The High Emperor of Eskra, Owen Reinhold Jorn Avald Hartwydt, Arbiter of Desdemona, and Son of Orelia was on the march with a company of men large enough to trigger a reasonable suspicion that they were an army.
The infamous emperor was on a tour of sorts orchestrated by his trusted advisors. A peace-making tour. Almost. Perhaps more of an amour-making tour. He had been advised by his chosen deputy Grand Master Holland Rivers that it was about time he put a pause on outward expansion of his empire through force. And thus began the canvas for a suitable wife for the unwed emperor.
What better way to acquire more resources than strategical matrimony?
The emperor’s temper - naturally haughty and violent - did not take well with the occupation of playing suitor to a series of eager, yet bratty, princesses and their desperate fathers. The process of courtship he endured with little of the solemn resignation expected of a man during such proceedings, which was not surprising to those familiar with his natural temper. Many of his so-called intendeds found him either cold and indifferent or too intensely vivacious to tolerate. Even so, wherever Owen traveled with his company, he left behind the local populace with fat wallets and stories of a lavish emperor full of facetious humor and generous with his coin. His reputation often preceded him, for better or worse.
On the day they were to conclude their travels at their next stop, Owen dressed in a way befit a emperor arriving to make an impression upon a monarch. In the capital city of Eyra, he would present himself to the unwed Queen of Veridian.
He was adorned in a rich navy and gold brocade tunic over which was his dress body armor - an intricately woven chocolate colored leather strip armor covering his chest and shoulders. Gold decoration on the chest piece was in the shape of his family crest, a shield with a bear claw in the middle and crossed swords behind framed by laurels in green. The strip armor extended down his thighs which were covered beneath by fitted riding trousers tucked into knee-high riding boots. A heavy navy blue cloak with shimmering gold interior lining was pinned by a gold brooch on his left shoulder in the shape of a crown.
The emperor, though certainly a boastful man who expected to be addressed in a way that suited his station, nonetheless refused to wear a crown. He instead had amassed a collection of crown-shaped brooches that he used to clasp together his cloaks or to ornament a lapel when he went without a cloak. The emperor’s head wasn’t absent of gold as he wore golden blonde hair in messy curls at his shoulders, in addition to a finely sculpted full beard. It would be easy to notice that the emperor had more time dedicated to his beard maintenance than his hair if the unruliness of his curls were any telling sign.
Owen left the bulk of his company outside the port city gates, where they began forming an encampment. If it had not been for the forged invitation he bore to gain passage into Eyra, then it might have appeared as if a siege was to begin shortly outside the walls. No siege weapons were erected, only a vast, but orderly, camp of tents, dotted with bonfires and corralled horses. No drums of war sounded, only the excited yelling and laughing of the men eager to finish camp and drink in the city.
The emperor, after gaining passage to the city, proceeded to the castle through the crowded streets with a large entourage that drew the eye. His company included advisors, his personal guardsmen in full battle regalia, and standard bearers showcasing the Eskran empire’s flag with the depiction of a wolverine, claws and teeth on display, climbing on a helmet.
Owen stopped the group in the courtyard and waited to be addressed by the Queen’s staff. His black stallion pranced, shaking its head, and snorting loudly in impatience - a fitting horse for the vivacious emperor. He pulled back on the reigns and patted the horse’s neck whispering some words of encouragement in Eskran to the animal.
From a velvet bag on his saddle Holland produced a folded paper with an impressive forgery of the seal of the Queen of Veridian on it. A personal invitation to the Emperor himself to wait upon her. And here he was satisfying her request for the 'honor of his presence,' as the note said.
Owen did not wait for the note to be received or reviewed, he dismounted and passed the reigns of his horse off to a guardsman who had approached in curiosity. He pulled leather riding gloves from his fingers and stuffed them into his belt.
“Inform the Queen of my arrival. She will receive me now.” He gave this instruction to the same man he had handed off the reigns to. It begged the question of whether the Emperor expected the man to take care of his horse and announce his presence simultaneously. Owen did not care that these things conflicted or that he had no control over when a Queen would or would not receive him. He was used to getting his way and didn't bother with how those around him orchestrated that.
Holland smiled apologetically from a top his own mount. Leather creaked as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and waited to hand off the invitation to whomever would be responsible for it’s review. "The High Emperor of Eskra, Owen Reinhold Jorn Avald Hartwydt, to wait upon the Queen." He announced Owen's presence.
The infamous emperor was on a tour of sorts orchestrated by his trusted advisors. A peace-making tour. Almost. Perhaps more of an amour-making tour. He had been advised by his chosen deputy Grand Master Holland Rivers that it was about time he put a pause on outward expansion of his empire through force. And thus began the canvas for a suitable wife for the unwed emperor.
What better way to acquire more resources than strategical matrimony?
The emperor’s temper - naturally haughty and violent - did not take well with the occupation of playing suitor to a series of eager, yet bratty, princesses and their desperate fathers. The process of courtship he endured with little of the solemn resignation expected of a man during such proceedings, which was not surprising to those familiar with his natural temper. Many of his so-called intendeds found him either cold and indifferent or too intensely vivacious to tolerate. Even so, wherever Owen traveled with his company, he left behind the local populace with fat wallets and stories of a lavish emperor full of facetious humor and generous with his coin. His reputation often preceded him, for better or worse.
On the day they were to conclude their travels at their next stop, Owen dressed in a way befit a emperor arriving to make an impression upon a monarch. In the capital city of Eyra, he would present himself to the unwed Queen of Veridian.
He was adorned in a rich navy and gold brocade tunic over which was his dress body armor - an intricately woven chocolate colored leather strip armor covering his chest and shoulders. Gold decoration on the chest piece was in the shape of his family crest, a shield with a bear claw in the middle and crossed swords behind framed by laurels in green. The strip armor extended down his thighs which were covered beneath by fitted riding trousers tucked into knee-high riding boots. A heavy navy blue cloak with shimmering gold interior lining was pinned by a gold brooch on his left shoulder in the shape of a crown.
The emperor, though certainly a boastful man who expected to be addressed in a way that suited his station, nonetheless refused to wear a crown. He instead had amassed a collection of crown-shaped brooches that he used to clasp together his cloaks or to ornament a lapel when he went without a cloak. The emperor’s head wasn’t absent of gold as he wore golden blonde hair in messy curls at his shoulders, in addition to a finely sculpted full beard. It would be easy to notice that the emperor had more time dedicated to his beard maintenance than his hair if the unruliness of his curls were any telling sign.
Owen left the bulk of his company outside the port city gates, where they began forming an encampment. If it had not been for the forged invitation he bore to gain passage into Eyra, then it might have appeared as if a siege was to begin shortly outside the walls. No siege weapons were erected, only a vast, but orderly, camp of tents, dotted with bonfires and corralled horses. No drums of war sounded, only the excited yelling and laughing of the men eager to finish camp and drink in the city.
The emperor, after gaining passage to the city, proceeded to the castle through the crowded streets with a large entourage that drew the eye. His company included advisors, his personal guardsmen in full battle regalia, and standard bearers showcasing the Eskran empire’s flag with the depiction of a wolverine, claws and teeth on display, climbing on a helmet.
Owen stopped the group in the courtyard and waited to be addressed by the Queen’s staff. His black stallion pranced, shaking its head, and snorting loudly in impatience - a fitting horse for the vivacious emperor. He pulled back on the reigns and patted the horse’s neck whispering some words of encouragement in Eskran to the animal.
From a velvet bag on his saddle Holland produced a folded paper with an impressive forgery of the seal of the Queen of Veridian on it. A personal invitation to the Emperor himself to wait upon her. And here he was satisfying her request for the 'honor of his presence,' as the note said.
Owen did not wait for the note to be received or reviewed, he dismounted and passed the reigns of his horse off to a guardsman who had approached in curiosity. He pulled leather riding gloves from his fingers and stuffed them into his belt.
“Inform the Queen of my arrival. She will receive me now.” He gave this instruction to the same man he had handed off the reigns to. It begged the question of whether the Emperor expected the man to take care of his horse and announce his presence simultaneously. Owen did not care that these things conflicted or that he had no control over when a Queen would or would not receive him. He was used to getting his way and didn't bother with how those around him orchestrated that.
Holland smiled apologetically from a top his own mount. Leather creaked as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and waited to hand off the invitation to whomever would be responsible for it’s review. "The High Emperor of Eskra, Owen Reinhold Jorn Avald Hartwydt, to wait upon the Queen." He announced Owen's presence.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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Love & War [Closed] - by megs - 12-16-2016, 02:18 PM
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RE: Love & War [Closed] - by megs - 12-29-2019, 02:17 AM
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RE: Love & War [Closed] - by megs - 01-17-2020, 02:35 PM
RE: Love & War [Closed] - by saronym - 01-17-2020, 05:02 PM
RE: Love & War [Closed] - by saronym - 01-31-2020, 06:36 PM
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RE: Love & War [Closed] - by megs - 01-20-2020, 04:42 PM
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RE: Love & War [Closed] - by saronym - 03-01-2020, 05:47 PM
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RE: Love & War [Closed] - by saronym - 07-25-2020, 12:57 PM
RE: Love & War [Closed] - by megs - 03-02-2020, 11:19 AM
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RE: Love & War [Closed] - by saronym - 09-12-2020, 01:02 PM
RE: Love & War [Closed] - by megs - 09-25-2020, 01:11 PM