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In this Discussion
Tournament of Souls Closing Ceremony
Moirean
Chairmander Portland
So! We have established a tournament the guild holds every 25 years - events range from storytelling to an offering contest to multiple PK activities to submission of tactical reports and more. The winner gets a fancy-pants sword with some artifact runes on it. Here's our closing ceremony!
------------------------------------------------
(Recruits): Cannan says, "Did I miss the closing ceremonies?"
(Recruits): You say, "Nope! In fact, they are about to start!"
(Recruits): Denser says, "I don't think so."
(Recruits): Cannan says, "YES."
Widowmaker's walk. (Shadow Keep.)
A rack stands here, savage lines presenting armor in a brutal display. Its pearly surface awash in icy blue light, a massive warhorn is fixed to the ground here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A murky darkness has settled in here.
You see a single exit leading down.
You exhale heavily to blow a massive warhorn, lungs burning from the effort. A low, deep note issues forth, bouncing off the mountains in a resounding echo.
(Carnifex): Medeya, the gatewarden says, "Carnifex, the warhorn has been blown! You are needed at the Keep!"
(Recruits): Denser says, "And there we go, warhorn blown, let's go."
A fire-lit meeting hall. (Shadow Keep.)
This large hall spans most of the southeastern tower, save for a few small offices tucked away to the south. A spiral staircase winds around the chamber to ascend to the parapets above, giving an excellent, bird's eye view of the circular room. Big enough to contain a (tightly-packed) gathering of all of the Keep's residents, the hall's chilly stone flagstones and high, drafty ceiling are augmented by a large firepit in the center of the chamber. Wrought from blackened iron, the pit's border is shaped in the image of knights locked in combat, wielding hammers and halberds and commanding brutal, vicious hounds, while a ring of skulls inset into the floor create a macabre hearth. Heavy bear pelts, both tundral and forestal, serve as crude throw rugs, while benches line the walls, giving members a place to sit during a meeting or while awaiting an interview with an officer. Narrow arrow slits allow glimpses of the landscape beyond the keep, the view mere slivers and slices of the grasslands stretching away below the remote mountain fortress. A simple bench is here, long enough for three people. A twilit tapestry hangs here, the dark embroidery depicting a triumph of darkness. A straight-backed chair is here, carved with the Carnifex crest. Ringed with a border of inset skulls, a firepit fills the center of the chamber. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.
You suddenly feel a tugging from a starstone engagement ring wreathed in roses, as its paired item pulls towards it.
Toz gives you a peck on the cheek.
"Aha!" Denser exclaims.
Denser gives you a respectful salute.
(Recruits): You say, "We are gathered at the meeting hall."
(Recruits): You say, "Southeast tower."
Cannan gives you a respectful salute.
Cannan gives Toz a respectful salute.
Cannan gives Denser a respectful salute.
Denser gives Cannan a respectful salute.
Denser says, "Ser Xenia, at a keg cellar... Drinking as always."
Cannan grins and nods.
Toz gives Cannan a respectful salute.
(Carnifex): Denser says, "Ser Xenia, we know you are busy drinking straight from the kegs but do come over!"
Cannan twiddles his thumbs, somewhat bored.
You have emoted: Moirean steps a bit closer to the fire as she waits for the other attendees. "Have you seen my shield?" she asks, passing the time. Without even waiting for a response, she quickly pulls a loop of glassy black soulstone from her bandolier, firmly gripping the rock around her hand. For a moment, she seems to just be holding an empty circle of stone - a grip without...well, without a shield - and then her eyes do something weird, halfway crossing, and there's a faint lurching sensation as a distant wail pierces the hall.
A hazy, murky aura begins to shimmer above the shield as trapped souls fountain upwards, forming a wavering barrier.
Toz's eyebrow raises at your new shield and he dips his head in a nod. "Very appropriate," he tells you after a pause of quiet consideration. "If you wield it with your enhanced arm, does it cause any strangeness?"
Cannan blinks in surprise, and raises his eyebrows in mute appreciation, giving a soft little clap.
You have emoted: Moirean's eyebrows raise and she glances down at the metal limb in question. "I...I hadn't considered it," she admits. She tilts her head to the side, musing, "...but could even add a sort of...attachment..."
(Carnifex): You say, "Hey. The rest of you! Closing ceremonies!"
Cannan taps his bardiche on the stone floor, sounding a staccato beat. His fingers grip the haft so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
Toz gives you a nod. "Maybe so," he replies to you, hands moving to clasp behind his back as he falls silent and begins to wait.
(Spinesreach): You say, "The Carnifex are holding our closing ceremonies for our Tournament of Souls. I'd like to extend an invitation to Spinesreach to participate, if any are interested."
Something vaguely imp-shaped managed to somehow squeeze through one of the arrow slits on the outer wall of the tower, tumbling to the floor in a heap.
Medri picks herself up and dusts herself off, before snapping a sharp salute.
Medri says to you, "Present and ready, Lady Commander Champion, ma'am!"
Cannan tenses up, then looks over at Medri, doing his best to look surprised.
Toz raises his eyebrow at Medri at the salute. "I was not aware we took in a new recruit."
You have emoted: Moirean's gaze drifts over to Medri with idle curiosity. Giving a faint nod, she says, "Welcome to the Shadow keep."
Medri says to Toz, "Recruit? I'm merely an ordinary Spirean citizen, and nothing more, ser."
Xenia gives the world a smart salute.
Argolis gives the world a smart salute.
Cannan says to Toz, "Aha...ha. Yes. That she is."
--- I ducked out for a bit here, so I don't know the context, but... ----
Argolis says to Toz, "Postulant Whoreson likely needs a beating anyway."
"Way I look at it," Cannan says softly, a grin passing over his face in spite of himself, "It's in your best interests to not be hittin me too much. I'm already sub-par, innit? You really want to damage the goods further?"
Satomi ripples into existence before you.
Cannan stares at Satomi and blinks.
Xenia gives Satomi a respectful salute.
You give Satomi a respectful salute.
Cannan gives Satomi a respectful salute.
Satomi gives the world a smart salute.
Denser gives Satomi a respectful salute.
Toz suggests to Cannan, tone flat, "One does not strengthen steel by simply letting it sit on the forge, recruit. It is either forged and hardened by repeated blows or, in some cases, discarded as worthless scrap. You should be glad that Ser Argolis is determined to continue tempering you."
Flatly, Argolis says to Cannan, "Perhaps if you were more focused on you training instead of stealing someone's knickers.."
Toz gives Satomi a respectful salute.
Medri glances over at Cannan, then abruptly scrambles up his back, perches on his shoulders, and gives him a right proper clout 'round the head. Of course, given her size, it's not very effective.
Medri says, "There! Beat him for you, boss."
You start to wield a shadowy soulstaff.
You have emoted: Moirean gives a shadowy soulstaff a quiet tap on the ground. The soulstone lets out a shrieking sound as it strikes the flagstones, a faint, tormented wail echoing through the chamber as the constrained soul at the top of the weapon swirls erratically. "Let us begin," she states in a loud voice.
Cannan opens his mouth to answer Toz, but seizes up as the imp scales his back impetuously, and ducks his head, letting out a yelp as her little palm strikes him flat-sided. "You lot..." is all he mumbles, shifting so that Medri sits more comfortably atop him.
Cannan clears his throat.
Medri drops off Cannan, landing light on her feet on the ground. She brushes some of the snow and debris off a Spirean militia uniform, trying to make herself look at least modestly presentable.
Fireplace:
A circle of stones forms the base for this simple firepit, its circumference wider than a man is tall. Blackened with ash, grease and char, the stones support an iron framework which circles the pit and arcs upwards in a tripod designed to support the weight of massive logs. Carefully wrought by a skilled blacksmith, the metal has been shaped into the image of fighters wielding the distinctive halberds and hammers of the Carnifex knights. Warhounds leap alongside the metalworked melee, fierce maws and sharp blades backlit by the hearth's shifting flames to create an impression of savage snarls and whirling weapons. Circling the entire pit, a ring of skulls has been inlaid in the stonework - the bones appear to be almost melted into the rocks, with only the empty sockets and vacantly grinning smiles gazing upwards from their stony bed.
You have emoted: Moirean strides to the center of the room, placing the fire at her back as she faces the gathered Carnifex soldiers (and one perfectly normal Spirean and nothing more). The flames leap and twist behind her, sweeping out dancing shadows across the walls of the meeting hall - knights locked in frenzied combat, fierce hounds lunging and clawing beside them - and her own shadow skirls upwards to join them, stretching tall behind her.
As you begins to speak, Xenia straightens in her stance, clasping her hands firmly at her back.
With you moving towards the center of the room, Toz elects to stand out of the way and towards the back, somewhere near Satomi. He uses his rather considerable height to peer over the rest, watching more you and you motions than the shadows on the wall, hands still clasped behind his back.
Something odd and...curious happens as the fire flickers. The Commander's shadow begins to lengthen and grow, larger and larger until her outline ceases to resemble an Imp's - or even a woman's, shifting bulkier, larger, now, and clad in the distinctive outline of brutal, spiky plate armor. Beside this central figure, the shadows of the knights change as well, sliding out of their endless combat to straighten before they gather into orderly rows.
Beside the shadowy soldiers, the hounds, too, cease their idle slaughter and stiffen, heeling to their masters. In a silent, shadowy tramp, the soldiers begin to assemble and then straighten to attention, saluting the man looming in the center of the group. There's a flash of red in the dark images, and then another - a pair of eyes, piercingly staring out back at you.
Though not a word pierces the silence overtaking the chamber, there is something unmistakably harsh, cruel, savage and bloodthirsty about the man. He lifts his arm to raise an immense, jagged bardiche into the air with a streak of shadows and the soldiers begin to advance.
An ember stirs. The fire sparks. Tiny gouts of flame twist upwards, and in these bright glitters are more figures, knights, shining and stern-faced, proud - too proud - and unyielding, forming from the flames to oppose the shadowy soldiers.
The battle which ensues is swift and silent, shadows slicing through flame in merciless swathes of darkness. A cold, chilly breeze stirs through the Keep as the murk clinging to the ground rises up to join the combat, forming into more and more soldiers, an endless wave to hammer at the fiery resistance.
Finally, the fire sparks violently, resolving into a single man - the proudest Paladin of them all, and the immense shadow Carnifex leading the battle approaches him. The two begin to duel, one on one, their skill beautifully matched. Darkness twists and fire skitters, carving out blazing lines through the shadows. An inky blade crashes down, shuddering against a slender thread of pure light - but it cannot hold and the hacking blow continues...inexorably...
"Brother..." the fiery knight whispers, the exhale an ashy breath of crackling flames, and then he is extinguished. Roan stands, triumphant, crimson eyes glaring balefully out at you, before he begins to fade, melting into simple shadow and static darkness.
The image fades, but a chill, crisp air lingers in the room. Soul-touched, you realize - somehow, you don't know HOW, but somehow you know...and your attention to drawn to a weapon in the Commander's hands, glowing with the same crimson light that hard burned in the shadowy Carnifex's eyes.
You have emoted: "One of Roan's blades," Moirean says, her low voice finally breaking the spell of silence in the chamber as she slowly raises a rune-covered, dark-bladed bardiche.
You have emoted: "Restored and returned to us, and imbued with power for one of our own to bear," Moirean continues. Her speech is slow, and she pauses to meet the eyes of each Carnifex soldier. "And so we have fought. Tested ourselves. Trained and competed to find the one warrior here worthy of wielding."
You have emoted: Moirean lifts her chin in a sharp nod as her stare finally settles on Denser. "And found him we have," she says. "Ser Denser, step forward."
Denser takes a step forward towards you.
You have emoted: Moirean lifts the blade outwards, holding it just a hand's reach away from Denser. "Ser," she states. "Will you uphold Roan's legacy while you bear this blade? Will you seek savagery against all who stand in your way? Will you represent the Carnifex with every bone in your body, down to your dying breath? Will you slaughter?"
Casting a glance at the audience, Denser replies without hesitation 'I will'
You have emoted: Moirean gives a slow, assessing nod, carefully handing the bardiche over to Denser. Its dark blade gleams in the firelight, the runes across its surface flaring with a bloody blow. "Then bear this weapon, Ser," she concludes. "Until the next tournament, bear it as our Champion of Souls!"
You give a rune-covered, dark-bladed bardiche to Denser.
Bardiche (<3 Toz for writing it!):
The haft of this bardiche has been crafted from a single, highly polished piece of pine wood. Affixed to the bottom of the pole is a blackened steel cap, which serves to both prevent splinters and elicit a crisp clack whenever the weapon is butted into the ground or struck against armor. The blade itself is likewise crafted from dark-hued steel, its dark grey coloration further marred by a reddish tinge that weaves, patternless, through the surface, giving it the appearance of being perpetually coated in barely dried blood. The blade is not smooth either, instead covered from top to bottom with ethereal runes and arcane shapes and symbols which appear to shift ever so slightly with any change in light.
Denser says, "Thank you Commander."
Having lurked in silence for the duration of the ceremony, Medri abruptly thrusts her tiny fist in the air.
"HROAGH!" Medri shouts, her voice defiant like a challenge to the Gods themselves.
Medri glances left, then right, noticing she's the only one that actually cheered. She slumps back in shame and embarassment.
"Well done, Ser Denser," Xenia states loudly to Denser, a glint of what might be described as pride in her eyes.
Cannan puts one hand over his face, closing his eyes in exasperation, but raises his bardiche in celebration.
Denser smiles at Xenia.
Cannan says to Denser, "So Medri and I wanna know when the wedding is, Ser!"
Medri says to Denser, "I now pronounce you man and bardiche."
Medri nods her head sagely.
Denser utters a deep, rumbling laugh.
Cannan seems to think for a moment before nodding slowly at Medri.
Satomi nods her head towards Denser in silent congratulations.
Medri says, "You may kiss the blade!"
Cannan looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Argolis peers at Cannan suspiciously.
Cannan says to Argolis, "Do I get a guild favor for that?"
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