The Feast of Omantide

[Braden]

The room was full of laughter, the noise echoing around the hall. The room was two stories tall tapered in the middle the roof was clouded in the smoke from the roaring fires, the all itself was around a hundred feet in length an open hearth ran down about a third of the middle of the room. Warming the hall and roasting the days hunt, around eighty men and women were in the hall about a third of them servants and whores. Meat and ale was already being dished out to everyone in attendance, a harpist sat in the corner playing out a tune which was mostly drowned out by the noise of the crowd. It was Omantide, a three day long feast in celebration of the years harvest, only on Troska feasts like this were held and The First Kingdom had the best feasts.

Marcus sat in the adjoining hall, it was his audience chambers were he would recieve his subjects and hold councils of war. It was a larger room easily able to sit three hundred people but it did not have the same atmosphere as the much older feasting hall. He sat upon his thrown holding a small circlet of silver in his hand, a crown. The first his grandfather made when he delcared himself king, his father had made a much grander one for himself but Marcus preffered the smaller circlet. He preffered show his welth as a true warlord should, with gilded weapons shinning mail and golden armrings. The rest of his wealth he showered upon his men, a gift-giver was always followed and Marcus Artorson was known to be one of the most generious on Troska.

"My Lord, the last of the men are arriving."
"Thank you, Chesarn."

Chesarn was Marcus's personal bodyguard, he had been with him since he was just a child. He was one of the best fighters in the First Kingdom a beast of a man, his stare and low grumble making most take a step back. But with Marcus he was different, kind.

"Let me known once all of the Earl's are here. Oh and make sure that captured princess comes to."
"Yes, My Lord."

@Topher Ridge @Kath @TallestTree @Rae Anne Jarrus

 

[Kath]

Mathius Vadith was in an unusually happy mood. While he normally did not attend feasts, this was a celebration of the harvest the gods had granted Troska. The gods demanded that he be present in order to ensure they were given their proper tribute, and so far everything was going as it should. The gods were honored and the hall was alive with joy. He had come to the hall alone, as he commanded no followers and desired none. He was a servant of the gods and he was their instrument on Troska. He needed no others to do his duties. As such, he slipped into the hall among all the others without taking much notice. Very few members of the royal court actually knew who he was and Mathius preferred to keep it that way. It was easier to root out heathens if no one suspected that a descendant of Shia was in their mist.

Mathius did his best to mingle, sitting and talking with the other feast goers. He ate his meat and drank his ale, telling a bawdy story all while just picturing the different ways to torture and kill each and every one of those around him. If any even seemed inclined to heresy or disrespect of the gods, he would strike them down. The King would understand, he knew that Mathius was their will and instrument. He offered up a silent prayer during a lull in the feast, "Shia, guide our sword tonight, let us see your will be done."

His hand drifted to his brondir sword on his belt. He never went anywhere without it, though this night he left his light shield at home. The court of King Marcus was godly and he did not think it would be needed, but things were never dull on Troska. So he remained in his seat, feasting and waiting for a member of the court that knew him to arrive.

 

[Topher Ridge]

Ah it was finally Omantide, one of Strom's favorite times of the Troskan year. He couldn't wait to dig into some roast meat, and down some hearty Troskan mead. As he strode through the hall he pictured himself seated by the roaring fire surrounded by his fellow country...hopefully snuggled up to a beautiful woman...telling tales of his past battles. He sighed inwardly as his fun would have to wait. The king had called a meeting of his Earls, and it was never wise to ignore the king. As he strode through the hall on his way to his meeting however he sighted a familiar face, Mathius Vadith. He had fought alongside the man a few times and wasn't quite sure how feel about him. His skill did not lack as he seemed to be one of Troska's finest. Strom felt that at best though, the man was a bit unhinged and at worst...completely insane. Strom loved his gods and offered them daily prayers and offerings, especially because of the gift they had bestowed him. Mathius on the other hand....well let's just say even in his novice state Strom could sense the killing intent rolling off of him. Even so the king deemed him worthy to serve, and it was not his place to question his lord or the gods that had led the man here. He raised his hand in greeting and approached the man, Strom's light mail coat and weapons lightly rattling.

"Greetings Mathius! I hope you're finding a pleasant time this Omantide!" He gave the man a friendly pat on the back and warm smile. He waited for any reply the other man would give before saying, "I'll return shortly and join you, but for now I must meet with the King."

He bade the man farewell and headed back in his original direction. He knocked on the door leading to the audience chamber. The door was shortly opened by Chesarn whom Strom gave a small smile and head nod to. He had great respect for the man seeing how he was one of the few people in the King's court who out sized Strom himself.

"Greetings Chesarn! How fare you on this wonderful day of Omantide!" He flashed Chesarn his winning smile and shook his hand. He looked passed him and saw some of the other Earls gathered, mostly talking among themselves. "Hmmm seems almost everyone is here, you wouldn't happen to know what this is about eh Chesarn?" Strom had a few ideas, none of which where bad. As brutal as Marcus could be on the battlefield he always treated his subjects with respect and fairness. He nodded to Chesarn and joined his fellow Earls and waited for the bidding of his King.

 

[Rae Anne Jarrus]

Arwen lay across the bed, her almost white blonde hair rolling off from her shoulder as she slept. Suddenly rapid banging erupted from the other side of the door and it opened revealing a large man about three feet taller then her came in as she sat up on the bed remembering that she had been captured not long ago. He pointed to the closet on the far side of the room and then waited outside by the door waiting for her to get changed. Looking slightly confused, she stood up and went over to the closet he pointed to, opening the door. Inside there were clothes and shoes to wear. One thing confused her slightly, they were all dresses. She rolled her eyes shaking her head and pulled out a sleeveless blue dress that complimented her eyes

Spoiler: Arwen's dress

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Spoiler: Hairstyle

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She then changed into it and then softly knocked on the door to say that she was ready. Now whatever it was, she wasn't sure. But she had a feeling that she would end up face to face with more men and possibly the King.

The large man known as Chesarn opened the door and walked her to where the noise was eminating from. As they entered, the man walked away silently without her knowing and when she turned around, she noticed he was gone. "Well, that was odd..." she said under her breath as she went to sit down on bench not really noticing she wasn't too far away from the King. She watched around seeing everyone engage in conversation, others eating and drinking and some others sitting around relaxing. Two men Arwen noticed though were looking like they had known each other well. The one man seemed battle worn along with the other and she could sense the other's want to kill someone or something which sent chills down her back. She continued looking around thinking about her old kingdom. Everyone here seemed to be joyful and having more fun than they usually did on Naboo. Ever since her parents died, Naboo seemed to turn into a boring place. No one ever had fun except for the children in the streets and the politics were the same old boring junk.

She had remembered that this place was known as Troska. It was definitely more interesting than Naboo ever was. Naboo only had nature, these guys had fun and messed around.

 

[TallestTree]

Yarric entered the hall with a flourish. He was a man whos purpose preceded him. His face was not kind, fun or simple. It was cold, calculated and most of all plain. He rathered to let others assume his feelings as it would only cloud there mind while he took what he pleased.

He immedietely looked around at the general revelries being had in the hall and snorted his displeasure quietly. He like others of the kings court had been gifted by the gods and as soon as his concience would allow he searched out for strong minds. Those were the most entertaining to evaluate. Sadly however, many were too dissolved in the party to truly show such a prowess. He moved on.

His only reason for having shown up to such an event was his obligation to the king. He cared not for gods and there overbearing presence, but instead was almost religious in his search and conquest for personal power. This meeting was just another step in his path.

Yarric grabbed a goblet of something he presumed was alcoholic and walked to the less crowded section of the hall and peered out a window onto the many miles of land below and surrounding. "Soon... Soon this will be the soil under MY boots. All of Troskan culture will revolve around my name."

With that he simply sipped his drink and waited for the Great King to arrive.

 

[Braden]

The last few of the Earl's interned into the audience chamber, he wished to speak with them briefly before joining the feast. The door opened again and he could hear the laughter and smell the fresh meat which made his stomach rumble. Standing up Marcus placed the silver circlet on the seat behind him, he had left his mail at in his rooms and instead stood in fine leather armor, decorated with golden thread. His hair had been plated at random with gold and silver rings intertwined, jingling slightly as he moved and at his side as always was his sword Brekitǫnn, Wolf's-Tooth.

"Earl's, we have sat idly for to long. Raid's upon other lands and planets have made us rich." He flashed the gold torc around his neck and the rings on his fingers.
"Infamous." He rubbed the gold rings on his arms.
"And kept our beds warm at night with fresh meat." He gestured backwards and forwards his with pelvis.
"But, they have not made us stronger. I gather you here to make it known that once the end of year feast of Yaltide is over. We go to war."
Marcus paused, a few of the Earls let out a cry of support and everyone nodded in excitement.
"These war's will bring us more wealth than you can count, land to make us fat, women to keep us warm and enough honor to sit proudly next to the Goddess of War Valkora herself." He shouted the last statement.
"Now, I bid you to go, eat, drink, hump. For today is Omantide, but tomorrow we begin our preparations for War!"

Stepping away from the throne he approached Chesarn as his Earls moved back into the feasting hall.
"Clear a space at my table and bring the princess."

 

[Kath]

Mathius was taking a long gulp of ale when Strom approached. Mathius knew Strom to be godly and he had impressed him upon the battlefield though he could not claim they were friends. Mathius had no friends, but all the same smiled back. His smile would seem happy and warm, but in his eyes there was no joy. There never was, unless a god was talking to him at that moment. He rose to greet the man as befitting of his station and the mutual respect they shared.

"Yes, yes, greetings to you Earl Strom! This Omantide is going splendid for us, oh yes it is!" Mathius's hands constantly fidgeted and clasped each other, to him it was nothing but others took notice. "We must always honor the gods, yes, we must! We speak to them and they are happy on this night!"

Strom spoke of how the King had called a meeting of the Earls and how he would be back soon, "Oh yes, yes, yes! Do not keep our king waiting!"

As Strom strode off, Mathius noticed a new man enter the room. He had an air of arrogance, spite, and unholiness that Mathius had never seen before. That was when the voices spoke to him almost as a whisper, "Heathen....heathen.....heathen." He instantly hated the man and had a new goal of the night, to make him bow before the gods. In a whisper he offered up his own prayer to Shia, "Guide my blade Shia, let your will be done and let me strike this heathen down!"

As he approached the man there was no rattle of mail, only the sound of his boots and sword on his waist. Mathius wore no armor on the battlefield or in any fight, he left his fate to the gods. For he was their instrument. "You there! We have never seen you before, but we can sense it. Yes, yes, we know, we know! Let us ask...did you pay proper tribute on this night? Hmmm...do you love the gods as all of us do?" Mathius gestured to everyone in the hall. "Speak your name, so that Shia may know who Mathius sends him! Shia speaks to us and names you heathen!"

 

[Topher Ridge]

Strom listened intently as his King spoke. Agreeing with him, that it had been some time since the horns of war had rung out through the Kingdom. He gave a hearty laugh at the mention of warm beds. He thought to the nights of companionship after his last battle, ladies he charmed into his chambers rather than forced. He gave one final cheer at the Kings final comment and he moved with the other Earls to leave.

As he stepped aside he noticed Yarric, one of his fellow Earls, and gave the man a quick nod and a smile. It was half hearted though as Strom didn't care much for the man. He too was gifted and he wouldn't question Marcus' reason for keeping him near, but the man always gave Strom a clouded feeling. As if given a chance; Yarric would stab the king and take his throne at any moment. Strom just gave a mental shrug, assuming the King had his reasons. He moved into the feasting hall only really wanting to talk to the man if he had to.

He smiled as he stepped back out in the feasting hall and grabbed a leg of turf pheasant and a pint of something strong to drink. As he settled in he noticed a striking girl and a blue dress being approached by the king. He chuckled to himself as the king always seemed to pick to the beauties. Though as he looked closer he realized that it was the princess they captured. He talked to her later, for now he wanted to enjoy himself as much as possible. He even raised his glass to the king.

"All Hail the King! May his reign be long, as our stomachs are full on this Omantide!!"

 

[Rae Anne Jarrus]

Arwen pulled a strand of her lightly colored blonde hair over her shoulder and listened as the king made a speech. There were yells, nodding, and murmurs of agreement. After his speech was made, everyone lingered around, some making it to the food table and others congregating around the fire to talk to one another.

She didn't notice the king coming over to her when she saw a man looking at her. She blushed and looked away, somewhat shy and then saw the king walking towards her. Arwen stood up, smoothing the skirt of her dress down as he came over.

 

[TallestTree]

Yarric watched as the king spoke and a smirk formed on the very edge of his mouth before it was quickly erased. War and power grabs are what he lived for; dreamed of infact.

Soon after, a man whos mind swirled with anger and something undefineable, almost seperate to him entirely walked up to Yarric and questioned him on his holiness, much to Yarric's extreme displeasure.

Turning to face him and in the process getting quite close together Yarric spat out, "Me? Heathen? Is that the way you would speak to a fellow earl? My the forwardness is quite.... Amusing.... but i must say quite impolite. I am Yarric, earl from the west. And no, I have not paid my respects to these gods you speak of and praise so highly! I care not for such petty stories. My only interest has to do with the king."

 

[Braden]

Marcus sat at the head table as he watched Chesam bring the princess over to his table. He stayed seated, before him was a plate of meat and bread and a horn of ale. Taking a large gulp from the horn, he gestured the Princess closer.

"Well princess, you seem rather over dressed for the occasion?" He jest.

The first kingdom was not a pretty place for pretty things, it was a country so obsessed with war that everything was only made for a purpose. Even this very feasting hall, it was a combination of the old ways and new modern techniques. Wooden pillars lined the side of the wall spaced about ten foot apart but between them was solid metal with only a textured paint hiding the shinning metal. The hearth in the center provided most of the light, but still along the entire edge of the room small lights were sat in the floor so that no corner was to dark.

 

[Kath]

Mathius was enraged! How dare this man speak of the gods as though they were just stories. They spoke to him, visited him. Mathius was their instrument on Troska and would not stand for such blatant disrespect. As soon as Yarric finished speaking, Mathius drew his brondir long sword and flung off his cloak to reveal his bare chest. The cloaks hid his well muscled body and he was often underestimated as a result. Everyday he trained and every day he hunted those who disrespected the gods. As far as Mathius was concerned, this Omantide had just gotten a hell of a lot better.

Mathius held his arms spread, inviting Yarric to strike. His long sword was in his right hand, his left an open palm. He raised his voice for all in the hall to hear, "The descendant of Shia and instrument of the gods, name you Yarric, a heathen! Let all know of your betrayal of our sacred deities! We are no earl, we are servants of the gods and they tell us that you..must die." His voice seemed different, much deeper and darker, yet there was a hint of joy in it. Mathius loved what he did, and he knew the gods were with him.

 

[Topher Ridge]

As Strom downed his third pint of ale he heard the commotion off to his right. He side as he saw Mathius threatening Yarric and calling the latter a heretic. He sighed and stood and approached the pair who looked like they were moments away from bloodshed.

"Gentlemen please, there's no reason for blood to be spilt on this holy day." He looked at Mathius. "In fact you do the gods a great insult by trying to war on this day."

He picked up another pint of ale and drank it down in one gulp.

"Awwww, what say you we find another way to settle this dispute. What say you my lord!" He looked to the king hoping to avoid deaths on this celebration.

 

[Rae Anne Jarrus]

Arwen was watching around until Chesarn came over and had her come with him as a spot was cleared for her at the King's table. She sat down looking the table up and down quickly before turning back to the King, who had motioned for her to move closer. Arwen moved closer as he had motioned for her to do so and she listened as he started speaking. He spoke of her being over dressed and a slight blush flared up on her cheeks, making them a very light pink upon her freckled face.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, if I would of had a little more of a notice and a warning about the dresscode, I would have been in my normal attire."

Her normal attire was her Jedi/Rebel outfit that she wore quite a bit. Plus usually when called to a party, when she still had parents, she was spoiled and she was told that big fancy dresses made the best impression. Fortunately Arwen took a detour off of that route and went for a more princess and plain style than her mother would probably appreciate. She decided that she should open up slowly, so she wouldn't seem like a crazy person.

"My mother would think otherwise. If they were even alive, my mother would say I look too plain. I just saw it in the closet, pulled it out and put it on because I grew a liking to it."