Medieval TEP

Roleplay Library
1

((The OOC thread is located http://z1.invisionfree.com/forums/The_East_Pacific/index.php?showtopic=6665))

“Beautiful flower for a beautiful vixen?” the gypsy shopkeeper shouted across his caravan in the busy Provinsk marketplace. He kept his distance from the crowd, as he knew very well with such packed numbers he could easily be swept away by it, only to return to his stand by noontime ravaged by looters and various vagabonds.

The vixen in question made her way to his stand and carefully gripped the rose. It was obvious she was somehow connected to the lord of the city-state, as she wore a silken dress of red, white and black, probably from the north where silk was plentiful. Provinsk, as it was, was a melting pot of the continent, something which tenants played to weary travelers and pretty much anyone who would trade with them. The vixen knew this.

“Just one rose?” she said with a smile. More signs of royalty connections - long golden hoop earrings hanging from one ear, her right ear, the ear The Almighty supposedly whispered into. And if it was an ear the Almighty used, it was only natural to adorn it with fine jewelry, adorning his presence with just a little bit of gold, though not too much as to make her appear greedy. “Well, alright. How much for this particular rose in question?”

“Eh?” he asked.

She cleared her throat, avoiding the mass of species behind her. How much?"

“Two veskonos! I give a discount because the Almighty has blessed our family with a child! A boy!”

She made a half-smile. “I see, very well.” She carefully reached into her purse, a difficult task, as there were presumably thieves everywhere, even those who would take from nobility. Still, she found two coins and handed it to the man as the tenant next to him, watching the sale, shoved various crucifixes and rosaries in her face.

“…Made of the finest crystals from the mines of Skendia! The clearer they are, the more clearly your prayers will be heard, milady! Some of the funds I make go directly to the local church in this city!”

Another pushed his wares to her, seeing as she was an easy sale. “Finest china from the north! Beautiful pattern, eh? Surely it is exotic!” His dress indicated he was a gypsy from the eastern Vekaiyun lands, and his short fur, faded from the sun, only affirmed that.

She shook her head and backed up, only to be swept into the crowd again, pushed forward amongst the various noises and shouts across the morning sky. Her roses, what were left of them, were clutched in her wiry hands. Hopefully what was left of them would make it back to her manor, tucked in the less-busy eastern section of the large city surrounded in a sea of green.

2

Arriving in the citadel, a somewhat secluded section of the city where all government and governmental officials were held, the vixen walked carefully to the small palace located in the heart of the citadel. Still adorned from charms of past rulers, faded crescent moons adorned the floors of the very mathematical-inspired structure, covered in small tiles as water ran through its structure, providing some form of serenity. Her destination stopped at the sight of the presiding lord of Provinsk, Vinsent Elavro.

“Milord,” she said with a curtsy.

“Elana,” he greeted. “The Almighty keep you.”

“And you too. What news of Eldura?”

He frowned. “They’re not budging. It seems their bid for the capital of this loose nation is too important for them to supply extra cavalry to Provinsk. ‘We cannot spare a single body’ they say. Meanwhile we sit on the edge of five different groups bidding for possession of the central city.”

Elana sighed. “The old saying holds true. Whoever controls Provinsk controls trade. Everyone wants us. But the other Vekaiyun cities are not batting an eye?”

“Not one, as of yet. We are still waiting on riders from Ye’leli, but their situation is no different than ours in some respects. I doubt they’ll supply any support.” He turned to a recently-constructed stained glass window. “What is worse is the presiding bishop is demanding another cathedral to be built in the southern sector. His rationale is the more devoted Provinsk is, the stronger we will be to ward off attacks from barbarians. I do not even know if this city will be in Vekaiyun hands during construction.”

“Almighty,” she replied. “The city has paid dearly for its lax in devotion already. What are we to do?”

“Increase taxes, for start. The church will not leave us alone until we make some sort of commitment to bring some sort of stability to the devotion of the city. We may have to put to effort some type of program to remove the pagan presence.”

The lady looked to the ground. She hated the idea of taking people out of the city, but was torn with the crisis for devotion. Sure, most cities of Vekaiyu were tolerant of other beliefs, but only Provinsk had a very large non- Vayan Catholic population, so large it was nearly twice that of the state’s religion.

“We have not much choice. Look at the other cities of Vekaiyu, and how well they are doing. There is a curse on Provinsk, I am certain.”

“But it is a last resort!”

“Of course it is a last resort!” the lord barked. “But it can’t hurt either. I will be traveling to Packilvania in an attempt to secure our southern borders, seeing as Eldura could care less. I leave tonight, and leave you to govern my city in the meantime. I expect to see a stable city when I return!” The lord stormed out of the room as he was followed by a collection of guards.

The lady, on the other hand, focused on the intricate tile floor, only to walk closer to one of the waterways in the room. She set the flowers in the water, and watched them sail out of the palace.

3

Evening set across the large city as the sun disappeared behind the exterior walls. The gates, however, remained open, as a gypsy caravan from the east rode in. Over one hundred carts and wagons had to be present, all to be quickly inspected by a guard and allowed passage into the city. Naturally, some would be rejected for one reason or another, and while it was widely known Provinsk was wary of the sick and old, most went with the rumor that all Vekaiyun towns were reluctant to allow large amounts of non-vulpine people within their walls.

“Ah, Provinsk,” one of the vulpine gypsies spoke as their caravan crossed over the gates into the city. “We meet again.”

“You’ve been here before?” another asked him.

“Of course! It was under a different nation back then though. Didn’t take too kindly to us gypsy folk, or grass bastards as they used to call us.” He strongarmed the bridle on his horse as the animal stubbornly scuffed its hooves across the dirt. “It seems every time I visit this place it’s under a different government, ruled by different people, guided by some religion. But one thing always remains the same: they’ve always been cold when it comes to us.”

The group moved across the main street as people periodically shut their windows to block out the shouts of the gypsies and torches they carried. “How are we all going to fit in here? The old caravan hasn’t even left yet!”

“Give it time. The jug that is Provinsk is only half full, and ripe with rich folk. We’ll be in and out of here in no time.”

“I hope so,” another replied, “Or we’ll probably have to find work elsewhere.”

4

Sûlâs Mââr was the other half of the massive Maar Brothers banking operation. He had come to Provinsk to manage bonds and accounts for purchasers of Dovakhanese mineral riches. The young Keral-based banker counted his coin and managed the booming business from an ornate townhouse right next to the Vayan Catholic diocese, where he also managed accounts in Dovakhanese silver. His other most favored activity was composing ornate love poetry to a sweetheart in Apolis. Ariana was related to the khan-elector of Tschmusch-Dovakhan, therefore probably out of his league, but he had not been able to get her out of his head since their chance meeting at the imperial exposition. He wrote to her often:

— Begin quote from ____

I am a pagan and a worshipper of love: the creed of Kardakh I do not need;
Every vein of mine has become taunt like a wire, the holy man’s girdle I do not need.

Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this no medicine does he need.
If there be no pilot in our boat, let there be none:
We have god in our midst: the sea we do not need.

The people of the world say that Sulas Maar worships idols.
So he does, so he does; the people he does not need, the world he does not need.

— End quote

Little did he know, however, that the heartsick emperor himself would soon have something to say about this…

5

Approaching the city from the other side, Drannas Berstoviy managed to catch a glimpse of the long caravan as it trailed its way into Provinsk. Pulling up his cloak against the growing night cold, he made his way to a street near the more dubious end of the city.

Finding the right door, he knocked three times quickly, then two slow, then ran away when the shutter in the door opened. When it closed again, he re-approached and knocked the tune to a local nursery rhyme. The shutter opened for a second time, but Berstoviy did not run. A voice on the other side said ominously “Enter. Brother.”

Berstoviy walked through the open doorway into a circular room. Around the walls were men in similar cloaks.

“Greetings, Brother.” They said, in unison.

“Greetings.” Replied Berstoviy. “I bring great news. Our plans are coming together. We are almost ready to begin the process. Praised to gracious one!”

“Praised to the gracious one.” Replied the brothers, in unison.

“Now.” continued Berstoviy. “Let us get to work.”

6

Yvency Rano continued to guide his horse with its bridle as he moved into the city, the caravan slowing down as it neared a large bonfire set up in the middle of the road. There, dancing was apparent, but he rarely ever attended such things. After all, his wife had died and left him childless, so the middle aged puppet maker had little to live on for, as his legacy and whatever crafts he made would be lost with the sands of time, like the hundreds of thousands before him whose line would run out.

Still, he was considered a type of leader in his small group, now united with possibly hundreds more, conglomerating like a snowball rolling into the melting put of Provinsk. This was especially true with the children, who loved his acts and the characterizations and demeanor of his puppets. Often they portrayed various historical figures across the old Vekaiyu, from gentle and charming to hard and wicked. But his storytelling was dynamic and effortless, the sign of a tried and true gypsy. They seemed to come to life, all from the crossbars held in his calloused hands, overworked from thousands of days spent carving from the hardwood of the ikvu tree.

As he set his walking stick aside, he leaned against his wagon and watched people dance. There was always a trend with such dances. The old would sit and play music or watch. The younger adults were expert dancers and would flicker like the fire in front of them. Teenagers danced alone or with each other. The children were reduced to running. Littlest children, sleeping. But it was a sight to be seen. Gypsies, while mostly Vayan Catholic themselves, clung to the pagan beliefs like a soft blanket, dressed in colorful wooden masks with grotesquely large eyes, said to tell the difference between truth and lies, and wearing old dresses or skirts wrapped in rags. And, of course, like an old dream, the young males would sit uncomfortably close to the fire in hopes of seeing the now defunct Liviala, whose beauty, according to the old pagan priests, could be seen in the dancing flames, moving to her own movements.

Yvency was too old to believe in that wives tale anymore. He was a Vayan Catholic, but didn’t know very much about the faith, just that he believed in it and believed in the Almighty. His puppets would on occasion tell a religious story, but they were often vague, as he couldn’t read despite having various religious texts… somewhere in his wagon. Whatever he did know was from stories he heard as a kid, passed down from generations of illiterate people in his group. Sometimes he would stop in a cathedral of a Vekaiyun town or city, but intimidation would get the best of him, and he more or less smiled and nodded at the chants and various readings.

The fox grabbed a bottle of mead and poured himself a glass, sliding down the side of his wagon until he sat on the brick-and-dirt road. “Sleep. I need sleep. I have to watch my wares… can’t sleep on the job tomorrow.” He poured himself another glass, hoping the alcohol would get to him and wake him up just in time to see the first glimmer of sunlight peer over the horizon.

7

Lower Territories “FPS”

A crying woman sat watching in horror as her husband was strapped into a rack. A hooded man asked him quite calmly if he was willing to repent for his sins against the Lord and convert himself to Packolosism.
“No, never would I go against the will of the gods. Your false god will fall before the might of the island gods!”

The hooded man sighed.

“Very well.”

He turned the crank and repeated the question. This happened a few times until the hooded man grew frustrated and finally ended it with a sharp turn of the wheel. The woman shrieked as he husband fell to pieces.

“Bring the woman next” The hooded man said annoyed. It was going to be a long day.

OOC Hey Todd, You care if I send missionaries into your lands? The theocracy is spreading its religion :stuck_out_tongue:

8

Entrance of Shan Li, year 3499, of the Shivat calendar

Yong Tao, crossed the door of the thousand dragons, in Shan Li, and crossed the harmony bridge, then he want along the avenue in direction to his room in the inn, near the suburbs of the city, he knew what could happen to him if the guards, they would torture him for information and then kill him in public, but he knew what is role in that political play was, to kill the god emperor.

He crossed another bridge and then he started to tun, even rounded by thousands of people, the secret police discovered him!, he started to run, he didn’t knew how did they discovered him, what inly one thing was true, they have, so he went to the worst place of the city “Rats Town”, he hidden himself in an old and abandoned house, hoping that they wouldn’t find him, while orating to the great snake god, well after all it was his god, the assassins god.

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