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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 Tristan Cowell on Jun 14, 2018 15:39:59 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] The moment of waiting seemed to linger in the air for some time, enough that some would have turned away out of a sense of awkwardness, or propriety. Not Tristan. He kept his eyes on Xanthe, taking in the small muscles in her face which could tell him more than she would at this point in their relations. Reading people was how he had come this far. It was how he had done a lot of things, some of which he would have preferred to forget.
At long last, Xanthe slipped on the ring which resized to her finger, and the quiet that had quickly overcome the camp subsided, and found itself replaced by a slight murmur of curiosity. Like Xanthe, and like Feofil, most did not know the purpose of the ring. They did, however, know that Xanthe did not look different. She had not been harmed, had not been changed. Not outwardly.
"Sa deev sus fa laun ta exa eh joboxa fuma, di ruba'uz keox'et la... Thys exdi hen ut thopsofa ut fa qeeta se laun os," Tristan began to explain, his eyes not moving from Xanthe, "Nors saq, yifu sud'm'ux se fa ox yiq elx t'vaqr, sa fesran t'vaqr eh Malscure. Thys, fa raun yiq ienjiz ut oh yi uf'et sud'm'ux faq elx, je fa xez? Hen ut thopsofa ut yi red'j qefa deev, di fa red'j oq vuon, fa lod raun sa ienjiz eh uxi t'vaqr yi m'xel, ut oh sud'm'et ox faq sox'm'etz sexpya... Di yi lod raun sa tufa eh faq.
"Uxi Attonja l're sud'mz esan sexpya se yi, yi mux husef esan faux'ux. Uxi oxbujan l're sud'mz ox sa Common sexpya, ox Malscuri, ox Kina, fa mux te husef ut lad.
"Yi reva sus qefa ehan'ux lod rad'v la ox axtyna ux upna l'roq'r fa bani husef, di upna se."
With that, Tristan offered the hand bearing the ring for Xanthe to shake.
Common Translation: The ring that you wear is one of magical make, and has connected us... But only for as long as you choose to wear it. Right now, I am speaking to you in my own language, the mother tongue of Malscure. Yet, you hear my words as if I were speaking your own, do you not? For as long as I bear this ring, and you bear its partner, you shall hear the words of any language I know, as if spoken in your mind's tongue... And I shall hear the same of your's.
Any Attonian who speaks their tongue to me, I can comprehend their meaning. Any invader who speaks in the common tongue, in Malscuri, in Kina, you can so understand as well.
I hope that this gift will aid us in ensuring an agreement which you fully understand, and assent to.
When Xanthe had finally put the ring on, Tristan began to speak. When his words came to her in Attonian Xanthe flinched back in surprise, making it probably clear to the man that he was correct - she could understand him as though he spoke her own tongue. The ring connected them, he said, and as long as they both wore them they would understand each other. He told her he hoped that it would ensure a fair agreement, one that she could fully understand and assent to. While he was speaking her surprise passed quickly and instead a contemplative look took its place, which in turn became a slight smile, and by the end of his speech when he held his hand out to her, she responded in kind and the two leaders shook hands. It was a good start.
"You are a smart man, Tristan Cowell. Your offering pleases me. I trust you will not mistranslate my words." The latter was both an admission of trust, and a threat not to betray it. She may not know the entire Common language, but she knew enough that should he lie about what she was saying to the others she believed she would know.
[attr="class","gilles2"]Gilles was relieved as he witnessed Tristan's plan become a success. However, as was always the case with Gilles, his posture and facial expression remained impassive.
It surely hadn't been a surprise for Tristan's idea to have succeeded, the ring was a marvel of magic and precisely the thing to rightfully gain trust, but there had still been a piece of Gilles that had been concerned the gift would be misinterpreted, or outright rejected. A part of him had perhaps thought Feofil too enamoured with his new friend in the Aurcaelis to let such a thing stand without comments. Thankfully, Gilles' worries were for not. Xanthe spoke in her own tongue to Tristan, the tone too layered for Gilles to attempt to interpret, leaving he and Feofil somewhat in the dark. Of course, Feofil did have a comment or two: "C'est magnifique, monsieur Cowell," Feofil gasped somewhat as he percolated upon what had transpired, "The magic of Eleusia is incomparable. Tres bon!"
As Feofil fettered over the ring, Gilles looked to Tristan for direction. Was Gilles to bring them now to their meeting place, or was there more to be said?
Post by Tristan Cowell on Jun 25, 2018 21:20:20 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] Xanthe seemed pleased, and it made Tristan's ego swell with pride. It had been some time since he had last done something productive and immediately rewarding, and he had forgotten how impeccable it felt. It was nothing quite like the swell of love, but it was an aphrodisiac of power nonetheless.
His pride turned to a smile as Xanthe spoke, the ring transforming the words to sound like his own native tongue. Malscuri sounded so much smoother to his ears that her Attonian.
"Fa ruba yiq ienji," He swore to her, gesturing a circle upon his chest as he swore upon his faith. She would no knowledge of what that meant, but to him - it was nearly everything. Khades was within him. Tristan's gaze then shifted to Feofil, who seemed outwardly enamoured with the offering. Tristan imagined the man could be thinking what Xanthe had - that this was a way for Eleusia to pull a trick, and manipulate any agreement to their benefit. Neither was entirely wrong, even if Eleusia's intentions were ideologically pure.
Tristan gave Xanthe one last nod, and then turned his back to her, facing the rest of the fort which had been watching closely. "Gilles lod suma la se sa parlor," He announced in common, gesturing for the Stombringer to lead the way forward, "Sana la lod dem vaut."
You have my word. Gilles will take us to the parlor. There we will find peace.
[attr="class","gilles2"]Taking Tristan's cue, Gilles met the gaze of Xanthe, and then Feofil, and nodded to each in turn an invitation. He then walked the quartet through the fort, well past the many illusion-enhanced barracks, and to a central hexagonal building of stone slats in deep red and art deco enhancements in pale blue. The building stood at only a single story and seemed not much larger than a sizable foyer - but as it always was with Eleusia, looks were deceiving.
The inside of the building was expansive, the entrance hall itself dwarfing the small box they had seemed to walk into. On each wall of the hexagon was a door, or staircase, each leading to some other mystical locale. The magic was simple enough, despite how complex many seemed to consider it. The doorway brought them into the underground of Atton through an imperceptible staircase, Tristan's impressive illusions making it feel as though there were no steps at all to those who had not already been told the trick. It was far easier to protect in this way, as no one could surely locate the rooms from above in a targeted attack. Gilles thought perhaps Xanthe would be able to tell where they were now. The feeling of Atton's electricity was different underground, as far as Gilles had felt it. Feofil, on the other hand, was likely as clueless as the others.
"This way," Gilles offered, not pausing to allow appreciation of the tricks. He lead them to one of the doorways, upon which he laid a palm on the jamb, leaving a glowing insignia where he touched. The door opened at this, the glow quickly fading, and the room within was revealed. It was almost like the inside of a jewelry box, hexagonal like the first had been, with an angled ceiling that gave one the feeling of a gilded cage. The ceiling itself was plastered with a wallpaper of the night sky - quite literally a moving picture of dark blue and stars, with a slight view of Artavia itself - and enhanced with gold-leafed wooden slats.
At the centre of the ceiling was a carved out window, which shone something not unlike moonlight down from above and gave the room a supernatural glow. Hoisted from an invisible clasp at the centre of the skylight, a golden chain hanging a beautiful, conical chandelier of gold, sapphire, and aquamarine design which cast the room with warmth. Perfectly placed in the middle of the room sat a table in hexagon shape, perfectly sized for the room, surrounded by comfortable chairs upholstered with blue and gold. From the middle of the table extended a small length of black silkpaper which seemed to shiver as each stepped inside the room.
Each wall of the room, apart from the door that the four had entered from, hosted beautiful arching windows looking out not onto the fort, as the room was well underground, but onto five different locations. The windows were an act of divination: scrying windows. The Broken Temple Fort, Fort Fabelle, Skyfort, Mount Acheron, and Coveflame, either their entrances or a skyward view of their territory -- this was a war room, certainly.
"This is not where we have met before," Feofil chided. He was impressed, clearly, but also concerned over what Eleusia had achieved by watching. As Feofil spoke, the black silkpaper on the table shuddered to life, copying his words with gold ink in beautiful cursive that matched precisely Feofil's own script. The man quirked a brow and tilted his head at this, thought sketching his features.
Gilles on the other hand, did not stand in thought. He moved to one of the six seats around the table, and nodded with another invitation, "Please. Sit."
When Feofil spoke, Xanthe was surprised to hear his words also as though they were Attonian - Tristan had said as much, but tobe told about it and actually experience it were different beasts. It was helpful to be sure, but it also meant that while she wore the ring she would certainly not be learning any more Common. In a perfect world, she supposed, she would never have had to learn Common at all, and if she could make it so that any invader had to learn her own language before coming to visit once there was peace she might be tempted to consider it, but that wasn't the course of things now. For the time being she would appreciate the ring and the assistance it gave to her understanding.
Tristan gave his word he would not mistranslate her, and then addressed his people by saying that Gilles would lead them all into the parlor where they would find peace. A grand announcement, and hopefully a true one. Xanthe was ready for peace, or as much peace as she could find here. Two new countries, a whole continent, joining Atton's side in this war. Whether it was for Atton's sake or in recognition of Mynie's interference all those years ago, or some other reason entirely, they were going to be allies.
Gilles looked to her and Feofil in turn and then began leading the group of them into the fort. Xanthe, already restless, grew tense when they entered but followed dutifully. She was glad at least that the magic in this place was illusory, and not the same as Feofil's door back in the fort. If walking into their base had transported them back to Malscure or Rielcia itself this would have been a very short meeting.
Their fort was beautiful, as only a fort so steeped in magic could be, and as they walked through it she felt her Atton rising around her - there was no hill to be built into here, which meant that they must be going underground. No steps indicated such a climb, but she could feel it in the air and in her bones - the electricity, the lifeblood of Atton thrummed strong and steady through the soil. She lost some of her wariness as they descended, not because of anything the Eleusians had done but because no matter what it was they had done they were still in her home, her Atton, and surrounding even their magic was the familiar and comforting magic of her country.
The room they entered at the end was a magnificent one indeed. The ceiling caught her eye first - the view not of her own country but surely of one of theirs. The night sky was magnificent and filled with a spattering of stars, and as she watched it became clear it wasn't just a static picture either. Neither, she noticed, were the views from the windows. The Broken Temple Fort she recognized easily, and Fort Fabelle, and the others she knew were the bases of more invaders. She supposed it stood to reason that they would want to keep watch of their enemies. It wasn't the kind of magic that Xanthe was familiar with herself, but she had seen it done. She heard Feofil's words again as her own, and noticed only then the black paper on the table as it began to move of its own accord. It was writing something down, and she wondered for a moment how the ring would work regarding writing. Probably not at all, she decided. Attonian wasn't exactly a written language, and while she had learned much about speaking Common she hadn't learned anything about writing it. The most she had done for that was stare at the peace treaty while they'd been discussing it and write an X where she was expected to sign. She assumed Tristan or Feofil would narrate it as they went.
Gilles moved toward the table and invited them to sit. Xanthe didn't particularly feel like sitting, but she moved to the table curiously, looking at the black paper set upon it. The scribbles on it were in gold ink which made it look more like art than writing, and she turned to look at Gilles and Tristan to ask, "What is it?"
Post by Tristan Cowell on Jul 11, 2018 8:37:31 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] Tristan's eyes scanned the windows of the room as they entered, quickly informing himself that today was an entirely usual day for all but the four of them in this room. As in so far as Atton was concerned, at any rate.
It had been a question between them today whether or not to show what this room could truly do to the prying eyes of both Xanthe and Feofil, as secrets were worth much in this age. In the end though, it had been decided that there was a worth they had wanted to prove. Certainly Aurcaele and the Peacekeepers had their offerings... And Eleusia would have it's far better ones.
"That," Tristan smiled somewhat at Xanthe's interest in the transmuted silkpaper. His words were common to the ears of Feofil and Gilles, but to Xanthe, sounded of Atton. He watched as the paper drew a jagged 'X' for Xanthe's words, and then had continued in his own penmanship on the following line. Xanthe evidently had little in the way of writing, and the magical object could not read into what she spoke. "Is evidently going to be of little worth to us, unless you find it agreeable for us to repeat what you say, Chief Xanthe.
"The paper listens to what we say, and copies it in our own hand, in order to properly ascribe our words to our tongues. An impartial third party who can ensure an accurate, and unbiased representation of our words. I imagine perhaps, though, that your language is a spoken one and your hand has yet to see need of scripts like these, would that be correct?"
Xanthe started by watching Tristan but upon his words about what the paper did she turned her attention back to it and watched as delicate strokes of gold appeared on the dark paper while he spoke. It was beautiful, truly a work of art, and though she knew it must read out what he said it was completely indecipherable to her. "The ring does not work on your scribbles," she remarked absently, before answering his own query. "We have no need for such things, though it seems it is something all the invaders have in common. If we are truly to become a member of Eleusia and the greater world, perhaps it is something we should learn. You may dictate my words, not just for the paper but Feofil and Gilles as well. I had a translator of sorts, but he is.. otherwise occupied."
[attr="class","gilles2"]As Tristan explained to Xanthe the magic present in the Eleusian war-room (a far easier feat with the ring, and for someone as eloquent as Cowell), Gilles had focused his exploratory eyes upon Feofil. Feofil, who was wandering by the windows, peering at each of them with keen interest. Whether the man was examining the magic, or the image, Gilles could not be certain, and yet... The Stormbringer believed the answer to be 'both'.
"I cannot quite say why I feel utterly surprised," Feofil chatted as he rounded to the view of Fort Coveflame, the window closest to Gilles, "It seems such an obvious creation, when I wonder upon it. Difficult, I'm sure... Your Diviners must be impeccable, Gilles."
Gilles merely nodded in response.
"Is there a delay at all?" The inspector asked, brimming with idle curiosity. The tone of an admirer -- and an act, if Gilles were to guess. In response, Gilles merely smiled - and Feofil mirrored the expression sheepishly, caught in the act. "I suppose until a deal is struck, secrets shall remain just so. However... I can imagine a world in which these windows are used to maintain peace, and to root out the greed of our international community. How better can we surveil the treaties tenets being upheld?"
"Scouts," was Gilles' flat response. Again, Feofil smiled. This time, he did not speak, instead humming gently as he moved to the next window -- Fort Fabelle. Calm, for the time being. From what Gilles understood, Pelagia was many miles away, performing distant tasks. Perhaps she thought she had 'won' in Atton. Perhaps not. Perhaps she didn't truly care. Gilles had played with many of her motivations, but understood none of them. He did understand Feofil now, in this moment. He did not just give a cursory look over Fabelle as he had the others. He was looking for something. Something to quell his fears or to feed them.
Post by Tristan Cowell on Jul 18, 2018 10:59:47 GMT -7
[attr="class","tcowell"]
[attr="class","tcowell2"]
[attr="class","tcowell3"]REFLECTIONS ON THE MOON
[attr="class","tcowell4"]OF A HEART TORN IN TWO
[attr="class","tcowell5"] Tristan smiled as Xanthe spoke, her tones seeming to take naturally to his preferred Malscuri as it filled his ears. It wasn't the sound of it though, but the content that pleased him the most: A member of Eleusia, she said. It was the thing that they had aimed for, and it tumbled so easily from the mouth of the chief. Certainly Eleusia wanted a little more than that (they had no wish to share peace with Aurcaele without receiving something in exchange, for example), but it was almost amusing how simple it was. Ten years for this? If Tristan had not been in a good mood today, he would have been irritated at the thought. He might have taken it out on others. He would certainly have taken it out on himself. Instead, he was smiling.
Xanthe mentioned her translator and Tristan schooled his features not to show a hint of recognition, or knowledge. He knew precisely who she meant, had met him, and had encouraged him to foolishness. From what he had heard, foolishness was what the boy had gone on to. Danton had stumbled into Eleusian territory, last Tristan had heard. His territory. Tristan would need to obtain the full report, but for now it was interesting enough.
"It would be my honour," Tristan responded, soon repeating for the benefit of the other two leaders: "Let our record show, the Attonian Chief Xanthe has approved my place as translator and dictator for the course of this meeting. She will hear any word I speak falsely as such, and I grant her a signal to notify Inspector Peti, and Stormbringer Gilles of my impropriety.
"Xanthe... If I misspeak your words, please knock your fist to the table twice. I assure you will have no need of such a signal, but I believe all voices must have a method of speaking for themselves at all times. Is this acceptable to you?"
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