Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Jul 16, 2017 17:00:16 GMT -8
Letlove moored the dinghy to the recently repaired dock and heaved himself onto the platform, some of the older rot-soaked boards bowed under his weight. It had been just over a day since he sailed north from New Arisalon. That was what many called it anyway, he knew it by its older name: The Ringed City. Unfortunately for him, that city had been the last thing worth seeing on his short voyage. Nothing but open air and birds, which Genesis would not be critical over. While being a tad drab, it was the perfect condition in which to embark. And now he was here, the northern edge (square 3). The biting cold greeted him with haste, but he had come prepared and the fact that it was 'summer' here did take a few of the teeth away from the bite.
He followed the planks, some warped and some rigidly stiff from the new maintenance, to the short causeway that lead over a frozen bit of the inlet. From his elevated position he could see the shattered bits of the anchor poles that had once served as the foundation for the old causeway. The tips of broken and jagged pieces of wood pierced through the snow and ice, tatters of old rope snaking in the breeze. He was thankful the repairs had been completed prior to his arrival for a hike through that would not have been pleasant. The causeway eventually ended at a winding path of cracked cobblestone, raised edges on some the split-level stones meant he would have to watch his footing. It was a tightly packed pattern though and the snowline had receded away from it, at least he wouldnt have to contend with the marsh-like dirt melted snow sometimes left behind.
His mind drifted as he put one foot in front of the other, the stonework leading him up through a pass, into a bluff, and then on higher still. The path serpentined the side of the most formidable hill in sight. If one could even call this a hill. 'Small mountain' would have been more appropriate he mused. Within the hour, he would reach the summit. For now, he had to wrestle with loose footing, occasional gusts, and toes that were beginning to feel winter's touch. None of this was even close to his threshold for tolerance though and he soldiered on all the same. Memories of the old times and of her kept him warm, kept him going. This journey would be worth every hardship endured.
He neared the peak just as a light dusting began to fall, but he could still see it. Within a hundred yards the ruins of a modest manor was coming into focus. Its once proud walls now lined with splits gave reason for him to hurry his pace. This old broken abode would give others hardly a reason to even look in its direction, but for him it was a beacon of hope. Drawing closer still, he could now see that the left side of the mighty iron entrance gate was not only misaligned, but also completely unhinged and was being held upright solely by the snow and ice that it had collapsed into. Despite no longer being impressive by any standard, once he was close enough to touch it his smile could not be contained; he had arrived at his destination.
The High Stare Home. Built during the First God War, it belonged to a wealthy family of cattle ranchers before being purchased by the Tyran Army for use as an outpost. It changed hands again as Frost threatened Tyran with his armies from the north when it was sold to a humanitarian group and went on to serve as both a field hospital and refugee house. The title was traded one last time to a knight from Silem's older guard who had made his way here after his order had been disbanded. From its time as the home of ranchers to the place an old knight went to retire, it had received many upgrades. An armory, larger sleeping quarters, small sentry towers, and a network of underground passages had been added by the Army. A deeper well, enhanced food cellar, additional quarters, larger pantry and kitchen, and a separate hospital wing were provided by the charities that had offered asylum here. Reinforced walls, a large food garden, a forge, improved horse stables, and a large central tower were all the work of an out-of-business knight trying to stay task-focused. It was quite a sight to see in its prime, now it would need care to return to splendor. Fortunately, some of the work had already been done for him.
Entering into the courtyard, he took note of the windows that had been replaced. Stones that had been reset where easy to spot, them being brighter and less moss-caked than their counterparts. Some of the doors were obviously crafted from new wood. He pressed on into the main hall, its large oak door creaking loudly. He came face to face with a small table that had been placed in his path that greeted him with a folded note. He closed the door behind him to seal out the wind and snow before reaching for the missive:
Genesis,
It has been some task indeed, but weve repaired the dock, causeway, and all of the major deficiencies of the manor. The well draws water, the food garden reseeded, the pantry stocked, and you have enough wood gathered for a single week. As you did not pay us to stay and greet you, we left when the work was done. Good luck.
Quoth,
The Raven
He nodded his understanding as he pocketed the note. The Raven did always deliver on his word and there was no need for his men to have stayed any longer than was necessary. The gods knew this place was far from the luxury of its past. Commoners had probably all but forgot the High Stare Home even existed. Even during its time it had been a misunderstood place. Many believed it was called the High Stare Home because from its vantage you could see straight across the waters and, on a clear night, might be able to see New Arisalon outlined on the horizon. 'High Stare Home' was actually a misspelling of its name. Its true title was 'Hye Staer Home', from a draconic language that meant 'Where all roads lead, home'. That sentiment was not lost on him.
He moved the table to side of the grand hall, "Soon," he whispered while his mind went back to her, "Soon."
----------------------------------
Back in the Ringed City, Genesis had left behind a note of his own which would be found if anyone came looking for him. Placed neatly on the center of Letlove's desk, it had been addressed to Lord Magister Trent Kaliba. It read as follows:
Trent,
I have traveled north with intent to return. When I do, I would like to discuss with you joining the ranks of this city to train its guardsmen. Also, I heard about how you worked to dispatch that band of terrorists the other night. Your father would be proud. Thank you for the room and enclosed you will find the silver pieces to cover the cost of the dinghy and winter gear I borrowed. See you again soon.
Regards,
Genesis
|
|
Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Jul 22, 2017 10:41:08 GMT -8
[In New Arisalon]
While he had been on his way to the war room to join Trent, there had been a terrible explosion from deep within the city. It was penetrating and vibrated the halls with enough force to make the walls quiver. Letlove had to brace himself against a stone support pillar until the shock wave had past. He witnessed soldiers in the hall stumble beneath the shifting grounds, heard their armor clank and dent as they smashed into the floor. And then it was over. For a moment nobody moved, fear of what had happened was palpable. More so was the unanswered mystery of if it was going to happen again... But after a dozen or so heartbeats, it appeared not. The fallen defenders picked themselves off the floor and scurried after their swords that had come loose. Genesis checked himself as he peeled from the pillar, nothing seeming amiss.
If ever there was a time to leave the city, this would be it. Whatever had happened below, whether it was the start or conclusion of something, would work itself out. How many Kaliba's were there now? When Letlove had first emerged from stasis, there was but Arc and Reign. Their number had grown considerably in his absence. There was more then enough of them to solve the issue at hand here in the city. His leave of New Arisalon would not be to its detriment.
Genesis returned to his room to collect his belongings, which were minimal. Everything that mattered to him personally had been left in the old life. The one that was hundreds of years in days gone by. The things he kept with him now were all replaceable. Clothes, bedroll, a few rations... Nothing that he couldnt do without. Only his armor and sword, which he had forged in the Expanse and kept tightly bundled in his pack, were of any actual value. Even then, he could always remake them if lost. Assuming he wanted to or was even still able to return to the home of the Senatori. He shook his head at the unpleasant thought.
As he tucked away the last item from his home in the palace, his thoughts went to Zephyr. The young boy had visited him roughly a week ago, saying that his mother had hoped he would train him. Was that merely a week past? Felt longer. Maybe that was just his age showing itself. When one has memories spanning hundreds of years it sometimes is easy to forget the length of the current moment. Still though, Laelia had made a request of him--a sense of duty pulled on his character. He could not stay, but he also couldnt shirk the task. He sealed his pack and moved for his desk.
Nested neatly on the surface was a sheet of paper with two words on its face: "Train him!" Genesis stared incredulously as the sheet fluttered slightly against the breeze coming from his open window. The most startling part wasnt that there was a written instruction for the very thing he had just been deliberating over, no. It was the fact that it was his unique handwriting style that the words were in. The capital t slightly larger than was necessary. The i perfectly vertical with the floating dot almost invisible... This was his penmanship alright, yet doubt washed over him and he found himself staring at his hand.
After a short lapse, his mind returned to the moment. Need to leave, but must train. His solution? He drafted his own note and slid it under the door of Zephyr's home. Then he made way for the docks...
-------------------------
Zephyr,
Below is the alchemical process to craft brightsteel. It is strong as iron with half the weight. The perfect material for a boy who wishes to be the fastest in the realm. Forge your new weapons, modeled after the twin swords you carry, from the diagram below. You will know if you have succeeded if the blade doesnt bend under stress and if she has a slight yellow hue. Almost like youre holding small rays of sunlight. Then find me at the High Stare Home (tell your mother first). Location is on the back. We will begin your training then and there. Good luck, lad.
- Genesis Letlove
--------------------------
If Laelia or Zephyr had other arrangements, considering their potential involvement with what had been occurring in the city, that would be alight too and no offense would be taken. There was, after all, a purpose at the High Stare Home. And he had much work ahead of him.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Jul 22, 2017 11:09:53 GMT -8
 The path to the High Stare Home |
|
Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
|
Post by Trent Kaliba on Jul 22, 2017 21:52:38 GMT -8
Other papers were upon his desk as he went to leave, a short hand written note, in an even script.
**
General,
While I am not certain it is the best use of your talents, I am certain it does need to be done. The legions need further training, a reminder of the civilization that the Legion represents. I anticipate you have your own projects but know that when you are prepared, you and yours are welcome. House Kaliba is not the only representation of our civilization. Not anymore.
Tonight I'll be putting an end to this chaos, and over the next several days we'll be cleaning away the remainder of the cultists and dissidents. I'll call on you when it is complete.
Respectfully,
Trent
The letter's familiarity was an attempt, plain and simple to withdraw from the formality and aloof nature of the last meeting.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Jul 23, 2017 4:26:32 GMT -8
The boat rocked gently as it floated along the river, the small sail carrying it perpendicular to the flow of the water beneath. Genesis lay on his back--caught in the place where wakefulness and an endless barrage of thoughts meet. The squawk of a seagull called down to him from above, making his eyes open a little wider. It was little effort to locate and track the squawker as it flew overhead, and track it he would. Today would not be the day a bird showered him with gifts from above. During this moment of clarity, the first since last night, he remembered the other letter he had collected from his desk before departing.
He had indeed seen it, but had been too busy reeling from seeing his own handwriting on a note he couldnt recall writing to have read it. It was with him however, and reached into his front pocket to retrieve it. His haphazard folding job meant that one of the edges would sustain a small tear as he wrestled with the folds. "Gods," he murmured. Once it was open, he held it up to his eyes and read on.
So, that explosion from the deep did have something to do with the problems plaguing the city as of late. It was a relief to know that, as implied by the message from Trent, the shock wave probably had more to do with them ending the chaos then the chaos breeding more of itself. And whats more? Trent wanted him to train the Legionaries? Letlove scratched his temple and felt himself slipping back into the tides of thought.
The Arisalon people were many things, but if you strip away the pomp and frill, take away the magics and ancient knowledge bearing relics, they were duty personified. Thats what had kept the Empire alive for so long. Every man, woman, and child were not shy to the task. When Arisalon needed protection, you carried the shield. When enemies were at the gates, you struck them down. There was no, 'maybe later' or 'somebody else will handle it' in their culture. Which is why despite his own personal desire to complete his work at the Home, Trent's letter carried significant weight and purpose. Duty cannot be shirked to the next man. When Arisalon, new or old, came calling--you answered. He sat up in the boat, the rocking slightly increasing under protest of his sudden movement.
He looked to the north. His work there beckoned him. Whispered to him in the night. He was so close. He could feel it in his core. Wouldnt be long before he would be able to see it all to fruition. Next he looked south. New Arisalon still crested above the horizon. The city of new from the old. The place that understood what it was to be Arisalonian. It was home. And home had just came calling. He closed his eyes and felt his head sink. Duty came first. There was no question.
But... perhaps there would be a way to continue the work in the Ringed City? There were ways to create portals. Letlove himself once knew how, but had decided he preferred the less magical options of transport long ago. Made the journey feel more real to him. There would no doubt be tomes on gateway travel in the archives. During the day he could train the men and at night he could teleport to the Home and complete the research. It was the best possible solution when caught between duty and desire.
And perhaps things would be a little less... stuffy, upon his return. The letter had ended with 'Trent'. Men of their fold didnt just forget their titles. If they didnt use them, it was on purpose. He knew why things had been less than perfect when he first came to the city--it had been under siege from within. Enemies were everywhere and the leadership was hypersensitive to new people being added to the mix. Too many unknowns at the time. With the problem being resolved though? Things were going to be alright. He might soon even be able to experience New Arisalon as intended--a city of vast beauty.
A now resolute Genesis lowered the sail, grabbed the oars and made way for home. With good speed he could be there just before nightfall. After the third row, he felt a plop on his shoulder. He didnt even look. He knew what it was. He threw a dagger gaze at the bird circling above. "Gods..." was all he said as thought of that bird being eaten by a gryphon.
|
|
Amateur
gender: Male
status: offline
Alias: Black Hood
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties, and maintains peak physical youth as if he remains in his prime.
Clan/Family: House Kaliba
|
Post by Trent Kaliba on Jul 23, 2017 5:25:04 GMT -8
Trent tossed the sheet from his form as he rose from Milhin's bed, careful not to wake her- but not too careful. He had failed in escaping her chambers undetected more times than not. He'd even set his Recall enchantments, only to still have her wake up not long after he was gone.
This morning, he could not help but smile despite the grief that had so long gripped his heart. He had seen a glimmer of hope, just before the conclusion of these events. But to have it over? To have the family more or less safe?
Trent was uncomfortable admitting it. It felt almost a betrayal. He was happy. Right now, perhaps not when he dressed and faced the world. Perhaps not when her ghost appeared in his perception of the Palace halls. But right now, Trent Kaliba was happy. No great elder evil pressed upon his mind, nor his family. No cult threatened to tear down his Father's legacy. The riots had stopped and soon- the people would know just what had happened.
The prevalence of the Garden of Standing Stones had made it hard to miss. The singularity of magic that seemed to rip energy in waves from some location underground- it had been visible from anywhere in the city. The use of the Towers as conduits, the great storm, all of it. It was a visual spectacle. In the distance, the people already were celebrating through work. The city was recovering.
Now it was time for House Kaliba to do the same.
He looked for a long moment at Milhin's sleeping form, kissed her forehead and returned to his own rooms to dress. It would be a long day. Despite the celebration, the next several days would have to be spent renewing the vigor of the City and rebuilding its image. But first... this very morning, he'd need to find something in his old stores. Something just in case a weathered old general came knocking again.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Jul 23, 2017 9:26:33 GMT -8
Night was just beginning to rear itself as he pulled in, small dark blue waves playfully slapping the seawall adjacent to the piers. The dockmaster from the previous night, the one that had been outwardly unprofessional to him the last time he came ashore, ran out to the end planks and tossed the anchoring rope to Genesis. With a few short pulls from the other, the dinghy was secured and Letlove was on the deck.
"Apologies are in order general," the man stood a little more at attention, "I didnt know who you were the other evening. Then when I heard the guards were looking for a general Genesis Letlove on behalf of the Lord Magister himself... I pieced it together. I thought he... I mean you, were dead. Figured you were just some drifter wearing his name." The young man's voice was just that, young. Most men hereabouts spoke with an almost overwhelming confidence, but this one was a touch more timid in the moment. Letlove could sense the sincerity from him as well.
The old man waved his hand, "I appreciate the sentiment, but I assure you all is well. You would not be the first to believe I had moved on," he slapped the lad on the shoulder with a laugh. "Tell your friends that the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated and we will be even, how 'bout that?"
The other nodded rapidly, "Aye sir, I will spread the word!"
Genesis bowed his head just slightly to the other, adjusted his pack, and began the walk back to his home.
------------------------------
He tucked his now empty bag back into the closet. Thoughts of what the near future would bring filled his waking mind. Training the men would be easy enough. He had enough experience for that. Yet he did wonder how he would be received. His title of general was only a gentle hat tip to his service in the Arisalonian military. He had retired from service as a general officer, and that meant he got to keep his rank forever. No more salutes to receive or orders to give out, however. Just a title that told others of his accomplishments. It meant something to him, but would it mean anything to the men he was supposed to train? To some it would, no doubt. Some would have served with Arc and perhaps even himself at some point. They would not need convincing. Others though? While they would obviously follow the direction from Trent to listen and observe what Genesis was trying to teach them, some might be less inclined to heed a retired general... one many thought had died.
This would not be an issue of course. Letlove knew how to handle troops that didnt want to execute. Still though, he should speak with Trent and wait for him to make the announcement to the men he was tasked with training. He breathed deeply from the air flowing in through the window. Satisfied with his plan and course, he would wait out the night here. Perhaps Trent would be informed of his return and speak with him before daybreak? Perhaps Genesis would seek him out after breakfast? Time would tell. But it was late. If Trent was sleeping there was no reason for him to wake him now.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Aug 17, 2017 14:57:11 GMT -8
The training of the legions had not yet fully materialized. The threat that had been facing the city had been neutralized. While there may be yet another looming on the perimeter, it was not yet close enough to start brandishing weapons. This was the perfect time for training, Letlove knew from experience, but there were too many other things occurring simultaneously. For all of them.
Instead, he had focused on the upgrades to the forge; even submitting a request to have Trent authorize adjustments to the aqueduct to allow the falling water to turn a wheel used in the centrifugal separater. Using his knowledge in metallurgy and his modest hand in metalworking, he had even crafted the basic components of a stasis pod and a series of large ring structures that would be used in the gateway--his final masterwork.
Rather than clutter the palace, all of the material had since been transported to the High Stare Home using the ring gate Trent had given him. Next, he would busy himself with the construction of the gateway device; making periodic stops in the palace to ensure he wasn't needed.
It was going to be a long week.
|
|
Newbie
gender: Male
status: offline
Race: Arisalonian
Gender: Male
|
Post by Genesis Letlove on Sept 5, 2017 17:58:02 GMT -8
They had said it couldn't be done; the magic couldn't be rendered in such a rhythmic oscillation. So then it was that Genesis stood before something that simply shouldn't be. Countless hours of work, research, and development, on both sides of the Divide, had gone into this last attempt at redemption. He couldnt help but to wonder what his staunchest of critics within the city would have to say about the contraption that had claimed an inordinate amount of sweat from his brow. Such thoughts were foolish though, because they mattered not. Genesis had indeed defied the theoretical limits of magic and science. More specifically, where the two met.
Copper metals wrapped in a tight coil spiraled up the sides of the four towers he had erected in a box pattern. All towers were equipped with a highly polished reflective lens at its apex, each crafted in the fires of the forge he had built in New Arisalon. In the center of the box was a multi-axis ring chair. Constructed from the most conductive and durable alloy he was capable of forging, it was perhaps his most elegant creation to date.
When powered through the use of magic, the towers would accelerate the astral energy--speeding it to unrealized velocities before being redirected toward the center chair by the lenses. The rings would then spin, along different axes, around the chair. At that point, the switch would be made from magic to pure science. The accelerated energy would cause the rings to spin with enough force to displace the chair's occupant from the present. A 'bubble' would form to protect the user from the wave function collapses of the now. Freeing them from the restrictions of the ominous 'observer'. Once in this state, all he would have to do is walk out of the chair and along the stream of time until he reached his destination--where the real work would begin.
Given the ties the ring chair had to the ring gate Trent had given him, he would be able to teleport the materials he needed from the Home directly to him... But this would cause a flux in the astral inputs to the towers. A very real danger and concern. He would need another weaver of magic here with him, to maintain the flow while he worked. A dilemma with no easy answer.
|
|
|
welcome
Tyrannights is a free-form play by post RPG with a medieval fantasy setting. It was formed in 1997 by Shawn and Doreen with many different owners and versions over the years. Its current version is Tyran: Tales of Legends owned by Sinead and Laelia.
Tales of Legends is world and character building focused with and original setting. There are no forced character aps or registration, so come stay in Wendy's Tavern for a drink. Have you character serve one of two Tyran gods. Rule a city of your own, or serve Tyran's Queen. There are limitless possibilities for your character's story... so what are you waiting for?
Tyran is PG 13 and LGBT friendly.
site updates (dd/mm/yy)
13/11/18 - THERE ARE NEW GODS! please check out the temple folders for more details!
29/11/18 - Both temples have staff positions open for those interested in joining the temples
29/11/18 - We are currently editing our achievements and adding more! Please be patient as we fix this.
current events
TBA
Time: Ongoing
Where: TBA
Host: TBA
staff
|
|
|
|
|
|
---
Amika
x_Tempest_D
SW_Hotaru_SD
|
---
(Username may varry)
Joshua
Shelzi
Storyteller/Trent
Wulv
|
credits
Tyrannights/VampPub was originally created by Shawn and Doreen. Tyran: Tales of Legends remake is currently owned by Sinead and Laelia Content is copyrighted to Tyran unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney.
Banner Image was created by Karnage82.
|
