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Post by Grumbaki on Jan 19, 2006 21:23:02 GMT -5
Diodore shrugged and walked off towards the chapel of the Lady. He had prayers to make, which would easily occupy him for the rest of the day. He made a note to inform a staff to keep an eye both of the prince and the dwarfs to make sure neither did any serious harm to each other.
ooc: 35xps
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Post by Drasanil on Jan 19, 2006 21:29:03 GMT -5
[OOC: Thankies, I'll make a follow up post tomorrow.]
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Post by Drasanil on Jan 20, 2006 12:06:46 GMT -5
Ianthuil followed the servant through the winding stone halls of Le Garrote keep, the place was indeed an impressive fortress of grey stone, as one might expect from the abode of a grail knight it was also quite spartan, there was the occasional marble statue of the Lady or some other diety which lined the walls but not much more, while the entirety of the fortress was lit by torch light, the orange glow of the flames dancing on the dark grey stone walls made the entire keep feel all the more oppressive and confined, in a way it reminded the prince of the catacombs beneath his father's palace... minus the specters of course.
"Here we be, ye highness..." the gruff little peasant man spoke in a hush tone, as the two arrived at a massive oaken door at the heart of the the central keep, Ianthuil's room was situated but one level above Diodore's own chambers, "This was built as ye father's private chambers, course it hasn't been lived in for near 20 years now, but as per his instructions not a soul was allowed to stay the night there..."
"I would expect no less." the prince replied in a cold fashion as he watched the servant unlock the massive door and strain ever so slightly to open it, revealing an exquistly furnished room which was quite unlike the rest of the keep much to the prince's satisfaction, he would not have suffered well to spend his nights in a pauper's chambers, "You may leave." Ianthuil added coldly as he snatched the key from the servant's hands stepped inside closing the doors behind him.
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Post by Drasanil on Jan 21, 2006 23:02:16 GMT -5
Ianthuil had spent the better part of the last ten minutes looking around his father's chambers, the place was exquisitely decorated with all the fineries one could want, it had a massive fire place, a four poster bed with silken sheets, several chairs and couches, an oaken table so large it could be used in a banquet and of course a private liquor cabinet filled with the finest ales, spirits, and wines from across the known world. But none of these things interested the prince at the moment, he was searching for something far more important, his father's private shrine which was hidden behind a fake wall, and finaly the prince had found the secret machenism of which his father spoke.
The prince stood motionless for a moment observing an unassuming flat grey stone, which bore a very faint rune of Khaine which was barely visible even to his keen eyes. Taking a deep breath the prince pushed the flat stone in and downwards before stepping back. With in moments a section of the stone wall at the far corner of the room slid open reaveling a gloomy altar room lit with glowing red orbs. A top the alar was a small marble statuette of Khaine, while the corners of the shrine were lined with the skulls of enemy champions which had fallen at Caldath's hand, needless to say the shrine would seem quite oppresive and even disturbing to most, but not to the young prince he had been raised to be a proper elf and knew that Khaine alone of all the gods was the one who protected the elven race and granted them the strength with which to vanquish their enemies. Placing his helm his on the altar the prince then took a step back, kneeled before the shrine, and began to pray. As he did so, a smug feeling of superioty came over him, realising that Diodore was no doubt doing the same, of course the human was praying to little more than a weakling goddess who ruled foggy ponds and spooky woods, but humans were quite the stupid creatures so he could hardly fault them for putting their faith in equally lacking deities.
--- --- --- --- ---
What is it now!? Ianthuil thought to himself with a sneer as the sound of some one knocking on his door interupted his prayers. Snatching his helm from the altar the prince stepped out of the dimly lit shrine and pressed the grey stone once again, which saw the door slide back in place once again. A second louder more impatient knock resounded through the room as Ianthuil walked over to the door, making him wonder who had the nerve to bother him in such a fashion.
"Oh, its you..." Ianthuil remarked in a sour tone he opened the door and saw an elf maiden dressed in white robes. Of all the people in Le Garotte keep it would figure that she would be the only one with the nerve to disturb him.
"Whats that?" Lafavia inquired innocently, cutting off Ianthuil, as she peered into the chambers and saw the hidden door finish sliding into place, before turning her attention back to prince at looking at him with her deep innocent blue eyes, and a little smirk on her face.
"A shrine..." Ianthuil replied in the same sour fashion, not exactly impressed with the priestess.
"A shrine to Isha?"
"No."
"Kurnous?"
"No."
"Asuryan? ..."
This back and forth lastest for nearly five minutes as, Lafavia listed every elven diety, demi-god, spirit, and hero should could think of. Much to the prince's annoyance, he had hoped she'd of shut up by now but the maiden was still going, a fact that was both astonishing and a little scary when he thought of it.
"Oh! I got it! Khaine! its a shrine to K-hai-ne..isn't...it?" Lafavia finaly blurted out, her words gradualy loosing all life as the implications finaly dawned on her.
"Oh bloody hell, you're not going to cry are you?" Ianthuil spat back his voice ripe with annoyance and anger, as he looked into the priestess' eyes which seemed to be welling up. Some times he wondered why her bothered to ever save her in the first place.
"No..." Lafavia replied in a hushed tone as he looked down and stepped into the room, before turning around to try and slap the prince in the face, only to have her hand caught by Ianthuil's plated gauntlet, after which he slamed the door shut with a kick. "It figures some one like you would worship *that*..." Lafavia added in a disappointed tone as he pulled her hand free of the prince's grip.
"Bloody wench..." Ianthuil mumbled to himself as he walked over to his father's liquor cabinet, it seemed he would need a drink tonight after all...
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Post by Drasanil on Jan 23, 2006 16:31:14 GMT -5
Leasurely leaning back into the soft leather chair and grasping a half empty goblet of wine, Ianthuil carefully observed the priestess who was siting opposite to him, while the small wooden table beween the two already held two empty bottles of wine and a third which was half way done, not suprisingly Ianthuil didn't seem any worse for wear, his hightened metabolism easily prosessing the steady yet messured flow of fine elven wine.
Lafavia on the other hand was getting quite drunk, having downed a bottle and half to the prince's one. The priestess starred absently into her fine gold and jewel encrusted goblet having long since lost the will to confront the prince, finaly after a few moments she looked up once again, forcing a slight smile as her eyes met those of the prince before turning her gaze back to the goblet. "So... I take that mea-n-s the ru..mours about your father are true?" she stated hesitantly the alcohol slurring her speech ever so slightly, though it was not that which worried but rather the answer to the question she had just asked, had she not been drunk she would have probably not been able to muster up the courage to ask such a thing in the first place.
For his part the prince simply gave Lafavia a puzzled look not exactly knowing what she was asking about, before he realised she ment that his father was a druchii, something he had known for quite some time and which really seemed to be a non-issue to him in the first place. "What of it?" Ianthuil replied in a casual fashion after a few moment's thought, not exactly sure how to answer such a question.
"Well... that means..uhm ne-ver mind... it just 'xplains a lot I guess..." the maiden replied in the same hesitant fashion as she continued to stare absently into her wine, finaly realising that a lot of Ianthuil's, and for that matter his father's, behaviour made a lot more sense now, though the thought of how far either of them could go if they put their mind to it, was too fearful to contemplate. "Doesn't all... that armour ...uhm... bother you? Must've been wearin' it for... hours now..." Lafavia added moments later as she looked up again, obviously trying to change to the subject.
"Not really..." Ianthuil replied in a neutral fashion, most humans and elves would have found wearing such heavy armour for so long quite tiring if not painfull, but then again the prince much like his father rarely if ever got truely tired, while pain itself was almost an alien feeling to him, most injuries he had ever sustained healed so quickly that they were little more that a faint memory. Ianthuil then finished off his goblet, before leaning over to the table and pooring himself another glass, tonight was going to be a long one...
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