concoction


Outer Ward
Castle Anvard


Lanisen makes his way through the market in the early afternoon. Despite the sunny day, he’s wearing a scarf and a jacket. He’s got bags under his eyes and looks a little pale.

Deonyc walks along the marketplace aside a fellow guardsman, they are both in uniform but greeting people as they meet.

Dalia slips out from the stables, dusting off her dress and brushing a hair behind her ear.

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midsummer’s eve


Kennels
Castle Anvard


Lanisen is kneeling on the rug in front of the empty fireplace with an enormous wolfhound, brushing out the dog’s thick fur. Tufts of black fur have begun to accumulate in piles around them, and the hound looks extremely content, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

Haft raps on the door, sticking his head in and seeking out Lanisen as his eyes adjust to the light in the room.

Lanisen glances up. He gets quickly to his feet, brushing fur off his shirt.

Continue reading midsummer’s eve

pecans and puppy-persuasion


Outer Ward
Castle Anvard


Lanisen has paused at a woodcarver’s stall just inside the outer curtain wall, considering a charm in the shape of a daisy.

Sehsis enters the market along with Nasrin, apparently in conversation, “-Well he ended up insulting her, though in fairness she -was- rather large. Even so”

Nasrin is laughing at the tale. “You can’t be serious, he actually said that to her?”

Continue reading pecans and puppy-persuasion

fickle fury


Andale Crossroad
Eastern Archenland


You stand at a busy crossroad outside Andale. The main road curves up from the
forest to the southwest, heading into the town to the east. A less-traveled
road winds up into the mountains to the west, and a smaller track descends into
a canyon to the north.

South of the crossroads is heavily forested, the main path disappearing into
the trees to the southwest. At the southeast corner of the crossroads stands a
tall walnut tree.


Sehsis does not seem moved by this, “Quite frankly I am not surprised, a stubborn child like you, it is said after all that as a single withered tree, if set aflame, causes a whole forest to burn, so does a rascal child destroy a whole family.”

Reina gasps, stumbling back a step, eyes wide. “So does a rascal child destroy a whole family? I have not… how dare… I never destroyed… that would be my father, you… you… you… aaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!” A shriek of fury erupts from the girl before him, and without another word, eyes wild with a hurt and rage so profound as to be far too old for her, she launches herself toward him, one arm coming up, fist balled.
>>> Reina swings awkwardly at Sehsis with her fist barely making contact. Sehsis doesn’t appear to be too hurt by the blow.

Lanisen comes up the road from the direction of the town, limping slightly, red-faced with the heat. He keeps to the side of the road with the most shade, and it takes a moment for him to register the altercation going on up ahead. When he does, he pulls a quick breath and picks up his pace, hurrying toward them.

Continue reading fickle fury

anvard under siege


At the Fork
Eastern Archenland


The path divides here, one fork curving west toward Anvard and the other continuing to the northeast toward Andale. The trees are very thick here, with dense patches of thorny briar filling in the gaps between trunks, and it is impossible to see very far down the road in any direction. Sweet raspberries can be found in the thickets on either side of the path in summertime, and the forest is noisy with wildlife.


(OOC note: the events of this RP follow chapter 11 of The Horse and His Boy, and a more complete log can be found here. This log contains crowd and battle scenes which have been edited and color-coded for clarity and readability.)

Lune, at the head of the hunting party, keeps his horse at a brisk canter. He draws up outside the gates and turns to face the company. “The town must be warned.” He surveys them briefly, grim-faced and calculating, and says, “Sir Colin.”

Colin guides his mount to King Lune’s side. “Sire?” He asks, his expression serious.

Dar follows close behind his sovereign, his own expression sober to the point of severity. He reins Celeres in and listens intently.

Lanisen draws up as well, handling his horse with far more ease than two months ago at this time, and glances from the king to Colin.

Continue reading anvard under siege

wreckage


The Bird and Baby’s Tavern
Coghill
Southeastern Archenland


Sehsis shakes his head, amused despite himself, “The latter is what I aim to do, as for the former, I do have a wife as you know- And this reminds me” He takes a letter from his satchel and hands it to her “I was back in Calormen for a short while and have this for you, before I forget”

Abrielle smiles brightly and takes the letter greedily. “Thank you! How was your wife?”

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hounds and knights


The Bird and Baby’s Tavern
Coghill
Southeastern Archenland


Lanisen enters the tavern, letting in a burst of cold air, and closes the door behind him. He stamps on the threshold for a minute, wiping his boots on the mat, and crosses immediately to the fire, stripping off his gloves as he goes. He holds his hands out to the blaze and flexes his fingers to try to warm them up.

Sehsis shivers as the door opens, moving to a table further away and closer to the fire.

Continue reading hounds and knights

foreigners and foxes and wolves


The Bird and Baby’s Tavern
Coghill — Southeastern Archenland


This room echoes with a nearly constant din as voices rise and fall in conversation. An atmosphere of warmth and cheer predominates, and the walls have been painted a dark red. There are several tables for diners; many line the wall to provide for more private discussions. A board hangs in a highly visible location; it pays tribute to the history of the dining room and includes sketches of some of its more well known denizens. A menu, written out by hand, indicates what selections are being served. If the aromas emanating from the kitchen beyond are any evidence, the food is certain to please. In the back is a smaller room where isolated gatherings can be held.


A son of adam in Calormene attire (Sehsis) enters the tavern, quickly closing the door behind himself and brushing away some of the raindrops, muttering under his breath about the annoying unpredictability of northern weather.

Lanisen sits at a table near a window, hands cupped around a hot mug of tea, weather-watching and people-watching. He glances toward the Calormene with mild interest, careful not to stare too much.
Continue reading foreigners and foxes and wolves