#knightblogging

[crossedblade]

The town was bustling with life, which left little space for those hoping for some peace and quiet. Thankfully, the people were still respectful enough to keep proper decorum inside the cathedral... So far, at least.

Aris could be described as religious, not spiritual. Someone who took comfort in the patterns and rites, but did not think too hard about their implications. Not out of any simple-mindedness, but simply because that was not their purpose. And at moment, the purpose of that particular church was to give shelter to his racing mind. It worked well enough. Shouldn't one be grateful for that?

@madprincesshours

[silver--chevalier]

The Senior Knight gathered himself. This was not Ser Etienne’s strong suit. The tourney ground? Yes. Bloody battle? Most certainly. Fancy dress and fine dining? Well, he enjoyed both well enough, in theory. But this place put him on edge. I felt more like a fae court from the romances, the attendees an odd mixture of strange folk, beautiful women, and knights he did not know. His being here was odd enough on its own,

“I bid you accept the invitation. Ride in the tilt. Attend the parties. Observe. Deliver my letter to the Baron if you can, but only to his hand. Try to enjoy yourself,” the Lord Malatesta told him.

And so here he was. Thus far, things were pleasant enough, finding a friend from the past and spending some pleasant hours. But Ser Silence was occupied with their charge tonight, and the older gentleman came to the feast unaccompanied. The better to observe, he supposed.”

The outfit. Yes, the hat is a swan. It’s based on an historical example.

OOC: I’m not great at parties. Please help!

[basicbascinet]

@ser-william-the-third @pearlescentknight @severtheheart

Here we are, with minimal incident. coffee addictions aside Welcome to Bloodhaven.

I suggest we speak to Chancellor Perroy at once. There seem to have been a few disturbing occurrences before we arrived, and I want to make sure we know what we are dealing with currently.

[crossedblade]

The Duchy of Portosal's entourage would arrive early. On account of the distance, the journey had to be carefully planned. The small army of servants spread out to set up the camp around the castle like dutiful ants in their colony.

Aris was grateful the long ride was over. He had wrapped his recent injury more firmly in hopes it would reduce the jostling from the horse, with only limited success. It would not do to bolt out of sight immediately after arrival, so he would linger to care for the horses and help organize basic necessities. But before too long, he would disappear, in search of better company.

[crossedblade]

I had a dream this night. In it, I took my sword and wandered the halls of the castle, seeking blood. My lord I slayed in the throne room, along with some of his friends and knights. A few ran out, only to be felled at the corridors. I chased them down to the last. Then I left. I'd never felt so free. And I laughed and laughed as I rode through the fields, warmed by their blood, my heart so full of joy.

I took up brigandry to hunt down the ones that were not in the castle. I stalked them like prey, ambushed them, then left their bodies impaled by the side of the roads. And when there were no longer any to punish? I hunted down their friends, their relatives, their relatives' friends, ever following the endless chain of revenge. Ever warmed by their flowing blood.

Gods forgive me, I haven't slept so well in years.

[crossedblade]

I did end up finishing a sketch, so, partial win?

Aris's Bloodhaven Ball outfit, or: Local man dresses as the plague to represent his excellent mental health.

[blade-and-devotion]

Hark, prithee, dost thou know that each and every time mine blade is drawn, 'tis in thy service I do wield it? This steel, a bond of faith, doth bind me to thee, and with thy divine might, doth guide my humble hand. Through yonder sword, I do become the instrument of wrath, an angel of battle in service of mine own god.

[crossedblade]

Knight dragged to the enemy camp, surrounded by people who loathe and resent them due to slights real or imagined, fully expecting to be executed in the most horrific way conceivable. But there is a single person who intervenes and manages to convince the army leaders to keep them alive. Now the benefactor needs to keep a close eye on the knight in their own tent, otherwise even the common soldiers may take the opportunity to kill them.