Private Tales Mats Mats Mats

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Character Biography
“Can’t make any promises, but give me a few days. I owe ye that much.”

The Knight Anathaeum nodded his appreciation, genuinely happy to hear anything that was not an outright rejection. He knew from Rulgak’s description and his own experience that there was little chance that the material they required would be readily available. The old knight had made many acquaintances over the years, blacksmiths and merchants among them. He had thus maintained some small hope that they would not need to collect the material personally. It was looking increasingly likely that this would not be the case.

Truth was that the knight-pursuant was tired, exhausted to be precise. He had intended to remain in the Vale for some time after the harrowing ordeal with the Everwatcher’s cult. Instead Dejan was on the road again less than two weeks later.

Dejan was anxious. There was an unease which seemed to hound his every waking thought. He could not recall when he last found himself in such a state. It would be simple to say he was getting paranoid with age but he did not think that the case. Better to see to this matter quickly in any case.

"Seems we must find ourselves some lodging," remarked Dejan to the other pursuant. The day's light had not yet completely faded but there was little else to do but wait. "I believe you are more familiar with this place than I, Syr Dorn," added the knight after a few moments. Dejan had only visited Almark once before and it had grown significantly since then. The town was nestled not far from where the Sayve met the Bystra which made it a stop for many travelers and merchants. There would be no shortage of accommodations for the two to choose from but he suspected his brother already had a place in mind.
The road, it was always a nice release from the recent hell that had become the classroom. Well, it wasn't that bad. The squires suffered more than he did. And their suffering lifted his spirits.

To be on the road with Dejan? Rare. Priceless. A fellow older warrior to aire the grievances of the youth with. Almark lie ahead, and it had become a common stop for Dorn. One, that he had known very well.

Seems we must find ourselves some lodging, I believe you are more familiar with this place than I, Syr Dorn.

A wiley grin crossed his features. "We need to pay a visit to the Rapid Gull. Get some refreshments then lay our heads down at the Silver Lion." He hoped they wouldn't visit the Eastern half of the city, he had some bastards there he wished to avoid.

Dejan Damir
Dejan raised a brow at the other knight's grin, wondering what exactly he had in mind. There were more than a few tales about Syr Dorn, legends might be a more apt description. The pursuant of Wyld could attest to some of the stories but there were still far more to which he had not been privy. Dejan supposed it was only natural considering how long the older knight had been with the Order. There were a few anecdotes about Dejan himself though most had been exaggerated. He always got the sense that the same could not be said for his comrade.

"Refreshments," echoed Dejan sarcastically, he was certain that the man was not talking about milk. The knight could certainly do with something stronger, especially considering the last few weeks. He motioned for Syr Dorn to lead the way and the two set off towards the Rapid Gull.

The town itself was still bustling but the two aged knights still made for a rather imposing sight. Most simply skirted to the side of the street as the duo passed.

"It has been some time since we last ventured together," commented the knight. Of course, that was to be expected. It was rare for a mission to require one pursuant, let alone two. Dejan's efforts in recent years had also been more politically focused; mostly in an attempt to acquire funds and resources for the Order. It certainly wasn't the most glamorous duty but was undoubtedly necessary. "I know you've taken to training the squires. What is your assessment of our current batch?"

Syr Dorn
One of the most popular tales of the old battlemaster was that he was so filled with spite, that death herself didn't want him. It was for the most part, true, but to the young who had come long after such an event, it was an impossibility. His gaze swept over to Dejan and he remembered when his friend was injured, to a weaker knight it would have been crippling. To Dejan, all it did was harden him. It was a price any should be willing to pay for the Order, their Order.

Dorn would take the lead at Dejan's gesturing, his courser paving its way through the streets. The common man parted as the duo of Knights made their way down the center of the road.

It has been some time since we last ventured together, I know you've taken to training the squires. What is your assessment of our current batch?

Dorn slowed his courser to clop along beside Dejan. "It really has been some time. Seems the Masters and Selene have long memories." A laugh with a bit of side eye. "They must have been upset for sometime after Rockhollow." If you knew, you knew, and they both knew. "As for their promise? My first lesson was them building caskets. Some are too old and don't have the longevity required, too set in their ways. Some are too soft, they won't survive the hardships. Some, live for only themselves and lack the dedication to the Order, to something more. I'm not impressed, though a small handful might make decent Knights, the rest won't."

Dejan Damir
The knight let the ghost of a grin touch his face at the mention of Rockhollow. A name from the past, loaded with memories. He decided it was best to leave it where it was. A shared legend between two of the Order's oldest. Dejan would have flinched at Dorn's words if he didn't know the man so well. Hard words that would cause most to balk. The knight of Wyld knew that his comrade's harsh method of training was meant to ensure the trainees survival. This was not an easy world and the Anathaeum took on even heavier burden.

"Well, let us hope those caskets won't be needed for some time," Dejan said with a grunt. "I'm sure you will get them through it." The truth was that the Order could use every hand they could get. Still, there were certain standards that had to be maintained. This was not for the Knight's reputation but ensuring that they would be able to survive everything that was to come.

"There is one whom I believe may be worth keeping an eye on. Her wit will serve her well though admittedly her skill with a blade is still lacking for now," the pursuant explained, though didn't say any more on the matter. Dejan knew that the older knight possessed a deep cynicism but the man worked relentlessly for the betterment of the Order. Hard words could not hide the presence of hope, no matter how deep it was buried.

Syr Dorn
Their coursers continued down the busy street, Dorn's focus on his companion as they rode, it seemed as if both Knight and steed had known the way by heart. At Dejans remark about the caskets, Dorn would grunt in affirmation. "Tis always the hope. Isn't always the case, however." His look bore the memory of the lost class. A class of squires wiped out by a single, dark evil. Memory of it lived only in the hearts and minds of those old enough to recall, for all record had been stricken.

There is one whom I believe may be worth keeping an eye on. Her wit will serve her well though admittedly her skill with a blade is still lacking for now.

"Oh, really? Pray tell the lasses name." Squires of note, to Dejan, meant they would have promise to Dorn as well. "She can always aid Brother Gylbert or Ashton in the library, if she can't master the blade. Or.. play a support role. Have you tried a different weapon? Some just can't learn the sword. Fillack gave me the axe, when I struggled with the sword. In time, I picked the sword back up."

Dejan Damir
Dejan nearly chuckled at his companion's sudden interest. The battlemaster's harsh demeanor could not hide his concern for the Order's younger generation. No doubt this particular quality was why he was entrusted with training the squires. "Her name is Innis." He considered the other knight's suggestions for a moment further before continuing. "Some time with the scrolls may not be a bad idea, though wonder if she will agree."

A new weapon was not something he had considered. "I think it is merely a matter of foundations at this juncture. Though my intuition tells me she will favor smaller blades in the future." Nothing was set in stone at this point and he knew that Syr Dorn was well aware of that. "Her skills are certainly more suited towards Dusk but I believe she has potential in diplomacy as well."

He knew that being a member of one sanctum did not exclude one from certain duties but it was on the rarer side. Those were thoughts for a later time however as the squire still had yet to take the Oath. All things would find their place in due course.

"There must be at least one whom has caught your eye? If not among the squires, than the recently Sworn?"

Syr Dorn
Her name is Innis.

"Ah yes, Innis. I've heard good things, can't say I've seen them yet," He would pause to take a sip from his waterskin. "Yet to teach a class she was in." He would clarify, before laughing at the next statement. "She doesn't need to agree, Dej. She's a squire. If she wishes to remain one or move forward, she will do as instructed."

His horse slowed as they rounded the next bend of the cobbled road, the last turn before they could finally be free of their steeds. "Foundations are important." He mused, his eyes scanning the balconies above them. "If you think she will favor the short blades, switch it up on her. Or, I can arrange for that training that way it doesn't impede on your current.. favor with her."

"Wouldn't be the first Dusk diplomat, won't be the last. But if any can gift her a silver tongue, its you, my friend."
There would be another length of silence until the other knight spoke up again.

There must be at least one whom has caught your eye? If not among the squires, than the recently Sworn?

"Hope that Pollocks finds his will. He may be better served joining Brother Gylbert." Dorn said with a grunt as he pulled up on the reins, stopping his horse, and looking up at the sign above. "Ah, the Rapid Gull.." he would rise with some effort in the saddle and swing a leg out, before doing a full dismount. "I suppose young Hector and Roki show promise. Arkobold is afraid of his own shadow. Anitra, Luiaaran, or Rina.. Kenric and Dakadeen could be good, too. Kurdan is definitely ready for his trials."

Dejan Damir