Frostwoven Visions - RP

A boy stepped out of the crown, the clang of swords and a shield on his back as he walked. A hood concealed his face and a cloak hid his swords except for the hilts which stuck through the cloak in holes for them. He then spoke, voice hard and gruff. "Then when shall we attack? For I have travelled for three years viewing the land that my grandfather once claimed a great, and prosperous land. All I saw was ruin as I came from the northern border all the way to here. So I ask you, Howl Amberwing, where can I lend my services?"

 

Will withdrew his hood and swept his cloak to the side, revealing his swords and shield. "If it is a spy you need I can do that. I have many talents in combat and stealth. And My name is William... my grandfather is the legendary smith Jacob of Ambrosia..." He said, clenching his fist, stretching the leather gauntlets a bit as his knuckles cracked loudly.

 

A small smile spread over his lips as the thundering dice rattled in the cup across the table. The night had been prosperous for him, and much money had exchanged hands this night. If his luck kept up he could walk out of the tavern a richer man. Much, much richer.

His smile was hid behind this intertwined hands and his elbows rested comfortably on top of the polished wooden tables. No other feature of his face dared to give away the joy that was seething just beneath the surface. His dicing partners for the night had been a fat traveling merchant with a look of calculation that one acquired from his profession, a lowly looking nobleman whose fine overcoat looked slept in, and an old friend of his: Limier. Devilishly handsome with light brown eyes and pushed back blond hair, the smug looking orphan was definitely one of the best smooth-talkers Tettallin had ever known. The two of them had been friends ever since he had come back from his trip with Eardric.

At the moment it was the merchant's turn with the dice. He was losing some fierce amount of silver coins and didn't look at all happy by it.

With a slight toss of his hand the merchant let the dice jump from the cup. Everyone watched with anticipation -either obvious or hidden- as they clattered across towards the middle of the table where they stopped.

Sweet Ambrosia wine! Tettallin thought in a jovial melody as his dark gray eyes rested on the pair known as Spirit Fingers showed. He wanted to hoot and holler for joy as the pudgy man groaned. The stack of fat Algony silver coins were pushed Limier's way. With out flaunting or greedily taking the coins, the young man bid the merchant a thanks and nodded politely.

That being the final round, both Tettallin and Limier rose from the table and pocketed their coins while the merchant took the dice back to the tavern's front. It was custom for the tavern to provide the dice. That way it was less likely that anyone could or would fix a game. It seemed to work to. As the two men stepped out into the refreshingly chilly night, their heads swiveled and they checked either direction of the street.

Empty.

Turning to head for the nearest alleyway they quipped and jabbed at one another about the nights activities. The coins and serving women, the merchant, and even things yet to come. While the last topic was a mood-killer, it served to get their minds set on what needed to get done.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Limier," Tettallin stated with a smile. Tipping his hat slightly he finished saying, "I heard that there was a special meeting between this sweet couple and I thought to find out who shows their face." A bit of a crummy analogy, but cryptic enough that anyone over-hearing their conversation would think he was going to spy on a forbidden relationship.

In some form of the truth, he was.

Without another word the two went their separate ways. Limier would most likely go home and hide his money for their funds. Tettallin, on the other hand, had a meeting to get to.

It hadn't taken him long to maneuver the dark streets of what was once known as Ambrosia and enter the building that held a rebel meeting. It wasn't his rebels, and he risked a great deal by coming here, but he was intrigued. So he went, and found himself in the masses that he didn't expect to see in one place. There were men and women of nearly every age. He even spied a couple of Algony within the crowd. No doubt spies for a poorly amassed group. He decided to hold back further comment until he heard more. Tilting his hat down to shade his face, Tettallin found a empty spot near the back where he could wait and listen.

A man near the center of the room was continuing his speech. He had fair long brown hair that barely fell passed his hips. On either of his arms were tattoos that were gracefully intricate and strange, yet some how familiar to the Ambrosian.

 

Zendo sat in his shop, watching the man who was his keeper sharpen his axe. With a sigh, he returned to the diamond he was examining. Apparently, one of the Vikings had bought it from a jeweler in a distant land and wanted to sell it. More likely, it was stolen.

Zendo knew this was correct not just because he knew the nature of the Vikings, but also because no jeweler in his right mind would a pass a spirkle off as a diamond to a viking. "Worthless." Zendo said, setting the spirkle aside. "What do you mean worthless!" The man before him yelled. His watcher also looked up, his wet stone making a sharp Zing on his axe. "I would pay maybe a few silver pieces for this." "I bought to for twenty gold." "Then you were ripped off block head. This isn't a diamond." The man stepped back, and reached for his sword. "You better think wisely wizard." He growled. "I know when a man lies to me." Zendo, still in a calm voice, replied, "You every hear of a spirkle? They are a special stone that mimics the stones around it. If left long enough, a spirkle can in fact take the shape of a diamond. How ever, it can never mimic a diamonds fire, nor its strength. No jeweler on this earth would every mistake one." "Proof." Zendo sighed, then suddenly grabbed the spirkle, and threw it at the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces. "A diamond would have bounced. Satisfied? Here are a few silver pieces. Now get out, you're wasting my time." The viking stared at him for a second, then grabbed his money and walked out.

Zendo turned to his jailor, a man named Kev. "You got me out of bed for this?" Kev sighed at the antics of one of his men. "The guy is a fool. Sorry for waking you." "You oughta be, though his stupidity isn't your doing." With that, Zendo returned to his room. "Soon, very soon. Howl lives, and these fools will rot in hell soon."

 

This had better be good.

There have been many extremists to rise against the Viking Empire, only for them to be detained and executed.
Painfully.
Surely this long haired vagabond was no different.

Ryosuke had heard of several skermishes along the Abrosian-Algonian border between Ayonma and Dorron. Guerilla warfare wasn't one of his favorite methods of engagment, so he'd avoided conflict. But now that he had heard of once certain conflict near Ayonma in which a rebellion had charged them full force, he was finally interested in what this Howl had to say.

So here he sat, in a run down abandoned building in the slums of a small town near the outskirts of Ayonma.
Bored to be point of tears.
The man had been standing there, nearly at attention for nearly half an hour while strange people had entered at random times.

So, Avalon. What do you think?
Ryo's longsword, Avalon, had a strange spell cast upon it. Not only was it unbreakable, but it had the voice of a wise old man. He'd often sought the advice of his innocuous friend. Even if he was a bit choosey with his words.

"I'm sure you never thought you'd hear this from me, but I am very suprised about this man. For all that I've seen over the years, never have I laid my eyes upon such a turbulent aura. This man is touched by fate. That much is obvious..."

Ryo was sitting in a dark space by the wall. The room itself was in dissaray, with two columns supporting the floor above. There were many seats around a small risen stage at the front, where Howl now stood, facing the growing croud with determined eyes.

Just as he finally lost complete interest, another person entered the room. A man with crystal eyes. He had a strange hat on his head, with dark brown hair. Knives were adorned upon his waist, with other sheaved short blades descending his leggings. His face was hidden by the shadow being cast by his interesting headwear.

Hmm. Maybe I'll stay.

 

Zendo stared at his bed for a second. "Now," he mused, "How do I go about making a copy of me?" He happened to chance a glance at a bowl of water on the table. He could see his reflection in the bowl. "Ah." He lifted his hands, and a strange whispering filled the air. A magic circle appeared beneath him, depicting a crescent moon, and several runes for the forces of nature. A staff appeared before him. He grasped it, and conjured a mirrior image of himself using the water element. "There. My, but am I handsome?" He laughed, as his copy got into bed and soon fell asleep. Zendo leapt through the window, and began to walk to the meeting.

 

Zendo had taken little time in finding the meeting place. "So long as the Vikings are stupid, it should be fine. Perhaps some place that the last four or five groups hadn't been caught in?" He shook his head, then walked inside. Ahead of him had been a man with a odd head wear, with knives hanging on his belt. No doubt this was an assassin. So they were really that dead set on this course? Of course they were. "Now before we continue... Would our new guest like to introduce himself?" Howl asked. Deciding that he wasn't the one being addressed, Zendo simply walked to the side, and took his place at the back. "Yes, my magic will be best served by this man. I see the mark on him." He whispered smiling at the thought of all the vikings who had dared enslave him being torn to shreds by his power.

 

As Howl spoke, and the vikings stood to reveal their weapons, Ryo instinctively reached for Avalon. As Howl kept speaking, they sheathed their weapons and left with escort.

"Ryosuke, this is truly a powerful man..."

Or he could just be another mage. We can't be certain. I will not serve a man that turns out to be just another zealot.

"Ryosuke, this is rediculous. Just give it a try? What is there to lose? Besides, you could still find her like this...

Avalon...fine. But if this turns out to be just another farce, I'll break you myself.

"I can't be broken Ryo..."

I can try.

Ryo stood up, sword in hand.

"Sir Howl!" He placed his right hand over his heart. "My name is Ryosuke, and I pledge myself to your service." He knelt on his knee. "Long live Ambrosia."

 

Through half that spectacle, Tettallin had wondered if this man was referring to him. Doubts crossed his mind, as they would. What possible use would some mage want with a purely simple Ambrosian citizen who loved to gamble, pinch a serving woman, and live quite peacefully.

Well, there was the fact that he was helping another rebellion get moving.

When the large warrior stood and pledged himself, all thoughts of Howl calling him out dropped and he relaxed slightly. A soft sigh passed him and he shook his head. Of course he's not calling you, you dunderhead. Just because you're good at secrecy doesn't mean every man starting a rebellion is seeking you out. If they were you wouldn't be very good, now would you?

Satisfied with his reasoning the young man folded his arms and continued to listen as the surprised murmurs of the crowd went on. It wasn't all too surprising to see how quickly they reacted in awe to Howl's actions. He was a sort of myth among the commoners. An idol myth to Ambrosia that sparked hope and stirred rebellion. And an devil lore to the Algony who had settled themselves in. All in all they were acting like a bunch of children. They really should have more control over themselves. he chided mentally. His eyes roamed a bit more and caught sight of a thin, blue haired man hustling towards the corners. Near to where some of the assassin's party stood. Either he likes associating with danger, or he doesn't know.

Honestly how could someone not know? Those men stood, however relaxed looking, like a spring wound too tight and ready to jump on whatever moved. Their entire air shouted dangerous and the way those who were sitting too close to the party kept squirming, or shifting their eyes, it was just plum obvious.

With a frown the brown-haired gambler turned his dark eyes back onto Howl and waited for him to continue.

 

This man is insane, contrary to my earlier thoughts. Certainly howl sounded like a good speaker, but his recklessness was over board. For one thing, any one could come to this meeting, and you could bet that a few spies other than his own were here. Many lands were watching the situation with great interest. No doubt the skies will be flooded with messenger birds before the moro was out.

As for his recruiting policy, there wasn't one. Unless his deity was talking through him, this guy was taking on any person from the streets. Half of his recruits were probably not trustworthy and would turn on him for some coin when it came down to it. Half of these people he is recruiting i will have to strike down before this is all over. My, what a brash young man. Brash and stupid, but charismatic. I can use that. One way or the other, the Vikings would be dead. Even if Howl had to be turned into nothing more than a puppet.

 

Will leaned against the wall, impatience rising. "So when do we go?" He asked Howl, tapping his fingers against the wall. He didn't trust many of the people in the room, let alone those in the back and all the vikings. He was itching for a fight and wanted to attack. He wanted to train, to fight, to spill blood. But why was he head of the spy ranks and assasinations? Why had Howl picked him, because he was the first to step up?

 

Deciding to at last make himself known, Zendo stood and addressed those around him. "Greetings." He began, with a bow towards Howl. "I am Zendo, mage first class. I pledge myself to your cause. I don't know if you all know me, but I am currently prisoner to the Vikings. I'm tired of watching morons walk into my jewelery shop, trying to pawn worthless items for lots of money. I don't care how difficult the mission is, so long as it gives myself and my magic a chance to destroy viking men." As well as keeping an eye on you my puppet.

 

Ryosuke positioned himself behind Howl's right, against the wall. He hated having people to his back.

"Now, was that so hard friend? Very finely done if you want my opinion."

That's just it. I don't. I hate serving others. You know that more than anyone.

"I do Ryosuke. That's why I'm so proud of you. You're growing up."

Ryo growled deep in his throat, a bit louder than he intended. Avalon could really grind his gears. When a blue haired man stood to introduce himself, he couldn't stop himself from doubting the effectiveness of this little group.

A mage. Could be useful. No doubt he's about average. How's the aura Avalon?

"Decent, but that's all. Definately average. But there's potential in this one. Of course, Howl's makes mockery of this man's.

Ryo nodded. That's what he'd expected. He had no intention of entrusing his life to any of these people.

 

Zendo had sensed the odd sword the moment he had entered the room. Since it would have been terrible if everyone had realized how strong he was, he was trying to dampen down his powers. Sword, were arrrre you? He thought to himself, scanning the room using just his eyes. Eventually, he saw a man with a sword at the front of the room behind howl. He couldn't help but smile as through his eyes the sword began to glow. Got you. I'll have to be careful around that one.