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The Funeral of Rodrik Greford; The High Temple of St. Ambriel
Topic Started: Sep 9 2012, 05:35 AM (741 Views)
Volksgeist
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As you move into The High Temple of St. Ambriel, you see something that was once beautiful has become tainted with the despair of the people. The once brilliant gold designs are now hidden amongst the shadows and, where they can be seen, they catch the ghastly flickering light of torches and seem like many red-and-orange pulsing veins on the walls. The monolithic depiction of the story of St. Ambriel the Hallowed has become shrouded in darkness and the figures seem strangely different. Ambriel himself seems to stick out as white as a ghost, while the images of the gods seem to be looming beasts more than holy overseers. The beauty of the fantasy and realism has been lost and it only seems to bring to mind that, despite how great a man is in life, it always comes to an end.

As those of the Main Houses enter, they are led to seats near the altar, sat with their houses. The Four Main Houses of the Tetrarchs sit closer than the others. Meanwhile, the common folk crowd in around the back, some even stuck holding the heavy wooden doors open and getting soaked by the beating rain. As those who have been here before look on, they realize that someone important is missing: Edrik Greford, the eldest son of Rodrik Greford is not seated with his family. There also seems to be no sign of the Templar that was there before and had told them much about the church and its beliefs.

The colored windows high above show nothing more than black now, and the hulking shapes of the ambiguous gods seem more sinister in the dark. Torches and candles are the only light, and the sound of thunder accompanies the sound of the small pool within the temple and the rain outside. The procession comes to a halt.

The servants carefully lay move around the altar, which has been stripped of its colorful vestments. Fire can be seen glowing inside and occasionally flickering out to lick the bottom of the bed above it. The Aegis circles around, their black armor making them more shades then men. In front of the altar stands Lord Aeron Meson, the Tetrarch and head of House Meson, and with a flash of lightning he begins to speak.

"We are all here tonight to witness the gift of Bahi's Kiss given unto a man who once led this kingdom. A man who was cut short from life and taken in final rest to The High Pantheon's steps beyond the clouds. We are here to pay him respect and watch as the god of fire and death consumes his flesh and ultimately releases the last of the soul. We are here not only to do this, but to also bring to light those who murdered this man in cold blood. Those who murdered our friend and comrade, our noble Tetrarch, Rodrik Greford... We are here to pass judgement on them and seek revenge for his untimely death, and to be vindicated by the gods!"

The crowd began to murmur and gasps could be heard as they began to part down the middle. Lord Edrik Greford, eldest son of Rodrik Greford, and Blessed Darieal Letholdus, Templar of The High Pantheon, were being moved in shackles toward the front of the church, led by Tytos Minas. As they arrived at the front, Edrik and Darieal were turned to face the entire congregation.

"Edrik Greford and Darieal Letholdus, you have both been found guilty of conspiracy to attain the throne, the murder of our beloved Tetrarch Rodrik Greford, and ultimate treason against the Kingdom of Peleras and all who dwell within it. Though to many, you may seem strangely unconnected, to us it is not so. Within The Alabaster Keep, it is known that Rodrik was a good man, but that he did have faults. One of those faults was a penchant for entertaining a once-maid to Lady Greford by the name of Isolde. Isolde and Rodrik became lovers and, from the affair, was born a child. Darieal is the bastard child of Lord Rodrik Greford and half-brother to Edrik. A resentment on both parts and desire for power is undoubtedly what drove them both to conspire together and end their father's life. And it is clear now that they should be punished for what they have done. Now, speak before the congregation!"

Almost immediately, the crowd began to shout insults at Edrik and Darieal... it seemed it was a dark day indeed.
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Damon
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Ancient Bartender
Nathanial recoiled with the rest of the room as the two prisoners were led inside. His thoughts shifted rapidly from the coming events, the present event, and to the letter he had wrote not a few hours earlier. Nathanial could never take anything he heard at face value, so he viewed these accusations with incredulity. He was in no position to argue, though, nor to save either of them from what fate was about to befall them.

Nathanial held his tongue, looking around at other people's reactions, his eyes especially searched for Addam Knygrove. Should his uncle speak up and stand behind Edrik, Nathanial should follow, if Addam should condemn the pair of alleged brothers, Nathanial was not so sure.
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Flynn The Rambler
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I Get things Done, by being Big and being Bad.
Darieal was solemn, his look was one of the deepest depression. He knelt in chains as the men had stopped leading him, his eyes fixed on the floor. He was breathing heavy and looked to try and shut out the noise. He could not believe what he was charged with, and when he heard the birth of his origin, he looked at his half-brother with shock. "What? I am a Templar, I have no claim nor ties to any man or land. I do not have any interest in rule and do not have the mind for it. What you speak is lies! When would I have plotted against such a noble man? All my actions can be accounted for with in the churches logs, and by my brother Templars. I never left the church but on duty and I never left it alone. The People of this land need the truth! Not these false accusations against me!" Darieal raised his voice over the crowed but never louder than that. He remained kneeling out of respect for the dead, and once he finished speaking he looked to the crowed for friendly faces.
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Volksgeist
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Aeron Meson turned toward Darieal. "Why would you leave the church when you could simply have your cohort come to you? Is it untrue that a few days ago, Edrik made an appearance in this very hall and you had contact with him? It has also been reported by your superiors that you have been acting quite strangely, and that though you apparently have a nephew within the church, the young boy has gone missing since your arrest. The young boy was described as being very fair of skin, a trait that all Grefords share. Could this boy have been Edrik's son? Clearly, there is something that is hidden here, but it is no matter. It is obvious not only to myself but to all gathered here that you are both responsible for the Tetrarch's death."

The crowd undulated in agreement with Aeron Meson, hurling insults and some even trying to move close enough to spit on the Templar and the Young Lord, though the Aegis blocked them. Edrik had still remained silent, and Lord Aeron was determined to let him talk before carrying onward.
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Brackenwood
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Vardis stood far away from the scene that was taking place at the front of the temple. His heavy cloak and leathers keeping him mostly insulated from the wind and rain, though every now and then a slight chill found it's way through. It seemed as though the remaining kings had found themselves a lovely pair of scapegoats. It was almost comical really.

A king has been murdered and the masses seek answers, what better way to appease them than to blame the next of kin and claim lust of power as a motive? It should have been clear to anyone with eyes that the young Greford and the Templar had neither the will nor motive to kill the old king. But...that was none of Vardis' concern. As an extension to his contract, he been told to attend the funeral and give a full report on whatever transpired. And while Vardis didn't particularly care to get this close to the royal guard, he had already been given much and he hoped that there would be more yet to come. If he had to watch two men get sentenced to death, then so be it.
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『  』
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Get Rekt M8
Alexandria almost flinched when she saw the prisoners accused for murder. 'The Son and the templar?' Alexandria couldn't believe, nor truly fathom, why they were the ones being blamed for this. And she did believe they were being blamed.

Then came the exposition, as it were, that she had been lacking due to being away for quite some time now. Two half-sons who got so wounded from behind that they killed their father just to prove a point? Who in their right mind would believe that?

And yet the crowd jeered, and continued to do so despite the Templar claiming his innocence. Alexandria didn't know what exactly she felt at the moment; disgust? Did she hate this? Was this appalling? She really couldn't sort her feelings out in the moment, but on her face was, at least, clear worry and a slight twinge of disbelief.

But, like before, she remained quiet. Though everything within told her not to be.
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Lithas
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The One
He was in shackles. Chains. A prisoner. He was accused of murder, regicide and patricide. Frivolous claims backed with little to no evidence. Evidently the man next to him, also in shackles, was supposed to be his half-brother. No doubt a baseless claim founded on nothing more than a desire to deface his father even at the great king's own funeral.

Edrik was a boiling sea of emotions. Outrage, shock, bewilderment and disbelief each crashed upon him in waves, but thus far he had managed to maintain at least a semblance of order. He stumbled, surely it was impossible not to in these cursed chains, but he did not argue or plead with his captors. He had not said a word after the Aegis had accused him of his crimes, he merely went where he was told and did as he was bidden. He had been spit on, and many an cruel eye had glanced upon him, but he suffered their barbs silently.

After Darieal had spoken, and Meson replied, Edrik gave his own words voice. "Thank you, Lord Meson, for permitting me my right to speak. I would kindly ask that you reconsider any more falicious accusations against the character of my father, the great man who's funeral we are here to attend." Edrik let his words hang in the air for a moment, reminding those gathered that this was supposed to be a time or mourning, not of hasty accusations. Then he continued

"First I would attest to the character of my father. Rodrik is... was... a man of unsurpassed honor. It was a trait he inherited from my grandfather, and one which any of the lords, and many of the common folk, here can attest to. Again, I speak for the defense of my father. To imply he sired not only one but two bastards while he stayed in the Keep is a claim bordering on ridiculous."

"I will not, however, speak in my own defense. These claims, unfounded as they are, would taint any words I have to say. You would surely believe them lies or traps, disregarding them for your own purposes. Rather, I would ask that another Lord may speak for me." Edrik raised his voice, calling to one man who might be able to clear his name. The man he had spoken with on the night of his father's death, and the last man who had seen Edrik that eve.

"I ask that Lord Brom Westead be allowed to speak in my defense. He and his house can attest to my activities on that fateful night."
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Charnobyl
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Chan eil.
Stun racked Chanda's body and she gaped at the Templar that she had spoken with just days before. She had been with Edrik Greford and the Templar on the day in question and she balled her fist up in defiance, taking a half step as though to announce herself but then she stopped and controlled her emotions. She believed none of this, not one bit. The Templar had been nothing but kind, informative and very patient and understanding; not traits that a man planning the impending death of Lord Rodrik Greford would have nor show so close to the date of his act.

Swallowing hard and keeping her fists balled together, Chanda examined the face of the Templar more closely and compared it against that of Edrik Greford, perhaps there was some resemblance that she wouldn't see unless the two men were together, side by side. She was uncertain on the claim of there being a second bastard child in House Greford but she did not rule it out. Chanda was aware of the infidelity that surrounded many of the Noble Houses. Opting to keep her House out of trouble, Chanda bit her tongue and placed her hands in her lap, her knuckles growing white from the grip she held on her own hands and her body shook sightly in anger and confusion.
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Volksgeist
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From the tumult of the crowd rose a solitary figure who had been seated about midway in the church. The man was tall and his hair was jet black and flowed down around his shoulders, wavy but severe. His face was covered in dark stubble but he had no beard, angular and stark and featuring two eyes that seemed like orbs of liquid silver. He was clad in all black and bore a sable cape emblazoned with The Silver Steed of House Weston. Quietly, the figure moved from within the pews and benches of the church out into the main, central aisle and began to walk forward toward the spectacle at hand.

"I am Lord Brom Westead, head of House Westead and Lord of Steed's Wharf and its lands to the north in the Red Steppes. The Young Lord Greford came to me on that fateful night in search of aid for Alary Heights. He, along with myself, has had recent issues with a multitude of bandits and brigands that seem to be centered in or around Mayfair Downs and have allied themselves with a hedge witch. It was on that eve that he sat with me and my company to discuss a plan of action so as to protect his lands while he remained here. He showed much the same courage and intelligence as his father, and clearly showed love for not only his own family but those people who call him Lord. I see no reason to suspect him of this crime, nor for you to attempt to deride the congregation here with claims of fathering bastards and such."

Brom stood close to Edrik now, and turned to face the congregation of the church.

"People of Peleras, is this what you wish to see? Do you wish to see a Tetrarch torn early from life and the blame falsely fallen on his son and a man of the gods? Do you wish to see another one of your Tetrarchs succumb to cowardice and flee, putting his own life before your own? Do you wish to see these remaining Tetrarchs, two of the four, take an iron hold on the thrones together?

I am a Lord and have known these men for some time, and I myself do not wish to see these things! The very people we have entrusted the well-being of our kingdom with work to deride and abuse us! For one hundred years, peace has existed, and it is now from somewhere within that this hatred has torn a rift in our society! I see these men as no longer fit to be Tetrarchs! At a time for grieving, they cover their trails and hide their tails behind steel and fire! What say you, people of Peleras? Do you not see the folly?"


Brom spoke with conviction and it was clear that he had much taken aback not only the crowd, but Lord Tytos and Lord Aeron as well. Some concerned Aegis guards and begun to pull their swords free while a number of guards from House Westead had emerged from their seats and placed their hands on their hilts as well. Then, from another seat near the midpoint of the church stood a young man.

He had fiery hair and pale green eyes. His limbs were gaunt but showed great musculature. His body was covered in leather armor and he wore a brown cloak with the green and orange Stag of House Esbyn on it. He was none other than Harwin Esbyn, eldest son of Ailyn Esbyn and heir to the throne of Huntsgrove. He strode out into the main aisle as well, two guards hesitantly rising and following after him quickly. It was clear than no one around him had suspected her would rise to speak.

"I am Harwin Esbyn, eldest son of Lord Ailyn Esbyn and heir to the throne of Huntsgrove, and I agree with Lord Westead. I have sat and watched as this city has fallen apart with the death of Lord Greford only a short time ago. I have seen how the other Main Houses of Peleras are treated better than us others, who are made to sit back and are not given the courtesy of company when around those who bear a right to the Four Thrones. Tonight is the final straw. You wish to take a young Lord such as myself and pin upon him the gruesome murder of his father and tie him to a Templar as well? What you speak is both folly and blasphemy. I believe it is time for a change! It is time for the other Main Houses to seek the Thrones and take Peleras onward! I pledge myself and my blade to Lord Westead's cause!"

Lord Aeron Meson looked upon both Harwin and Lord Brom with more than disdain. It was clear that he did not foresee this happening, but he was not about to allow it to get any further. Quickly, he ordered guards to arrest Lord Westead and Harwin, and when they advanced, the guards who opposed them stood their ground. The tension was palpable. The crowd was roaring.
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Charnobyl
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Chan eil.
Chanda was stunned even more so, Harwin had spoken out before she had had a chance to react. She knew it was bound to happen but she had hoped he would at least share hushed whispers with her before doing so. She cursed herself for not holding onto him, to gain some forewarning of his movements before he lashed out as he had. Was she to stand and interfere or simply sit by while her brother spoke truths along with Lord Westead? She battled with herself and she found herself standing, watching as the guards advanced upon her brother and Lord Westead.

She couldn't stand by, but who would listen to her? Could she attempt to convince Lord Meson to forgive her brother for his young and foolish ways? She doubted it. She agreed wholeheartedly with her brother but she knew her family would barely be able to handle the arrest of her own brother, let alone both of them. She tried to catch Harwin's eye, to pass the message that she supported him but could do nothing to save him now. His own foolish impatience had lead to this and she ached to see this happening but there was nothing she could do. She was but a woman, good for nothing but breeding and looking pretty on a Lord's arm. Her eyes were brimming with tears but she refused to let them fall. She stood, watching her brother as the guards moved in.
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『  』
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Get Rekt M8
Alexandria's draw dropped when her father rose up to speak against the accusations he accused of being false at the request of the young imprisoned lord. While in he heart, she was satisfied that her father would uphold a just stance in a way she knew he would, her head had come to learn that sometimes following your heart didn't bring about the most logical outcome. At least not a logically preservationist outcome. "Father..." she whispered, shutting her mouth with worry washed much more visibly upon her face.

Sure enough, the Aegis held their weapons free, with members of her own guard thumbing at their own. And almost everything began to escalate before her eyes and her still figure. She did not move. She did not change her expression of worry. Frozen.

Perhaps she should have delayed her return to Peleras. Perhaps she shouldn't have returned. Her figure, while still unmoving generally, began to quake. She felt a chill run up and down her spine, but kept her posture the same. This day was only getting worse. She wanted to do many things; she wanted to flee, she wanted to stand at her father's side. But she did none of them. This was fear of what would likely happen, and it paralyzed her and threatened to tear her down.
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Flynn The Rambler
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I Get things Done, by being Big and being Bad.
Darieal looked around the Temple and shook his head. He could not believe what was happening and could not understand how things had changed so quickly. He watched the Aegis draw there blades and looked closely too eye there stance. This was not a position to be in, and his missing nephew was making him very worried. He thought carefully on how to act, a blood bath could easily start here if the right temper flared. "And so now the beast dose tear and rip at himself, feasting upon its own twisted flesh as it had consumed all the Five had to offer, this sin would be banished to far away lands to preserve the creations on the Five and there children."
Darieal spoke the quote. Too quiet to be heard by anyone not paying attention, he knew his gods heard him though. "The innocent have not fear what lies beyond the mortal coil, go swiftly into the arms of the Five and you will be taken care of." He spoke to the accused next to him. He took in a deep breath and let out a shout.
"Stay Your Blades! I do understand that those of noble blood feel they have privileges, but There will not be a blood bath in the Temple, in the High Temple! Or have we fallen so low to spill blood in such a holy place?! Where are my fellow Templars?! Why has this madness been allowed to grow!? Who seeks to tear down our foundations and try to reap more than they have sown? True Justice needs to be found here, and drawing arms now will not find it!"
Dareal was very loud when he needed to be, he had no idea if he would be listened to, but he did know he would be heard. His eyes searched quickly to try and find where his Templar brothers were, hoping to see them restore order.
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Brackenwood
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Vardis chuckled quietly to himself from the back of the crowd. Such fire, such bravado, such stupidity! Truly, the remaining Tetrarchs were cowards and bullies, using the death of their friend to sew fear and amongst their people, trying to horde whatever power they could; and when openly challenged?

They sought to violently crush the voices of truth and reason. It was a wonderful sight indeed. The crowd had been thrown into a frenzy. Guard was ready to kill guard in defense of their respective lords, and despite the chained Templar's wise words it seemed as though the temple would be painted red with the blood of those gathered.

All that was needed was a spark, a tiny push to send the entire escalating mess, careening over the edge. Vardis moved himself back against the open door and further out into the rain, ready to move at a moment’s notice. He was glad he had stayed and he hoped that he wouldn't be disappointing.
Edited by Brackenwood, Sep 10 2012, 02:08 AM.
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Lithas
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The One
Before he knew what he was doing, Edrik found himself straining at his chains, and raised his voice. "Stop this! Brom, if you have qualms with the high lords bring them up in council. Surely they would be wise enough to see the folly in a realm torn asunder. High Lord Meson, surely you see that if you arrest these men you will start a process that cannot be stopped until this land runs red with the blood of our people. Shame on you both for befouling this holy place." He stopped speaking, and only then saw that his wrists were bleeding from the strain he'd placed upon his shackles. In a quieter voice he added to the man next to him "I may rest securely in the arms of our gods, but what of my people?"
Edited by Lithas, Sep 10 2012, 05:06 PM.
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POOHEAD189
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Eladar stood in the back, leaning against the wall. He kept himself well hidden amongst the crowd, and watched all of this intently, his mind anazlying the situation. These two were obviously not guilty, but nothing significant had happened as of yet. Just petty greivances and arguements and speeches. He knew well honor and respect, but the nobles often had the touch of the dramatic about them.
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