[RPG] [EC] [Fontan] Widfara - A new noble in town

[Alex Davies]

>From: "Marc J." <polyticks04 at gmail.com>
>Reply-To: BattleMaster Roleplaying List <rpg at news.battlemaster.org>
>To: "BattleMaster Roleplaying List" <rpg at news.battlemaster.org>
>Subject: [RPG] [BT] [Irombrozia] Paul's Last Resort - And His New Life
>Date: Wed, 6 Dec 2006 11:36:47 -0500
>
>(OOC Info: Marc is the King of Irombrozia and Paul is his older brother,
>mostly famous from the East Island realm of Oligarch. When Paul left the
>island, another character was created there using the name "Paul", so in
>order for him to return, he had to be deleted/re-created)
>
>*The King's Estate in Bolkenia*
>
>"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Marc asked, a little
>worried. "I'm sure Distorted would be thrilled to have you... you might get
>a Council position... heh, you could be a Banker again!"
>
>A small grin crept across Paul's face at his younger brother's joke.
>'Banker... would be nice... but Widfara needs help.'
>
>"I'm sure... begin the procedure." Paul says, steelling himself for the 
>most
>terrible tormet that was to come.
>
>...well, if you're a man, it's terrible torment and torture... ladies, this
>is the same as just getting ready for the new day!
>
>"Oh... My... Gawd!" Exclaimed the overtly... different... stylist. "That
>black hair is just 2 die 4!"
>
>"Paul," Marc grinned, "I never knew you!"
>
>"Oh shut up and..." Paul began, before the scented lotion was applied to 
>his
>face.
>
>"Welp, we can't make your hair down long, but we can cut it down and make 
>it
>look a bit more 'pretty'!"
>
>At the word 'pretty', the stylist let out a girlish sqeal.
>
>"Oh, you'll be the talk of the town! You'll turn all the boy's heads... 
>just
>like I do... :sigh: Just a little more foundation, some rogue for the
>cheeks... *and* you're finished!"
>
>The stylist stood almost on tiptoe as Paul, erm, excuse me:
>*Paulia*grudeningly examined
>*herself* in the mirror.
>
>"Looks good..." Paul said, in a high pitched voice. "Hopefully, it'll fool
>the guards down at the docks.
>
>"Oooohhh! I'm sooo happy you like it! C'mon now silly, we've got *
>accesserizing* to do!"
>
>With that, Paulia looked back helplessly to his brother, only to see him
>doubled up with laughter.
>
>"Youre the King..." Paulia whispered, "make him let me go!"
>
>"No... can... do... little *sister*! Not until you've picked out some more
>outfits!"
>
>...and, with that, Paulia and the stylist headed arm-in-arm to Irombro
>City... and His Royal Magesty collapsed into his favorite chair, holding 
>his
>sides from laughing so hard.
>
>----
>
>*Docks of Irombro City*
>
>"Sooo... Paulia, I hope you know what you're doing." Marc began, examining
>the complex make-up that would have to hide his brother's identity... at
>least until the ship reached East Continent waters.
>
>"I'm sure... Widfara must be supported... or NATU will die." Paulia said
>firmly. "Plus, I've heard rumours of a *bumbling Keithson* being seen in
>Fontan. Someone needs to keep an eye on Tom... and make sure he stay where
>we need him."
>
>A silent moment of understanding passed between the two... umm, brother and
>sister.
>
>"Farewell Marc... you've created a wonderful realm. Perhaps, god- I mean,
>Qyrvagg willing, I'll return to enjoy it."
>
>With that, Paulia walked - unsteadily on high heels - onto the ship that
>would take him to Fontan.
>
>----
>
>*Docks of Fontan, last night*
>
>"We've arrived..." The Captain of the ship whispered, "...and it's night,
>like you asked. Why in the nine hells you made us wait until night, I
>suppose I'll never know, but we're here... and safely, by some miracle!"
>
>Nodding her head, Paulia opened her eyes and saw the lights of Fontan City
>once more.
>
>As the ship pulled into the dock, a small group of men stood nearby - 
>almost
>as if they where expecting this ship and this passenger. Once the bags 
>where
>unloaded, the passenger disembarked... to find the men staring at her
>uncertainly. A small murmur went up amoungst the several dozen men standing
>around.
>
>"A woman?"
>
>"Who is she?"
>
>"We where told to expect a..."
>
>"Quiet!" A large, and largely scarred, man stepped from out of the crowd.
>
>"Who are you?" The man said, with a belated "ma'am" added on.
>
>Paulia looks over the assembly with a careful eye. Walking with a sure
>purpose, she walks up to the scarred man and whispers in his ear, so that *
>only* he can hear, two syllables: "Neigh-two"
>
>Startled, the man takes a step back and reconsiders the woman standing in
>front of him.
>
>"Let's go men! We have business at the Old Estate in Commonyr!" He says,
>forming the men up into ranks - with the lady in the middle. "At you're
>service - mi'*Lady*... we are The Old Guard."
>
>--
>Marc J.

Widfara walked the streets of Krimml, slightly annoyed that his newest 
career path as mentor precluded him from doing anything overly exerting - 
even being a paper pusher had been more exciting that sitting here waiting 
for something to happen, maybe for Tor to moan at him for not going back to 
the South East again...

"My lord!"

Widfara turned and glared with unnatural fury on his eyes, but the effect 
had slightly worn off on his personal attendant, who only slightly faltered.

"What is it," Widfara hissed, "because I am short of patience."

Wordlessly, his scribe handed him the notice of the newest noble in Fontan. 
Widfara stared in disbelief.

"You have got to be kidding me... Ok, send word to "Paulia" that I would 
like to meet, uh, her. ASAP."
----
The1exile (AKA Sniperchief)

I had a mentor, "See the spoon, see the spoon" he used to say, but all I saw 
was fish.

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