Dreadlords Keeping the Peace

[Leoric Falstaff]

Falstaff!

Yes, Proctor Bedrik?

The rebels laying to the east, the Al Elzba Settlement. You're to attend a Parley scheduled for tomorrow evening. Peace Talks.

Assist with the wounded, should things become distasteful. We will deal with them one way or another.

Yes, Proctor Bedrik.

---

Fucking sand in my shoes...

He had made preparations early in the day. After the Republic had formed, many rogue towns and settlements sought to fill and burden the power vacuum that existed before things could be put into order once more. The Al Elzba were a town not long established, comprised of wronged-nobles and rogue sorcerers. They had begun to rob travelling salesmen and supply caches on their way to Vel Anir, inevitably leading to the guard getting involved. The conflicts that ensued were few but brutal, costing some low level Lords sent to extinguish their insolence.

He made sure to pack bandages, potions and poultices. Although he had no intention of causing a conflict, he knew he'd be a fool if he went there thinking that it'd all be peaches and cream. Almost every single mission he'd attended had either gone relatively smoothly, or horrifically wrong, and he had no intention of being caught by a stray arrow, or having his entire head engulfed in flames. No sir.

It was a relatively short ride to the Settlement, but his instructions were to rendezvous at an encampment just 5 minutes from the town, where some Dreadlords had been instructed to supply in case of conflict. He was hoping the Guard had selected some prestigious individuals for this mission; he'd heard rumours of a powerful sorcerer from Alliria had decided to lay his claim there, being the primary reason so many had perished in trying to stop their robbing. From the bodies that had returned back, their heads were swollen and misshapen, taut and twisted by some dark, unwieldy magic. It was not a pretty sight, and he certainly didn't like to linger on the thought of him lying on a cold, stone table, another casualty in some petty dispute.

As he approached the camp, you could see the tower that peered over the settlement. A tall, foreboding structure, without ornament or colour, but gothic and jagged, built entirely out of sandstone. You could almost admire the simple nature of it, if it wasn't for the scum that resided there. Hard as he try, he could not see why they had to provoke Vel Anir in such a bold way.

The camp was small, with maybe a half-dozen or more Dreadlords quietly discussing over plans splayed out over large parchment. A small wooden shelter on 4 posts, enough to protect from the sun. Knowing his place, he shifted his bag off his shoulders, laying it on down. He pulled out a book titled 'Weather Sorceries: The Tempestarii', sat on the carpet laying on the floor, and began to quietly carry on from where he'd left off.

---

OOC: Sup dudes. Sorry, not used to writing an open post for a non-private thread. Once people are settled and talk some lore and whatever, a higher level dreadlord can give the word, and i'll write a post about us walking into the main town, and then we can go from there. Cheers!
- Freddie

 

[Olem]

Olem stood as one of those prestigious individuals standing around the map. Under one arm was tucked his massive zweihander, his weight loosely supported by the blade. A long sigh echoed in his helmet as he listened to the plan of attack.

Or defense in this case.

It was a standard thing. Making a perimeter, conducting patrols. They were to look for the Sorcerer on a loose basis, but the bigger threat was a rebel double cross. As always they would have to expect anything and everything.

But that was no different than any other day.

"Olem"​

His head snapped up almost immediately, armor clinking ever so slightly. "Yes sir?"

"Take two or three others. You have the first patrol.​

Olem ducked his head in a quick nod, then turned his head to see if anyone around them would volunteer. If not, he'd have to grab someone out of the crowd.

 

[Cassius Amore]

Cassius had been here for hours listening to the proctors drone on about the plan a million times. He’d done a hundred of these and so had they. If they stuck to the routine then it would go fine. Yet, stronger Dreadlords then he insisted on having the last word in these discussions. Cassius made sure to stay out of these sorts of conversations unless asked, which he rarely ever was.

No, unfortunately, Cassius was useful in these scenarios and so it stole him away from his reading and writing. It was nice to get out. He enjoyed a lot of the people that were here, too. He’d had lunch with at least half of them and had no complaints about any. It was just that these debates became tedious dick-swinging contests and everyone began to overthink when it always ended smoothly if they just stuck to the routine.

Hells, he’d seen some proctors read it off a parchment before. Went totally fine. Sometimes the situations got dire but most people weren’t stupid enough to try and take on a camp of dreadlords.

Most.

Cassius was wandering the camp, throwing and catching a half eaten apple he‘d been taking his sweet time with. It was turning a caramel color from his aversion and was getting wetter every time he caught it. He noticed a new arrival sitting down and pulling out a book. A book he’d actually read before! With newfound interest, Cassius moseyed over to the man as he continued to play with his ever softening apple.

“Have you read any other stuff by Derlich?” He’d ask Leoric, then take a small bite from his dying fruit.

Leoric Falstaff

 

[Leoric Falstaff]

"...earliest examples of Tempestarii, or Weather-workers in Arethillian, originated from Teth and Eagle-head island. In fact, the Teth people are some of the first to control the tide and wind, quickening their sail-boats and creating a prosperous island nation. Unfortunately, many of these ancient skills and craft are written in languages yet to be translated or understood. In the next chapter, we shall discuss Teth Runes, and what we know so far about it in terms of symbology."

Huh...

As he went to turn the next page, he was prompted by another Dreadlord standing above him. Short and slender, with a mess of brown hair, eating his way through a browning apple.

"Oh! I've read his study on Pyromancy. It was rather interesting actually. I asked the Proctors whether we could get the Elbion Tome on order, but they aren't allowing any copies. I actually rather enjoyed-" He stopped himself. I am going on a bit.

"Sorry, I'm Falstaff. You are?" He asked, politely. He would enjoy the company of someone who appreciated the classics.

"Take two or three others. You have the first patrol.​

Olem ducked his head in a quick nod, then turned his head to see if anyone around them would volunteer.

He immediately noticed Olem, hard to miss him whilst sheathed in armour. An incredibly strong, demanding presence. It would be an honour to serve a Knight, and Leoric thought it foolish of him not to offer himself up, powerful or not powerful.

"May I attend, Sir Olem?" He asked, raising his hand with reverance.

Cassius Amore Olem

 

[Olem]

Olem's head turned almost immediately as someone finally spoke up.

A swell of gratitude briefly flickered in his chest. Though the Dreadlords were now all part of the Guard, and though their ranks within the army mattered more than those distinctions of their own order...such things did not always settle well.

For many of the Dreadlords in this encampment, the rank of Fourth through First still mattered. He was a Knight, but only a Fourth level Dreadlord. For some, the distinction mattered more. "Of course!"

The Knight said as he stepped away from the others, moving towards the man who had volunteered. Other Dreadlords looked at the trio, some shaking their heads in disgust while others simply ignored them as though they had already disappeared.

"Will you come as well?" Olem asked Cassius as he stepped up to the two.

 

[Cassius Amore]

A faint grin appeared on Cassius's face as the man spoke. They had something in common this early on in conversation? That never happened! Leoric's enthusiasm was something that he wished he could have. He could rob the man of it, but that would be cruel, wouldn't it? He didn't like the feeling of being cruel.

"Please, do not apologize. I myself dove into his bestiary and books on the people of Arethil, there a lot of extinct races that I hadn't known about before. He was a driven writer. I'm Cassius."

He made no move to shake the man's hand for his own reasons.

"A shame it's been this long before we were acquainted."

--

As Olem approached, Cassius slowly turned his head to see who was speaking to them. He actually recognized the suit of armor he wore. It had been attributed to the man in many conversations about other fourth levels.

"You are Olem, correct?" He asked, holding his withering smile as long as he could.

"I was taught by Atticus when I was training for combat. He spoke very highly of you."

Cassius looked behind him and remembered he'd set his armaments down when he'd first arrived.

"I'd love to join the two of you. Allow me to procure my things first?'

Olem Leoric Falstaff

 

[Leoric Falstaff]

It was a pleasure to meet someone who was well-read. Inside the walls of the Academy, it wasn't often students, and more-so Dreadlords, educated themselves outside of information that directly influenced their power, status or specialisation. A lot of what Derlich wrote was not especially useful, or sometimes even interesting, but it served the mind well.

"A shame it's been this long before we were acquainted."

It was. It had been a decent amount of time since Falstaff had been spoken to with respect. Although, the neutral nature of Cassius was standoffish. Was he simply being polite? Within the walls of Vel Anir, you could never tell if a Dreadlord was telling you the truth, or leading you into deceit. The rule stood true outside of it too. Especially with fourth level Dreadlords, seeking any way to climb up the social rung.

He smiled politely, and nodded his head.

As Olem enthusiastically accepted Falstaff, and Cassius decided to join, you could feel perceived disgust emit from the other guard and Dreadlords in the camp. Being a fourth level was often a burden, and many would rather run from Vel Anir than accept the position of being lower - less than their brethren.

Allow me to procure my things first?'

"Of course. Sir Olem, I am prepared to assist in any way I can." Falstaff had great respect for the Guard. There, experience and track-record mattered more than blood or talent. He respected a knight of the realm. It didn't hurt that it allowed him to do something other than watch, and maybe heal the occasional injury.

Cassius Amore Olem

 

[Olem]

Olem nodded his head "Atticus was a good man."

A solemn expression flickered over his face behind the helmet. Atticus had been a Proctor, one of the few that had actually wanted to teach. One of the few who hadn't doled out pointless punishments. A man of honor when there had been few.

The Academy was like that.

"Of course, grab whatever you need." He gestured towards the northern path winding away from sanctuary. "We'll meet up there."

Olem found himself pleasantly surprised by the two Dreadlords. Most of their Order that her worked with tended to be a bit more...gruff. Even those who could count themselves as honorable usually had a...spiky side. One that neither of his new companions seemed to carry.

Something he was glad for.

 

[Cassius Amore]

Cassius would offer a shallow bow to the both of them.

"Thank you for your patience. I will be quick."

With that he'd turn on his heels and head to the small area he'd been camped out at when he first arrived. There had been a few fourth and third levels that had set up around him, though not many had words for him. Dreadlords of higher rank never seemed to have any issue talking to him, but when fourths or thirds heard who he was and about The Split Incident, they often avoided conversation.

This was no different when he returned. Cassius was used to the eyes. He'd always gotten them. His parents were terrified of him, and it was a simple fact that most found what he could do intrusive. He'd learned to keep his hands to himself very early on.

His campmates either gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement or nothing at all while he grabbed his bow. A quiver nearly full. It looked like just one was missing, giving him twenty. He'd thought he'd brought a full quiver, though. Maybe someone had taken one. That was fine.

Cassius was turning to rejoin Olem and Leoric but was stopped by a second level who was waving him over to the table where the higher ups were planning how the meeting would go.

He obeyed, wandering over to the second level. He name was Irelia, right? He couldn't remember the pronunciation of it. Best to keep it behind his tongue.

"We're going to have you up front with us during the meeting."

That was... Unexpected.

"What for?"

"Truth is, we think the rebels are staging this for something else. We don't know if it's a counterattack. We doubt that, seeing as our numbers would make mincemeat of them."

A few other members at the table chuckled at the idea. It was clear no one was worried that would happen.

"But they may be trying to get intel, or even potentially infiltrate. We want you to shake hands to end the deal. That way, we'll know what they were feeling during the parley."

"As you wish. I was about to head out on patrol with Olem, since he has it first it seems. When will I be needed?"

"It shouldn't be for a while, you're good to do patrol. Keep your eyes open."

Cassius nodded and head back towards Olem and Leoric with his weaponry. His faint smile returned as he was finally away from all the bureaucratic nonsense.

"I have to be back here to be a part of the deliberations, it seems. But I am greenlit to patrol with you two."

Olem - Leoric Falstaff ​

 

[Leoric Falstaff]

We'll meet up there.

"Alright." Falstaff went back to where he'd sat his bag down. Even with his staff, he wouldn't go without his arming sword strapped to the side of the bag, nor the survival essentials he kept within it. He'd heard from his time in the Academy, that many a Dreadlord would go chasing after Ragash raiders deep within the desert, only to find themselves dying of dehydration. Even if all Leoric could do was survive, he'd make sure of it.

"Haven't seen you out of the Academy before, Leo" Falstaff turned and saw Jorn Stappen, a young Third Level Dreadlord, fresh out of Vel Anir. He'd been privy to his lessons many times.

"Yes. Well... the Proctors asked me to attend the parlay."

"To do what?"

"Oh, well they didn't specify-"

"So why are you here?"

"Sorry- I was just asked."

"They know a lost cause Leo. If this goes wrong and you're in the line of fire. You're fucked."

Falstaff paused.

"Okay. See you, Stappen."

He began to walk away with his bag, towards the path to begin their patrol.

Bastard.

"I'm ready, Sir Olem." He said to the cladded knight. Looking at his armour, he wondered at the things it had seen; the blood that had been spilled and washed off of it. The tales it could tell. He quickly put the thought out of his head, to not dwell on it.

"I have to be back here to be a part of the deliberations, it seems. But I am greenlit to patrol with you two."

"Oh- part of the deliberations? Good with politics, then." He gave a half-hearted smile. He turned to Olem, staff in hand, ready to travel.

Cassius Amore Olem

 

[Olem]

Olem stood waiting at the crossroads. A sword the size of a man was slung over his back, and a pack which seemed filled only with the bare necessities resting besides that. Patrols tended not to take too long, but he'd long learned to expect the unexpected.

"Wondrous." Olem declared as Cassius spoke of being invited to the deliberations. "A mark of the progress we've made under the Republic."

He seemed rather chipper at the point.

A year ago, before the revolution, they all would have been sequestered and stuck away in some sort of tent. Expected to heal or provide service in some form. Now that the Republic was in charge? Things were getting day by day.

So it seemed at least to him. "We'll have you back in time, Sir Cassius. No worries about that."

He gestured up the road.

"For now lets focus on the task at hand." The forest was fraught with the unknown to all of them, but he suspected they wouldn't find much. Without waiting for an answer Olem turned, stalking off towards the forest and whatever mysteries lay within.

 

[Cassius Amore]

Olem was a fun man. He doubted the knight even held that as his intention, but he wished he could see it through Cassius’ eyes. The man was stalwart and aimed to do a good job and that seemed to be the bulk of his personality. He wasn’t cruel, or overtly kind. He just sort of was.

Through the torture of initiation as well as the hell they put you through, it’s often that one would see a sway into either side. Olem seemed to just keep his head about him. It was impressive, his simplicity.

This was of course an assumption based on one single interaction, but hey. At least it was a somewhat pleasant one.

—

As they walked, he kept himself paced with Leoric.

”Per your question, sort of. I’m utilized as a cheap model of a mind reader.”

His caught a bird flying over head. Too far to determine the species but he watched it nonetheless.

“There are those that despise us. Opinions on the matter aside, it is fact that some people who do these treaties will have ulterior motivations. As true mind reading is a rare and volatile skill that can sometime destroy the user, I’m the next best thing. I can know what they’ll be feeling, if betrayal is in their heart, if I am able to get skin to skin contact. So I am to shake their hand.”