... now they must watch their abundance of luxuries fall away, making room for the tools of survival, and witness this time of relative peace wither into the same fears that harper's ballads had warned them about for generations.
 
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 A New Dynasty

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Nemmy



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Join date : 2014-08-01
Age : 24
Location : Flying through the skies

PostSubject: A New Dynasty   Thu Aug 20, 2015 6:05 pm


Several men and women gathered around Roain and the map on the table in front of him while elsewhere in the hold came moans from the wounded or angry screaming about the state of their affairs. Roain was going to change everything about this cursed hold every corrupt noble, every corrupt merchant, all of the trade and economy.

"First thing is first. I want the quickest runners in the hold out sending for healers. We lost a lot of men and women in this battle and more wounded, let us not kill more good people than is necessary, we will need all their help in the coming turns." It had taken two turns of planning just for this one evening of battle. Many of the men and women controlling the gates had been persuaded to their side, some of the guards and the batallion had also become traitors to the original masters. Roain and the army of people he had trained and armed broke through the gates of the minor hold in the dead of night, splitting off and rounding everyone in the hold up into the largest room of the keep while Roain went and found the Holder and his only legitimate son. They fought hard but Roain took the heir's life first to make the man watch while Roain killed his child.

Now, early into the red dawn of the next day, Roain had to pick up the pieces and he knew that he would not be sleeping for the next several days. He pointed at all of the cotholds and farms in their area. "I want runners dispatched to the villages to let them know of the coup and that no taxes shall be incurred for the next turn." Roain stood up and looked around the small council room with distaste, ripping down the decorations from the walls and pointing at the distasteful "throne" the old holder had put up lined with gold leaf. "Get the gold off of that and start using it to buy grain from other holds. I want a ledger in here by morning tomorrow."

Next to tackle... calming down the people. This hold was a mess. Roain walked out of the council room and into the dining caverns and waited for the clamor to die down. "I know things are confusing right now. You were taken from your homes late last night and have been here since then. We have taken over Waterhole-" he always cringed inwardly at the name of their minor hold "because of the corruption in the Holder's circle. You all have a chance to pack up and leave the hold... but know that a series of reforms is coming... and things will change. For now, go home and rest. It will be a busy few months." He left the room and made his way to the kitchens. A few things down, a hold full of them to go.
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PostSubject: Re: A New Dynasty   Mon Sep 07, 2015 3:05 pm

Amilyn





Amilyn paced around her newest invention. She made two complete circles before she stopped to examine it. It was cubical in shape and stood to nearly the height of her hips. Twin curved, hornlike protrusions adorned it, one on the opposite side of the other. A third facing, perpendicular to the horns, was possessed of three pairs of twin wheels, each a fingerlength in diameter. The machine was sculpted metal. All of her best work was. Metalworkings were shiny and stylish. It provided added durability when being shuffled about, which was a plus. It also served to keep any mildly catastrophic failures more or less contained. Often it fell more on the less side, but any degree of protection was better than none regardless of what customers claimed metallic shrapnel did to their property. One could not win on all fronts.

The woman moved around to the other side to get in a differing vantage point. The box was smooth. She had spent the last Sevenday buffing out any unseemly bulges. She had painted it. Red, of course, with a silver trim and horns. It had been polished to a perfect shine. As perfect a shine as she could manage, anyway. She had used a wax-based polish which helped not only with the subtly reflective surface but helped to make it waterproof. That was an important aspect as the contents were none too fond of the stuff.

It was that stuff –unstable firestone- that had brought her all of the way out to Keroon in the first place. It was not a readily available commodity. The Miners and the Dragonriders generally claimed ownership over the whole lot. Finding the right people who were willing to deal in illicit goods had become a skill of the Smith’s. Metals were high up on that list as well. While not necessarily illegal, it was frowned upon to go through the limited resource as quickly as she did. One could only melt the stuff down and reuse it so many times before it became a hassle to burn out the compounding impurities. However what had begun as a problem had resolved itself in to a useful network of underground traders. She benefited from it more often than not. And that brought her back to why she had come. She required the unstable mineral to power her device: a large-scale wood whittler / leg shaver, though why Jungi had wanted one so large she could not fathom. The forearm-length blades --concealed beneath the horn covers-- were bound to shave a little too closely for comfort. But, it did not matter much to her. A sale was a sale.

The Journeyman Inventress left her cube in the room that she had taken up temporary residence in earlier that Sevenday and headed toward the dining chamber to get a drink. She had spent much of the past few days away meeting with her contacts on the down-low in-between the lands owned by a trio of minor holdings. She only just gotten back and had yet to quench her thirst. Now that her newest invention was safely stored away, she could do just that. She made her way past a group of people carrying on about whatever it was that their meeting was about. She wondered if any of them was her daughter. Tamisyn had been left with her father, the stewart, shortly after she had been born. Amilyn had never really had much to do with the kid; she would not have recognized the young woman even if she saw her. That probably made her a less than stellar mother. Oh well, that did not matter either. She was thirsty.

She stepped by Roain, utterly unconcerned by him also, and in to the dining chamber. “Yo, Kitchen Peoples,” she called as she stepped through the door. “Drink-Drink!” She clapped her hands twice. They ought to be able to piece together the meaning of her order. She was after all being rather blunt about her intention.




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