The March

[Beleg Megil]

It had been building in Beleg for weeks, since it was announced that of all people, Casca had ascended to the throne. Casca did not call himself Regent or Steward.

Casca claimed he was King.

He did so claiming it was at the behest of the current Royal Council and to the wishes of the unconscious Archmage Clainin.

Well, Clainin was awake and supposedly somewhere safe. Beleg had been there when Clainin was escorted away from New Haven. Clainin said nothing in support of Casca. And despite the many trips to Castle British, there was no Royal Council to be seen.

The evening before, Beleg and many others saw Casca "bravely" lead many warriors and mages on a circuitous route to drive away the last of the Crimson Dragons and end the invasions of the cities. Bravely leading from the rear when danger was near. But when a Crimson Dragon appeared in the middle of his hysterical, self congratulatory victory speech, Casca abandoned everyone. Fled. Cried for guards to save him.

This was no king.

And Beleg firmly believed wherever Clainin was being kept, Clainin was far from safe. Unless you are also willing to call Avery and whoever else Casca had made disappear safe.

It was time for this so-called King of the People to answer to his people. So Beleg Megil took a sheaf of parchments, three ink pots and a quill and locked himself in the Bladesinger Tower, writing through the night.

*Attached to trees, buildings, bulletin boards and moongate rocks throughout Sosaria*

"To All Beings of Sosaria,

Under mysterious circumstances, it seems we have a King again. Supposedly he was chosen by a Council that no one has seen. He has claimed the great Archmage Clainin would support this choice, yet when Clainin awoke, he was mysteriously swept away into hiding.

I find it more likely that Clainin was silenced by the usurper Casca as Avery and others have been silenced in his long march to the Throne.

I say it is time for us to rise up and be not afraid. I and many others will be marching on Casca's stronghold he has claimed, Blackthorne's Castle, to demand answers and to challenge Casca to present this supposed Council to the citizens of Sosaria. I invite all beings to join me next Monday, March 30th at 8:30 in the evening, eastern time. We will be planning for this march in Skara Brae all week and invite your input.

Even if you support Casca, demand proof that your support is not based on a lie. Ask to meet *your* Royal Council.

With hopes,
Heru Beleg Megil of Silverwood"

 

[Aedon Durreah]

It had been a quiet night in Aegis. Walking t he stone lined path that led from the courthouse to Connemara Aedon hummed an old tune, and allowed his thoughts to drift to a quiet supper alone with Janissan. It had been awhile since they had just spent time enjoying the sound of the night while dining.

It was a wonderful early spring eve. The snow was all gone, and there was still a hint of a chill in the air. But all around him the promise of an early spring was making itself known.

As he came around past Van's house he noticed a parchment fluttering in the breeze. Stopping, he read the note posted by Beleg. A smile traced his lips as his hand reached up to stroke his beard.

“Ah Beleg, my old friend. You have touched on something that has been bothering many of the folks recently.”

Taking the parchment from the tree he turned back along the path to home. His step quickened and and his heart beat a bit faster at the thought of the march to come. He knew all too well the feelings it would stir in the heart of his wife. She had seemed recently to long for the days of battle within the depths of Moria. Perhaps there were still battles to be fought here and wrongs to right. And what appeared to be a false king would soon find that the people of Sosaria would not so soon take the words he spoke with such authority and so little proof.

Bounding up the steps of Connemara he entered and called out to his Janissan.

“Dear, Beleg needs our help.”

 

[Piper [PGoH]]

((OOC: Crossposted from the RP Portal))


Piper paused, backpedaling a few steps after passing the tree. Approaching it, she lightly trailed her fingers over the poster, eyes moving to follow the words written there.

Swinging her satchel over one hip, she rummaged through it for a pencil and notepad, looking back and forth from the poster to her sloppy penmanship as she transcribed the message word for word. Upon completion of the copy, she tucked the items back into her bag and spun lightly on her heels to make her way back toward Olympus.

Monday it is, then.

 

[Shioni]

Im not sure if anyone was following the story at all but Casca according to the story was voted to be King Pro-tempore.... or Temporary King

And according to the story line if there was a coronation my guess is that the RBC Emissary hiding out in Trinsic doing the virtue quest would be the actual king

Im surprised they dint kill him off already or change the name

 

[Uthar Pendragon]

He was asked but due to his humility declined.

 

[Calinaph]

Calinaph Van Ryne sat in the study of his tower. He sat in a chair, looking out the window towards the city of Britain, lost in thought. His hand gently stroked his cheek, rough with almost a week’s worth of uncut stubble. In his other hand, he still clutched the piece of parchment, almost unable to believe the words scrawled across it. He read them again.

"With hopes, Heru Beleg Megil of Silverwood," he finished aloud.

It had been almost three years since the events forcing him into seclusion. Since then, the Guardian of Virtue had watched with a growing sadness as the world seemed to spiral out of control. He’d sat in silence, saying nothing as the Seven Vices slowly ripped the land apart.

There was a cancer in Britain. He could feel it. He set the piece of parchment back down on the table, picked up his crystal goblet and drained the last of his spiced elven wine. Setting it down empty, he took a deep breath and stood from his chair.

It was time for him to stop hiding.

It was time for him to take a stand.

It was time for him to find his old friend Beleg.

 

[Phaen Grey]

Sage lay floating in the mineral hot springs in the caverns beneath the freehold, drifting in small circles feeling the resonance of the Fae above, slowly her bond with the balefire grew and new insights were being gleaned. Sage felt Myo's presence before her chimera appeared, the winged cat growling low followed by images of pink flapping in the foyer above in the manor. Myo didn't like Sage's dragonlings at the best of times, a stranger in her territory rialed the Tressym to no end. Sage climbed out of the water quickly slipping into her robe and followed Myo to the intruder. Reaching the foyer Sage held onto Myo as she hissed at the little pink dragonling, Sage felt a resonance of Fiona with the little one and knew it was no threat, Myosotis had other ideas... Leaping forward Myo tried to reach the little pink dragonling causing her to yip and drop the note she was carrying on the ground, with a puff of steam the little one disappeared leaving Myo to pace in circles around the note.

Sage picked up the note and Myo and headed up to the lounge on the third floor. Quieting the Tressym in her lap stroking Myo's fur gently, Sage unrolled the note and read it carefully.

To All Beings of Sosaria,

Under mysterious circumstances, it seems we have a King again. Supposedly he was chosen by a Council that no one has seen. He has claimed the great Archmage Clainin would support this choice, yet when Clainin awoke, he was mysteriously swept away into hiding.

I find it more likely that Clainin was silenced by the usurper Casca as Avery and others have been silenced in his long march to the Throne.

I say it is time for us to rise up and be not afraid. I and many others will be marching on Casca's stronghold he has claimed, Blackthorne's Castle, to demand answers and to challenge Casca to present this supposed Council to the citizens of Sosaria. I invite all beings to join me next Monday, March 30th at 8:30 in the evening, eastern time. We will be planning for this march in Skara Brae all week and invite your input.

Even if you support Casca, demand proof that your support is not based on a lie. Ask to meet *your* Royal Council.

With hopes,
Heru Beleg Megil of Silverwood​

Softly Sage spoke to her companion, "I've heard of Casca, but he's not included Malas in his Domain as of yet. Politics is another tool of banality, to wash out dreams and reinforce the mundane. Being involved could subject the Fae to its influence; however not being involved could leave us ignorant of whats to come..."

Myosotis nuzzled under Sage's chin and images of Mei and Elise filled her mind. Softly trilling Sage replied, "Thats what Dark Guardians are for aren't they, Elise and her Shadow Guard, Sluagh could go with the March and see who was there and what would take place." Sage knew better than to ask Myo to deliver the message, from out of thin air a small silver and ice blue dragonling appeared, with a small trumpeting noise he bowed gently as Myo hissed in his direction. Sage offered A'rawn the flyer and instructed him to take it to Elise and to Mei. A'rawn took it with haste staying out of reach of the Tressym and disappeared as quickly as he came. Curling up against the back of the elven chair, Sage thought over the changes in the realm and how they would or could effect the Fae, as much as she hated politics and all the drama it brought with it, the Fae couldn't hide from the times they lived in.

 

[AnneNomilly]

Anne walked wearily to her front steps after yet another long night of healing the wounded and doing her small part to aid in the fight. Her footsteps dragged and she dreamed only of a quiet room with a warm fire and a soothing mug of chocolate, if she even dreamed at all these days.

"Perhaps," Anne thought as she looked down at her wrinkled, battle worn skirt and blouse, "If I'm very lucky, someone will have left some warm water for a bath."

As she stepped onto her porch, Anne noticed a torn scrap of parchment caught in the bushes as if blown there from a long journey. The paper seemed almost as tired as Anne felt but, taking pride in her neatly kept lawn, she reached up to take the paper and began to wad it into a ball. As she did so, Anne spied a name written on the paper - Beleg.

Curiosity overcame fatigue as Anne smoothed the wrinkles from the tattered missive and started to read. Anne's eyes grew wide and she found herself clutching the parchment more tightly. When she finished reading, Anne stared out across the starlit lake with unseeing eyes as her mind raced.

"I'm not alone," Anne thought to herself with the first beginnings of hope she'd felt in many weeks.

Ever since the meeting where Casca proclaimed he was now king, Anne had felt a sense of foreboding deep within her spirit. Something was not right about the whole scene that day. It was as though a picture had been deliberately painted with a too large brush, making the brush strokes seem jagged and just out of focus.

When Anne had tried to voice her concerns, she'd been hushed and looked at as though she had taken leave of her senses. But Anne knew to the very depths of her being that the stories did not add up. The very questions written on this parchment were ones that Anne had worried over like a tired old dog with a well chewed bone. It had gotten to the point that even Anne's siblings avoided her company.

"Others see it as well," she thought as she shrugged off her bone deep fatigue like a well worn cloak.

Rushing into the house with a renewed sense of energy and purpose, Anne shouted for her siblings.

"Vera! I'll need your needle and quick skill for repairs! Lady! Make quick, we'll need bandages and supplies! Come, everyone, there isn't much time and we must prepare."

Anne's sisters stumbled sleepily into the main room and gazed at her in ill concealed imaptience. Anne, however, paid them little mind as she strode to the tall stack of chests in the corner and pulled out the ancient spell book given to her by her father so many years ago.

Holding the book firmly and turning to face her sisters defiantly, Anne muttered, "Yes, Beleg, there are questions that need be answered."

 

[Bob_the_fart_guy]

****just as the haze of sleep was beginning to take hold of Rob he felt a 'tap - tap - tap' on his shoulder. Lifting his head off the small table he forced his heavily intoxicated eyes to focus on the bloke that had disturbed his drunken slumber. Milo stood with a smirk on his face "Come now, to bed with ye'...silly elf".

Rob's face forced itself into a horrid grimace "Hey now...don't ye' be *burp* callin' me no *hic* elffff *hic* you bugger!"

Milo tried hard not to snicker as he hefted the half-elf over his shoulder and carried him to an empty room in the Hanes's Hostel.

As Rob stirred in the night he awoke to the sound of boot heals just outside of the room he was in. He slowly rolled over to try and focus his vision, not able to do so he leaned tword the floor and puked up the contents of an entire night of drinking. Afterward he lumbered tword the door to his room and noticed a tattered piece of parchment that had been tucked under his door. Even his half elven eyes were struggling against his human linage and the alcohol that still flowed in his veins, he walked close to the window, reading the parchment under the moonlight.


...so, thought Rob, a march eh? He passed out loosing conscious before hitting the floor.****

 

[Beleg Megil]

Looking in the mirror, he hardly recognized himself. Dirt smeared his face and his hair was in a thick, brown braid that trailed down his back. A floppy hat hid his distinctive eyes and a bandanna made sure that even if his hair shifted or the hat was lost to the wind, the tips pf his ears would not be visible. He supposed he could pass for a fisherman of sorts...

The beard would come off painfully, but that is why Eru created healing potions.

Tossing on a beaten and worn brown robe, Beleg opened a cabinet and plucked a shining silver key from a brass hook. Moments later, fishing pole in hand, it was time to brave the coasts of Britain.

Some hours later, he returned. There was an appointment to keep. The Elf lord was satisfied with his part of today's endeavor, but it would take someone with more specialized skills than he himself possessed to determine if there would be any benefit to his trouble.

As he hissed through his teeth at the sting accompanying the beard's slow tugging tear from his cheeks, Kuile appeared in the mirror behind him.

"Even better than the last few times, Falcon. I didn't hear teleporter or door. Have you truly learned to fly?" Beleg asked the odd, silver-eyed Elf.

"Only at very low altitudes and only for very short distances, Heruamin," the Tokunese trained Elf replied. "Your balcony was at sufficient height for me to perform a silent jump. Luckily, few except those who your wife's spell recognizes are allowed to reach the area needed to leap from."

"...You are very literal. You know this, don't you Kuile? I was only teasing."

Kuile watched Beleg in the mirror a moment, then replied. "Ah."

Beleg could only manage to grin and shake his head. With a sharp his, the last of the beard came off, and Beleg continued.

"On the desk is a key, a scroll for Recall, and a long rope with a hook. Focus on the key when using the scroll. I am sure when you reach your destination, you will know what the rope is for. Just go in, come back out, and return to me and verify that it will work."

"It will be done, Beleg." With that, Kuile gathered up the rope, key and scroll and turned to leave.

"And Kuile?" Beleg called after while he worked on the damnable fake mustache.

"Yes, Heruamin?"

"Do not be seen, friend."

Beleg turned a second later but Kuile had managed to leave without an answer. Though likely his lack of presence WAS the reply.

Some hours later, Beleg went to the kitchen with Rayne on one hip and Ethrian on the other. Both were excitedly discussing just how many of what kind of dishes they were going to help make for dinner. While young Rayne's ideas tended to be more practical and edible...even though quite a few dishes seemed to be cookie-based...even younger Ethrian's suggestions of such dishes as "worms" and "frogs" and "beetle poops" seemed more designed to draw laughing squeals from his slightly older sister.

Beleg struggled greatly to keep from laughing while he attempted to discourage his young son from such talk. Just as he put his children down to gather pots and pans, something caught his eye.

On the counter was a book. Not an especially remarkable book, it was just The Wild Girl of the Forest, but it was handsomely bound and trimmed. A feather was sticking out from under the cover like a bookmark, so Beleg cautiously opened it. On the inside cover, opposite the title page and written in an elaborate, flowing script was:

"This book is the property of the private collection contained within Lord Blackthorn's library. Severe penalties for removal."

The grin formed slowly on Beleg's lips and under his breath, he whispered. "Thank you, Kuile. Now, if Casca will not come out to see us...We will go in to address him."


(OOC REMINDER: March takes place Monday, March 30th at 8:30 PM EST. It will begin in Skara Brae at the Shattered Skull and we shall move on to Blackthorn's Castle from there. Everyone, no matter what your play style, no matter if you are a role player or not, and no matter if your character approves of or opposes Casca, is invited!)

 

[Vallend]

Vallend straightened the clasp of his Royal blue cloak yet again as he slowly rode through Britain. One thing that had always been stressed to him when he was but a squire was the people looked up to knights of the realm, and appearances were important. He smiled and nodded to those people he passed for he didn’t wear his helmet. He had placed his helmet in his backpack so he could enjoy the warm sun on his face and the soft spring breeze through his hair.

Spotting a new parchment tacked to the side of building he maneuvered his steed over beside it and leaned over in his saddle to read what it said. Was it another decree from the so called king? Vallends jaw clenched a bit tighter as he read this letter to the people from Beleg Megil. He knew Beleg from years ago. They both had served in the Ophidian Wars together, so they shared the bond of facing death together. Vallend sat back up tall in the saddle as he thought to himself how it was about time the people took things in their hands, and demand proof to back Casca’s claims to the throne.
He pondered the proper course of action for himself as he sat there. On one hand Vallend was a Paladin Knight of the Order of the Golden Griffon sworn to protect and serve the people. On the other hand he had taken a position as a scribe who was required to write the history of events of the lands in the most unbiased words he could find. The Master of his Order had convinced him that by becoming a scribe he would be serving the people just as much as when he wielded his sword in combat.

Ever since Casca had rose to fame Vallends gut had told him not to trust this elf. Rumors swirled through the academic and scribe community of those who wrote anything critical of Casca having middle of the night visitors, and some of them disappearing all together. Though none that Vallend knew personally had any first hand experiences like this, they were still spooked by the stories. Most of them though kept their negative opinions about Casca to themselves just to be on the safe side.

No it was time for Vallend to take his stand, and he was glad there were others that saw what he saw. Feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders with that decision Vallend spurred his mount into a trot and headed out of town. He would take part in the march and let his opinion be known.

 

[CatLord]

Catlord stood still in the shadows of the ancient Castle...

All the shadows were deployed to their assignments... reporting anything out of the ordinary.

All the TormTars stood strong in the main towns... ready to call for help.

The Twilight Conclave was running... and all the major leaders used that communication system.

The Alliance was made aware of this March... the smell of Revolution was in the air...

Time was by our side... tik tak.

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Aedon chuckled as he recalled the report given him of a decree placed on the ground outside castle Blackthorn.

How odd that believes himself to be king must hide behind iron gates and cast his Royal decrees upon the ground. Fitting perhaps, after all where else would one find such garbage if not cast to the winds?

Perhaps the royal rabbit feels the trap is about to be sprung. When faced with the light of day and the cries for truth from the people of Sosaria Casca seems to have little to say other then, I am king, go away now.

Tonights march may prove interesting indeed. Perhaps we will finally get answers from this man that will make sense. If not, well there are many ways to deal with a paper king. Many ways indeed.

 

[Beleg Megil]

Clainin was dead.

The Archmage had been "secured" in Trinsic, protected by Paladins. Supposedly, no one knew. Yet, reportedly, the Shadowlords knew exactly where he was and had new weapons that would make short work of his guards.

All too convenient.

Casca was playing a much darker game than anyone realized, or someone was using him as a pawn. Perhaps the real power behind Casca was as Gil-galad suspected: The Followers of Armageddon. Perhaps it was this Melissa and the growing Shadowlords.

Or perhaps it truly was Casca, made with power and willing to do anything to preserve it.

All Beleg was certain of was that this mysterious "Council" behind the throne, the successors to the old Royal Council, of which Clainin was the last free and surviving member, had not shown its face. No one could vouch for nor verify Casca's claim to power.

Meanwhile in the smaller villages, tax collectors were demanding payment as they did in Olympus. Odd things were happening to some who supported the march on Blackthorn's Castle. Beleg himself was attacked outside of his home by two Tokunesse trained ninja of the same clans that assault adventurers in the Tokunese forests.

Beleg would never be able to prove Casca was behind the attack, but he knew.


Regardless of what methods were employed to dissuade Beleg from this march, it would go on. Nothing but death would stop it. It had grown from his wife Ahmaya's idea to well beyond anything Beleg could control at this point.

Either way, it would happen on this night.

 

[Norrar]

Va'lis glanced at the clock on the wall, his mind sorting through all the recent events.

He had been used. the Shadowlords used him against Clainin, a man he had respected. Madness clouded his vision until last eve, when it faded like a cloth being pulled from over ones eyes. He saw, the destruction he had caused and lamenting the loss of such a great power, obliterated a library from the random spells he threw off in his rage.

The March, he remembered...That would be the thing to let his soul choose for him. Either he would stand strong against Casca once more, or he would succumb to the madness of his mind.

Slamming the bottle down, its sanguine contents spilling over the floor of his home, he stormed out and into the growing night. His mind bent on retribution as he held Clainin's Spellbook close...

He would make amends for such a crime. And Casca would spill all he knew.

 

[Bob_the_fart_guy]

OOC: So...where is the first meeting place tonight exactly? In front of Skara Brae bank?

 

[D'Amavir]

OOC: So...where is the first meeting place tonight exactly? In front of Skara Brae bank?

Tavern I believe. But I am an idiot so I can't be sure. heh

 

[DPudding]

Pudding goes to the bathroom and wonders why he's talking about himself in the third person? He notices he aint logged in for over a week. He's bored as shirt.

 

[Norrar]

If I can impersonate Casca, can I make new laws?

 

[Thom]

Well... I'd say you have almost as much right to make laws as he does. Just don't expect anybody to follow them.