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Welcome to the world of Fortuna, a land of fantastic proportions. This is an original fantasy roleplay that takes place in a world developed over nearly a decade of work and collaboration. We aim to encourage all participants to have a hand in the stories of the characters here, and the world around them. Your choices are key - so make them with pride. You decide who wins the wars, you decide who becomes King, the world is ours, and together we will bring it to life!
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 2, 2016 10:05:05 GMT -7
Mid-Evening on the 12th The Scales of Judgement, 5152
Lord Markus Woodrow's Study the Woodrow Estate in Eersaeb, Submiere
As much as Markus spent days of his time traveling, enjoyed the shift of a ship on the seas, and enjoyed even more making connections with those who could better his position -- he always missed home. The air was fresher in Submiere. He could smell it the moment they crossed into Sumish waters, the way that the magic of the water sprayed at the ship's windows, the way the light refracted to rainbows in his suite. The waters were easier for ships here, they cut through with ease, with speed.
The moment he felt the shift, he had gone up on deck - something he wouldn't do in the sour-smelling ports of Acheron. Those aboard the travelling vessel would point and whisper, wondering if that could truly be the Lord Markus Woodrow - and of course it was. He would greet them with a smile, would offer charismatic words, and they would be giddy with the idea that even a labourer could be granted such a meeting with the Lord of Eersaeb. When he had managed to greet all who wished his attentions, he made his way to the front of the ship, where the fresh wind whipped through his long hair and filled his nostrils with its sweetness. He couldn't yet see Eersaeb, but he knew the exact distance from this point - he had sailed it many times over.
When the ship had made port, Lord Woodrow was the first to be granted exit. He was escorted to an impressive chariot, and he would wave obligingly at those excited peasants. He had some spending coin left in his pockets from the trip - coin that meant nothing to him, as most of his purchases were on paper - and showered it through the windows onto the early evening streets. A small thank you to his people for awaiting his return so loyally. He requested that the carriage driver detour through Tehodis' patrol route, knowing she would still be on shift, and used it as a moment to remind himself of her. Remind himself that, while her employ had been a political scheme, he had grown so fond of her. So fond in fact, that he did not wish to wait until the next morning to speak with her again. The carriage driver had been given a sealed letter to offer her as they passed through. She would know he was in the carriage, but the curtains would make it impossible for her to smile at him. He wanted their greeting to be face to face, not through a carriage window.
Finally, his estate was in sight.
His hired servants would gather his things and ensure they found their homes. He would find his own. His study. The room smelled of applewood and sea salt, and always felt more like home than any other room of his estate. The desk was an antique, crafted by the finest elvish craftsmen of Niseca - a gift to his great, great grandfather. All of the items on it held some kind of value to his family tree, and some held value only to him. He took to his chair, reveling in the comfort it offered, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair as he relaxed for the first time this month. He casually watched the massive aquarium, enjoying the glimmer of the Glitz that wandered so happily through the well-conditioned water. Their glow reflected on the walls, and he might have fallen asleep at his desk if it weren't for a knock on the door.
His eyes shifted to the hand-crafted clock on his desk. When had it become so late? It was too early for Tehodis... But it was right on time for someone more important.
"Come in, Vincent," He allowed, standing to pour himself a drink from the bar he had hidden within a globe, "I don't suppose I can pour you one, my friend."
Last Edit: May 1, 2019 10:01:08 GMT -7 by Markus Woodrow
Post by Vincent Laeretti on Dec 2, 2016 23:42:19 GMT -7
Vincent woke up that morning feeling rather chipper. Embarrassing as it was, he often felt as much on the days when Lord Woodrow was due to return from some long trip, and he similarly felt as much whenever he himself was due to return from a mission as well. While the two of them often stood on various formalities, Woodrow was still family as far as Vincent was concerned. He was sometimes akin to a brother, other times like an uncle, and still others (he'd laughingly admit) like a child. He often spared mentioning that last one to his Lord, lest the man become mortified by his own moments of occasional immaturity. It's not like it mattered much; Lord Woodrow always had his act together when it counted, so the occasional lapse of petulance was hardly terminable to his competency as the Lord of Eersaeb.
At any rate, Lord Woodrow was returning today and the whole of Submiere was likely to be glad for it. He was a much-loved man by the public, and Vincent was sure there'd be peasant swarming the streets to catch a glimpse of him. He would, of course, avoid attempting to meet him as he disembarked, and instead was making his way along lesser-known routes to the man's estate. Vincent was eager to stop in and say hello, to bring him up to date on the various happenings of his Fiefdom while he'd been away, the progress of his favorite New Recruit, and to simply shoot the breeze as they so often did. Vincent and Markus infrequently had the opportunity to just indulge in pleasant conversation about nothing; the men and women Lord Woodrow usually spoke to often had the context of some business or political arrangement, or there was some division of status which held them at arm's length. The people Vincent usually spoke to, meanwhile, often had no idea who he was due to him being undercover for some assignment.
Vincent considered for a moment that he and Woodrow may have been each other's only genuine friends in the world, and he wondered if perhaps that was a bit sad.
He scoffed, chuckling under his breath. He and Lord Woodrow would have time for friends and a less-guarded social life once they had succeeded in eliminating all the scum from the world. Until then, they were getting along just fine the way they were now, so there was no reason to dwell on it.
He finished making his practiced trek through the familiar shortcuts in Lord Woodrow's manor, making his way to the man's study and offering a knock on the door. He was unsurprised to hear Woodrow inviting him in by name; there were few individuals who would be permitted to disturb his Lordship so soon after a voyage, and among those few there was only one who would be allowed to see him so soon.
"As always, I appreciate the invitation," Vincent replied to Lord Woodrow after entering the room, closing the door softly behind him. He held his hand up in decline of Woodrow's offer, and gave the man a good-natured roll of his eyes. "But as always, I'll abstain from the drink."
He pulled himself up a chair, seated across the desk from Markus, and released a large yawn. He didn't normally make a habit of openly displaying signs of fatigue, but this was a room where he could relax. "There are a number of things I'd like to bring you up to speed on, Lord," he said, relaxing into his seat while Lord Woodrow sipped his drink. "But first I'd be interested to hear how your trip to Acheron went."
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 3, 2016 12:48:07 GMT -7
"A mixed bag, really," Woodrow sighed as he took a seat at his desk, the ice in his glass clinking with every movement. His every step was relaxed - a rarity outside of his meetings with Vincent. He was usually purposeful. Now he was just a man. "Christel Lirrae refused our aid, and sent word along to Madam Maytal before I could reach Liesdro that their alliance would be at risk if she agreed to my aid - pathetic, really. She couldn't afford our aid, and didn't wish to be left behind... No matter. Elias Harel agreed to approve our permits for permanent offices in Muerte. We'll need a selection of top officers to be sent there in the new year, and they will train Mot applicants. By mid-year I assume we'll be moving full force there."
He paused for a moment to sip at his drink - a quality scotch, aged over a century, worth more than most lives. He stopped though, remembering something before he drank. A smile crossed his lips and he met Vincent's eyes, "There was one... Additional development, of course. The meeting with the scientist. His work is very promising... And I'm quite pleased it will be in our hands, as I can't imagine what risks it would pose in others."
Post by Vincent Laeretti on Dec 3, 2016 17:14:36 GMT -7
Though it was disappointing to hear of the setback in Dirys and Liesdro, Vincent was pleased to hear that Muerte had approved. No doubt Elias Harel had no idea that he'd essentially signed his own death sentence; the man was a menace in his home territory, his citizenry oppressed and in fear, and Vincent was wholly of the belief that crime in Muerte was only so high thanks to that oppression. Once the SSPB had a foothold in Muerte, Vincent was sure it would only be a matter of time before Harel fell to some "accident". And his campaign of inequality against beastfolk would be stopped cold in its tracks.
He was shaken from these pleasant thoughts, however, when Lord Woodrow mentioned the scientist. At this, Vincent furrowed his brow somewhat, not concerned with hiding it - Markus was already well aware that Vincent was not wholly on board with that prospect. Woodrow had chocked it up to a possible subconscious jealousy over the fact that he would seek the aid of another scientist instead of just relying on Vincent's inventions, and he had even playfully ribbed the bespectacled man about it one evening, much to Vincent's denial. Vincent could admit that maybe there was a bit of pride at stake in his apprehension. But more than that, Vincent was just naturally wary of unknown characters with vague, shady offers.
Woodrow, on the other hand, was of the opinion that risk begot progress.
"I wish you had at least let me attend that meeting as well," Vincent sighed. "It would have been nice to know exactly what you were having us agree to. But I'll trust your judgment on the matter, as always. I don't suppose you can tell me entirely what we did agree to, though?" he asked. Honestly it would be nice if Vincent was just being paranoid. He liked other scientists as a general rule, and if Woodrow seemed pleased with how the meeting turned out then surely the scientist's offer must have been legitimate.
He just hoped his lord hadn't overzealously emptied the bank accounts for it.
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 7, 2016 10:37:27 GMT -7
He waved off Vincent's concern with non-committal hand. Woodrow never felt as though he had to worry: Vincent did all of that for him. "A paltry amount, shockingly. You remember what Edroit wanted, don't you?"
Before they had even heard of Thomas Dunn, they had been contacted by Eliza Edroit, who was working on her own kind of mind control technology. It wasn't to control pirates, of course, but to control fearsome beasts. Weaponized monsters. Her technology wasn't as far along. She needed much more money. In the conversation with her, she had mentioned in passing a name he hadn't recognized. When him and Vincent were leaving, he had told his right-hand man to send word to Thomas Dunn that Woodrow wanted a meeting with him. It just so happened that the two would be in Dirys at the same time. Happenstance often worked out well for Woodrow.
"In fact, mere pennies for the exclusive use of his technology. It's impressive, should it work as he says. And if it doesn't... Well, once more, mere pennies. He has one ask of us, of course..." He allowed for Vincent to be concerned for a moment, "We provide his subject. One of the ruffians from the Grail. He'll be able to use them to lead us right to wherever the rat's nest is. Which reminds me... I hear that my star pupil has left just that waiting in holding. I assume since Tehodis has been back on the streets that she met your expectations? I know you had your doubts."
Post by Vincent Laeretti on Dec 8, 2016 19:41:55 GMT -7
He did indeed remember what Eliza Edroit had wanted. And that's exactly what caused him to be so tentative when they had received word of another scientist who had an offer to make. Eliza had more or less set a precedent for Vincent to be naturally suspicious of other men and women of science who came to Woodrow with their shifty promises. And his worries were none too assuaged by the flippant attitude Lord Woodrow was demonstrating at the moment; mind control was a very serious, very gray thing to work with.
Vincent didn't like gray.
And further, the idea that someone would offer to employ its usage for Markus, out of the blue, with such a low asking price? It was all incredibly fishy. Vincent wondered if Lord Woodrow had a copy of the contract.
Before he could ask on that, though, his superior had asked about Tehodis, and about the captured pirate. Vincent had planned on segueing into those subjects on his own time, but clearly Lord Woodrow was no longer intent on discussing the matter with the scientist. Vincent very much still was though, so he flat-lined his mouth and pointed his finger at Woodrow in a chiding fashion that he knew anyone else would be thrown behind bars for doing for their insolence.
"We're not done with this," he said, and Woodrow made no secret of rolling his eyes. With that said, he moved on. "But yes, in similarly bright news, Tehodis Kitai has actually surpassed my expectations significantly. It was... a struggle, at first, but I rather expected it to be. Still, she showed a drive and motivation like few others I've seen, and she took to my lessons quickly. I'll admit, I more or less intended to just show her the basics and be done with it when you asked me to train her, but her potential saw to it that I couldn't in all good conscience just leave it at that."
He leaned back in his seat, regarding Markus thoughtfully. "Still couldn't get her to use a gun, though. She appears quite averse to them, likely on account of her magical background. She's adopted a rapier, though, your weapon of choice. And while she can't beat me just yet, she's definitely shown a great deal of promise with it. She went out and captured that pirate quite literally the day after our first lessons. It was rather astounding."
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 11, 2016 12:11:41 GMT -7
He smirked at this. Vincent has thought Woodrow merely wanted a toy, had hired Tehodis first for the part she could play in a game of chess against Imperator Cowell; and then had decided she'd be a pleasantly warm body to lie with. While it was true he wanted to use her against Cowell, it was her spark for justice, vigor, and potential that had driven his attraction.
"And you doubted me," He teased, "I know potential when I see it, Vincent. I saw it in you once upon a time... And I was quite right about that, wasn't I?"
He went on to tell Markus that she chose a rapier, and he smiled. Perhaps he would need to spar with her himself. Did Kina sweat, he wondered? Or did they maintain their pristine complexion no matter their exhaustion? "She certainly is astounding... And it was quite the timing, she had. I have to wonder if her magic lies dormant in her somehow. I had my deal with Dunn almost the same time she captured the very subject he'll be needing. We'll have to transfer the girl to Artavia, allow Dunn to do his work. With any luck, by the time we set sail for Aissic we'll have a bloodhound leading us right to their hideout... And then--" Markus hit his desk with his hand, laughing. He remembered the ants Thomas had shown him, he remembered the crunch as they squished beneath his fingers. Soon he would hear the snap of each and every pirate neck. Only then could he rest.
Post by Vincent Laeretti on Dec 11, 2016 13:35:13 GMT -7
It was almost annoying how right he was. He had indeed seen the potential in Vicnent when he'd come to him as a hot-blooded seveteen-year-old boy demanding justice and retribution. It really shouldn't have been so shocking to him that he could make excellent calls in judgment, just because he'd gotten a little accustomed to the man occasionally being driven by more selfish whims.
He was only human, after all. And not every Fortunan had the same robotic level of methodology as Vincent, and he knew it was unrealistic of him to expect as much. Besides, Vincent could objectively admit that if he was ever given something that could truly tempt him - something like his family's killers right in front of him, or even the chance to bring them back somehow - he would likely be just as prone to indiscretion as Lord Woodrow could be.
But regardless of that, Vincent was still unsure about Dunn. His expression became thoughtful, his eyes staring into nothing instead of looking at Markus as he reclined in the arm chair. "It all just seems a bit too convenient, too good to be true," he said. "Think, My Lord, why would a man with supposed access to functional mind control technology offer it to you for so small a price as you insist did? Are you sure there's not some hidden clause in the contract you missed? I don't suppose you have a copy of it?"
He knew he'd likely be grating at Markus's nerves with his doubts, but this was his job. One of the two of them needed to scrutinize every detail.
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 11, 2016 14:32:35 GMT -7
Vincent's doubts were becoming tiring. He very much enjoyed his friend and protege, and usually these were opinions were the ones he wanted - but not now. He was so close, and he had done so much in the last couple of weeks. He wanted praise now. He wanted to Vincent to continue telling him how right he was. He supposed he'd have to prove his point when Dunn delivered.
"A distaste for piracy, for one. A respect for me, another. But yes, you're right, something important comes about this for him. The use of his technology for good. A subject he can use without harming the good. We can provide worthless chattel, and he can help to clear the seas of evil. And after the seas, well, we'll see as it comes... If you're so concerned, perhaps you should accompany our package to Artavia. You can meet with the man yourself. He reminds me of you, actually. Or the person you could be one day, perhaps."
Post by Vincent Laeretti on Dec 11, 2016 15:30:01 GMT -7
However close they may have been, there was always a certain line, a threshold that Vincent could not cross. It was the invisible barrier that kept them divided as superior and employee, and it was only this barrier that held Vincent in check and prevented his eyes narrowing in visible anger at Lord Woodrow.
His face was its usual mask of impassivity, but internally he felt an immediate, furious response over what the man had just said. That he would dare suggest that Vincent was any less than this... this pissant scientist who was not above shady practices of questionable moral ethic, a man Woodrow was choosing to believe was helping them out of the goodness of his heart, out of respect for Lord Woodrow, out of a desire to see the seas cleaned up. No upstanding man like that would employ such methods, and to be compared against that, to be told that he might "one day" be like that person, was as grave an insult as Lord Woodrow could possibly level at him. Had he already forgotten how much Vincent's own technology had aided them? How the tools developed from the wreckage of his old home had provided new, advanced weaponry and trapping mechanisms for their usage? So Vincent didn't have the luxury of time to sit in a lab all day, expediting the creation of more such technology like this Mister Dunn fellow did. That suddenly made him less valuable? Honestly, this was inexcusable.
Woodrow was fortunate that Vincent was capable of forcing himself to overlook such sleights. He certainly didn't deserve that after all he did for him. But it wouldn't be the first time he'd done so, either.
Vincent took a calming breath. "Fine. I will accompany the pirate to Artavia, and I'll meet with him as you wish."
However emotionless his face may have been, his voice certainly held an extra edge to it. It was a rather significant effort to curtail that.
He stood from his seat, taking to pacing around the room now. "I suppose if we've concluded that business, then, there was one more matter of import I had for you. This," he explained, pulling a letter from his cloak. "A missive from one Feofil Peti."
He set it before his Lord. "He wants you to consent to a meeting with Pelagia Xista."
Woodrow gave him a look.
"Yes, I too would be interested to know what exactly has happened in Atton. But he is highly endorsing it, and she seems to have an offer of cooperation for us. Go ahead, read it yourself."
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