Dreadlords Once Dark and Ancient Times

Threads open to all members of the Dreadlords group

Hayes

Dreadlords
A storm would roll in through this seaside city in what looked to be two days time, but as Hayes stood on the parapet and looked to the thrashing waves below, she knew the storm would not ruin this momentous night. Not when the little magic that treacled down the line of the Dorfarens, the founding family to Redynne, were able to track the weather. Hayes had it on good authority that tonight would feature a different storm.

Every year since Vel Anir was victorious in war, Redynne had thrown a gala of the arts for all to rejoice in. It became tradition, and through rain or shine, the gala would continue. It was a small city that knew how to be resilient, to embrace change and utilise opportunities when presented. Tonight, the air was crisp but warm enough with the fires burning through the streets that the gala was to be enjoyed in different parts of the city broken up with canals. Hayes' older brother, Breyer, was a skilled Sealing Smith and was the strongest mage in some generations he was lucky enough to be educated at the Academy. It was under his seals that the city retained the warmth in the areas that dancing and merriment would take place, and those that wished to see the sights could enjoy a comfortable evening without the chill that came with the winds of the Cortosi Sea.






The first sector was dedicated to the theatrical arts and held in the Anir Open Theatre. In the summertime, many plays and operas were put on here as the sun dipped in the late hours, but in the autumn and winter, it became a place for the night markets. Tonight, locals to the city were masked in old traditional stylings and putting on a show. It told the story of a Dreadlord legend, one of victory and inspiration. It was a marvel for those to watch, a light entertainment for visitors to enjoy.

The night market still was operating, selling souvenirs, small and delectable treats, and wares of artisans that called Redynne home.



The second sector of festivities were held in the Courtyard Ruins. A section of the city that had been devastated in the last War was now made preserved thanks to the Sealing Smiths native to Vel Redynne. It was truly the most ethereal and whimsical space made ready for this night. Surrounded by canals on all fronts, many choose to visit these ruins for the scenic route along the water to get here, and tonight special made bridges connected visitors from the main areas of the city center to these famed gardens of tranquility.

Here visitors could take in a moment of quiet as musicians are found spread across the ruins and playing pieces in accompaniment, melodies sweeping all over. It is the more peaceful side of the festivities and popular with couples to promenade.

The ruins also has guides from the Museum present to recount the stories of this most historic landmark in the city. Many sculptures line the main stretch, and is the most preserved area on the small isle, and each with their own story.

At the far end, and seen throughout the ruins no matter where one stood, you could see the sculpture done in the likeness of a past Anirian King, who was famous for living in Redynne all through boyhood to learn the ancient histories and was the one to bestow the title of being a Vel city for their hospitality.





Screenshot 2024-10-01 at 18-48-52 Oliver Beck (@oliverbeck_art) • Instagram photos and videos.png
Lastly, the third sector for the gala event was to take place in the Historic Square.

It was here the main event was hosted, where the traditional practice of dancing and masks attracted a great number of visitors. It also was fierce competition for Anirians to dress to impress, for it was encouraged to leave your identity outside and become a citizen of Vel Redynne this one night. Those that called this city their home were known for their laid back lifestyle and their eagerness to meet new people.

It was in this square a number of sightseeing could be done, with the large Vel Redynne Museum of History towering above, but was also one of the most beautiful preserved buildings of the original architecture in the early days of Redynne's existence.



 
Vittoria detested the feel of a mask on her face, and for an occasion such as this, she was unsure of it's representation. Never had she dreamed to be anyone but herself, but a mission had taken a great number of Initiates towards the West. The fact that they were even allowed to travel the three days to attend this famous celebration had been surprising, but Vittoria had reasons of her own to bear the idea of wearing a mask and attend.

Her parents had met at this annual celebration almost three decades earlier. He had been stationed here as a Dreadlord, and her mother was a Pirian notable that loved traveling all this way to attend each year. She only had stories told by her father of her mother, but there was a portrait of her in the Museum gallery halls she wished to see. A mother she never knew, never met, for it had been her own birth that killed her.

Not only was this city a historical one for Vel Anir's territories, but it was one important to the Larrainth family. On this night she would finally attend as Lady Larrainth, the only member left of her bloodline. She donned an elegant deep emerald dress with black gloves atretched above her elbows, and leather boots that were certainly for fashion than for walking in. It was the best she could do for family representation with the dressmakers available in this city, but Vittoria was pleased with how she looked.

She waited outside the barracks reserved for Anirian Guards, where the Initiates were told to stay since most lodgings had been booked by other visitors. Her eyes scanned for King, not wishing to explore this city without a friendly face.
 
"Jeez, aren't you a fancy fuck. That's got to be you right Larrainth?" She was the only one that would be that well-dressed outside the barracks...or someone was way better at flirting than he realized as they had not been in the city for long.

Orryn came walking out of the barracks trying to adjust his uniform the best he could. It was the only nice thing he really owned at the moment, so he had chosen to wear it although it did kind of defeat the purpose of leaving your identity behind. What did he care though? That bullshit was a lot easier when you had money.

He at least was wearing a mask, one half featured a smiling human while the other half was a grimacing, wolf-like monster.

The uniform fit him well, but he had already undone the top two buttons on his jacket. It was always the jacket that felt too restricting and yet it was the biggest identifier for the uniform. Orryn pulled at the collar one last time before walking over.

"Can't turn down a chance to get a little fucked up right?"

Vittoria Larrainth
 
Tarkas Verik.

The unkillable.

The stalwart soldier of Vel Anir.

Dreadlord-slayer.

Dreadlord-server.

And tonight-

Spiffy.

He was dressed immaculately, his guard uniform pressed, washed, and in the blue and red markings of his rank. His sword, polished, sharpened, and blended out from recent battles, was pristine. A status symbol, purely. But it was the sword that he had used in defense of the city. He had done his face well- as well as could be. A shave, closer than he had ever had in his life. It accentuated his scars- and the four pieces of shrapnel still lodged in his head.

He emerged from the barracks, menacingly standing behind Oryyn Black, the younger man's crass language causing his brow to furrow.

"My Guardsman know there is a time and place for crass language, young man." He adjusted his mask in his hands, not putting it on yet- it was a half-mask, just covering his eyes. There was no mistaking Tarkas.

"Mind yourself, and represent yourself and those you represent well. And try not to make a fool of yourself." He was not stern, mean, but it seemed a genuine suggestion. Tarkas had a fatherly approach to leadership, and was rarely cruel or demeaning. A drunken fool was bad enough, but a drunken Dreadlord causing a fool and cursing loudly-

How unbecoming!

Tarkas walked forward, his hand on the pommel of his sword. He took a deep breath, smiling at the city- as much as his scarred face could muster a smile.

"Such a night, hm?"
 
"Such a night is right, the city looks great!" Cormund tugged at his collar a little as he followed the group outside, but smiled in excitement all the same. It was very rare that they would be allowed so far from the academy, and to go to a gala no less!

His parents packed him a suit for when he was grown when they dropped him at the Academy steps. It was one of the few things they left him, and a family heirloom apparently. The deep violet, gold trimmed suit was opulent and looked far beyond his means. It fit him neither quite in size or look, but he quite enjoyed it despite how it restricted him. This combined with the Crow mask he wore, made him feel like a whole different person, and he was relishing in it as much as he was able.

"Oh right, didn't we have a mission here? What exactly are we meant to do here? Or is the mission just to have a good time?"

Cormund chuckled at his little joke. The screams and sights of the damned stopped him from fully enjoying the night air, but he tried to focus on the beautiful lights of the city that lay ahead of them.
 
Back
Top