl, but she didn't have such broad shoulders from swinging swords and hammers and axes for hours on end. She'd fought undead giants and was worried about her new figure in a dress.

"Look!" She said, pointing to the North. "Military drills."

The Sky Elves had become an isolated and militaristic people. Today they just happened to have several flights of Sky Dragoons exercising in the mountains as the visitors arrived. A point to be made.

Pairs of eagles dived at targets that had been propped up on a plataue on the mountains. Arranged to look like blocks of infantry, the Dragoons dove and raked through them with great talons or launched arrows into them.

They had seen the size of the eagles up close too. Looking at that demonstration, she wondered if her armour would even slow one of those talons from punching right through her.

Lorinna looked down, felt her legs go weak again and turned quite sharply away from the railing. She couldn't even imagine the height of the tower, had never seen any building like it. Not to mention how high they already were in the mountains.

What did armour matter, when the Eagle could simply drop her from such a height?
The Rohk, great eagles of the spine, were fully sentient creatures. They understood elven perfectly well. Whether they listened to anything they were told was another matter. Their motivations were their own.

Their own language however, was not understood by the elves. There was tone and body language. And then there was one cry that was always understood.

The cry of alarm at something larger than a Rohk in the sky.

The dragon had been escorted by eagles high over. The best place to be to a dragon was above it. It gave them more speed, a better angle of attack.

An entire eyrie platform had been dedicated to the dragon, but the alarm was still sounded by all the grounded eagles.

Don't worry the dragon is friendly, was not something they acknowledged, even if they knew the words.

"The fuck is that?" Fynaurie muttered.

"Shh!" went another Flight Leader.

They were lined up on the corridor between the eyrie and the main hall.

"Someone said a dragon was coming."

"I saw a dragon once."

"Shhhhhh! The delegation is landing."
Hector had gotten ready rather promptly. A brick red doublet, with iron black brocade of wild flowers. The loose sleeves a muted flaxen gold. The buttons, though, those were his favorite part. Each had a little motif of Flame upon their bright brass surface. And they caught the light just right. Black trousers and fine black boots finished his ensemble. A forest green shoulder cape to help against the wind chill.

He stood by Lorinna, his lower back leaned against the railing. His stick of coal busy moving and twiddling as he scribbled about in his journal, which, he had only just figured out how to keep from snapping and blowing in the wind.

There was a likeness of Lorinna rendered across the page. The delicate line of her neck, the strong curve of her shoulders, quickly placed down with confident lines, a bit shaky from the rumble of the ship. Her big wide eyes though, those were drawn with care. The way the light hit them as she stared out at the world behind him, captured with little touches of his drawing tool.

A quick scrape across the parchment put the opposite railing behind her for depth. A profile of Syr Dejan, and the side of Osuin's head were quickly scribbled on, and looked close enough. And the rough shape of a distant eagle and rider further on the horizon.

Look she said, and pointed out. He got up and turned to see the eagles in flight. Their wings flaring, and their riders snapping with action.

"Woah," he said, wide eyed as they zipped by targets and performed deft maneuvers. He looked down at his journal, and ducked down a minute to get out of the wind-blast. Adjusted the straps he'd tied down, and turned to a new piece of parchment, careful to tuck the last piece away in a safe spot. "Think we'll get to ride one?" he asked with excitement.

Lori's feet pointed away from the rail, and he looked up at her. Saw a hint of worry in her eye. "You alright?" he asked, and popped up. Warm smile on his face as all the ship rumbled. "Cold?" he asked, and got a little closer. "Can give you my cape if you'd like?"
'Soon be there,' Faramund said as he came to stand next to Selene. She looked to him in his trailing white cloak. For a gleaming moment he looked every part a noble knight of Dawn, and then the wind betrayed him, tangling him in sleek fabric.

"We will see how soon," Selene responded through a chuckle. "I'm led to believe that landing is rather more difficult than setting off."

As more knights gathered on deck, Syr Gwynvir and her cousin Lynvir hurried around the ship. Lynvir went to the wheel and began to reel their vessel round, taking everyone in a wide, and not entirely smooth, arc. Gwynvir loosened ropes and tightened others, shifting the landscape of windsails above their heads. They circled closer to one of the landing docks that jutted out from the eyrie tower.

The landing was approaching alarmingly fast.

A bump rattled across the airship. Selene stumbled into Faramund next to her, their armor plate knocking together as she gripped his arm for balance. She uttered an apology as she righted herself.

"Argh! We've got to slow this beast down!" Lynvir called out from the helm.

"Aye!" Gwynvir agreed. She was tugging something fierce on a length of rope, struggling against the wind that pulled on a sail high above. "Alright, knights!" She pointed at another tension of ropes. "All hands on deck now, let's not embarrass ourselves in front of our new friends!"

The two dwarves began shouting orders as the airship shuddered against the wind, directing the knights to help tie off a rigging here or turn a crank there. And haphazardly, they began to approach the great eyrie.
The person nearest to Ophelia had turned out to be one of her Captians.


In general, what she lacked in formal decorum she still knew her rank and place in the world. The elf was not yet complety certain how the Knights delt with the high ranking officers but in her clan, you did not speak unless spoken to when it came to a position higher then your own.

Turning to face Helena, Ophelia only offered her a solem nod and trying to subtly - though failing - tug on at the material clinging to her hips.

"Who does it accompany Captain?" Though she felt rather sheepish now, her voice remained strong and sturdy.

"I've not seen a dwarven airship for a few centuries," Caliane glanced up towards her father as his eyes lingered on the contraption coming in to 'land'. As the Commander of the Avariel great armies, and now Elder of the Warrior class amongst the Avariel people, those ships had once been a common sight for Nevarth Ruinë when the dwarves had been their greatest enemy. From what little she knew of them now they were little more than relics from that time; a sign of just how long time had passed since the Avariel's touched the world. Her mother placed a hand on his arm snapping him from his memories and with a smile guided him on. Unlike her, both Elders had visited this tower before to keep their old alliance strong even as they remained distant from the world. A greying elf with a golden circlet stepped forward to greet them both as warmly as any friend would and Caliane used the chance to slip away.

"Thank you," she murmured as a server offered her a tray of thin flute glasses and took one before continuing on her sweep of the large room.
'Wish someone had told me that before we set off,' Faramund replied, his cocksure smile fading in the time it took the others to gather. The big knight was a brave man, but the prospect of a "rough landing" had him questioning his life choices somewhat. 'Hope Gwyn and Lyn know what they're doing,' he continued, softly enough that the two dwarves wouldn't hear him.

Glancing at the helm, Faramund gave Syr Lynvir a quick wave. The dwarf saluted, shouted something. The distance was great, however, and her accent was too thick for him to make much sense of her words. But what he did hear left him wishing he was elsewhere.

Fortunately, Syr Dejan came to the rescue before the knight could decide to throw himself overboard. Grinning, Faramund spared the tall, one-armed warrior a look. 'Every other weekend, telling the truth,' he admitted in what he hoped everyone would see as jest. 'Can you blame me?' Turning, he nodded to Helena, a small smile crooking the corner of his mouth.

Given how many beautiful women the Order seemed to possess, it was a wonder their recruitment numbers were so low.

Nobody likes venturing out into the sticks, Faramund ventured, spying a half dozen others arriving on deck. Squires Hector and Lorinna and Ophelia, all dressed to impress. Fara wondered just how they had managed that, considering squires didn't get paid? A mystery for another time.

The sails billowed suddenly, sending a ripple through the ship.

Planting his feet on the rolling deck, Faramund did his best to steady the Dusk Captain. The two 'Virs were calling for assistance, and Faramund moved off to do just that, securing lines and pulling on things Gwynvir insisted needed pulling. Before long, the knights had managed to wrestle the Sky Carriage into submission.

Lynvir called out from her spot by the wheel as they descended towards the landing platform. Following her cousin's gaze, Gwynvir paced her way across the ship to the foremost point of the bow. From her observation point, she could see clearly the platform as it grew in size. On it, an honour guard had formed, their armour shined to perfection and their eagles...

Well, their eagles were less shiny. But by Thunder weren't they magnificent!

'Ease 'er in, now!' Gwynvir bellowed, gesturing backwards with a meaty hand. 'Steady now! Keep 'er straight and true!'

Slowly, ever so slowly, the ship brushed down on the landing platform. Faramund felt the deck beneath his feet jolt as a loud crack reverberated through the ship. Then, just like that, they were down. Letting out a sigh of relief, the dawnling pulled the gangplank free of it's moorings and, with Gwynvir's guidance, slid it into position.

Brushing his hands together, he turned to regard his comrades, a wide smile on his face.

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