Chapter 6a. Lineage.   Posted by Guildmaster.Group: 0
Guildmaster
 GM, 185 posts
Tue 15 Jun 2010
at 08:51
Chapter 6a. Lineage
This is Brax's exclusive thread.

Brax followed the instructions written on the note, leading him to a row of thick and aging books sitting on a shelf. As he browsed the section, a few names from Master Fredarik's lessons jumped out at him, he knew those histories... but then there were also those which were very unfamiliar.

Little by little, he realized that the books were arranged chronologically and perhaps what was more intriguing was that it was actually an encyclopedic history of... Brax's lineage.

Then, he came upon a book, not quite as old as those before it, but still old. He looked at his note from the robed priest and compared the marker - yes, it was this book.

Reaching out with trepidation, Brax wondered what he mind find. And when he opened it, he was immediately captured by the words that filled the page, his vision seemed to only encapsulate what he saw and he could smell the smells that were described, feel the emotions that were inferred from within the text, and he was no one and everyone at once. Yet whatever events that was playing out for him - he was only an observer of history.


* * * * * * *



The sky broke and a steady rain began to fall in large and heavy drops. A low rumbling of thunder could be heard in a distance coupled with the steady pitter, patter of falling rain on metal.

The soldiers sniffed and sighed, while the horses neighed and stomped, shaking their head in protest. Then, the sound of sloshing of mud was all that was needed to snap the soldiers to attention.

The messenger has returned! came a cry.

And the unmistakable figure of Joffrey Braxton emerged from a curtain of thickening rain. "What news?"

Sir, the Duke.... the duke..." The messenger swallowed, gasping for air.

"Calm down man, catch your breath. You're no good to me tired." Joffery said steadily.

"Yes sir," The messenger replied, taking a huge lungful of air to calm his beating heart. He had been running for the past one and a half hour and while he was doing that, he had to avoid Saux troops, traps and other dangers. But he was glad to be able to fulfil his duty, and well. "The Duke's Calvary is in place, all is ready sir. They only wait for your signal."

"Excellent!" Came Joffrey's triumphant cry. And on that note, it seemed as though all the tension and fear in the air dissipated, the soldiers relaxed and they laughed, cheered and whooped. "The Household Calvary has come! Yes! We shall win this men! Hope has returned to us on this day!"

The cries of HUZZAH! HUZZAH! HUZZAH!" echoed throughout...

* * * * * *

Morning broke and the sky was blazing orange, it bode well for the superstitious after fighting four dreadful days in the rain and sodding mud. Not two hours ago, Joffery Braxton had sounded the horn and the Household Calvary was on the move.

And now, two hours later, a messenger returned, bearing news from the front, "Sir! Your plan, it's working! The Saux concentrating their attacks on the wall. The Calvary has drawn them away, your Captains are anxious to join in the fray, what do I tell them?"

This message was last edited by the GM at 02:47, Thu 17 June 2010.

Brax
 player, 149 posts
 A bold highwayman
Sat 19 Jun 2010
at 21:37
Entrancing! And Yet, Oddly Disappointing . . .
Brax sighed quietly and shut the book for a moment, marking his place with his thumb. He shut his eyes and massaged his temples with the fingers of his other hand. For some reason he had suddenly developed a throbbing headache; he reasoned that it must be the dust of the ages -- from the looks of their spines, some of the books on the nearby shelves looked to be many centuries old.

The highwayman took a moment to reflect upon the book to which he had been directed. The writer was surpassingly good, having the capacity to paint such convincing word-pictures that the reader was immediately transported away to that place and time in his mind's eye. Why, the writer had even known that the day of the climactic battle had dawned clear and bright after many days of rain! And the author of the account wrote quite intelligently of military matters.

Brax well-remembered his history lessons taught so engagingly by the redoubtable Doktor Fredarik, who had breathed such life into his tales of long ago that he had easily captured the imagination of his young, learning-resistant charge. But even Fredarik's tales had lacked the details of this recounting of the battle. Brax found himself wondering if the account that he was reading might have been penned by one of Joffrey Braxton's own staff officers, a man who had stood at his great-grandfather's shoulder when the issue of whether the Wall would hold was still very much in doubt.

And yet, notwithstanding the undeniable interest that Brax felt in reading such a superb history, the highwayman also felt a pang of disappointment. For thus far he had seen naught which shed any light whatsoever upon the question that he had asked the gray-robed man -- namely, whether any of his ancestors had served the Guild as Seers or Guardians. Brax's reasoning was that if such had been the case -- why, then, Lord Voraelin's assertions of Brax's own powers suddenly became much more plausible. For if those of Brax's own blood-line had previously wielded such powers, it made perfect sense to the young knight that he, himself, might have been similarly chosen.

For a short moment, Brax smiled. In his mind's ear he could hear Doktor Fredarik's voice gently chiding him, "Have you not yet learned the virtue of patience, Sir Derek? Ever-impulsive, are we, still?

But just as quickly as it had come on, his smile melted away, replaced by an intense frown that put such deep lines and creases on the highwayman's face that he suddenly looked a decade older than his years. "Watcher's Truth, my heart has had its fill of subsisting upon the watery-thin gruel of patience," he growled under his breath.

"Sooner rather than later, I would feast at my banquet of revenge against Montague and Oakshotte -- as well as any others who may have been in league with them in their evil undertaking. For, 'tis entirely too many years now that those black-hearted villains have had the enjoyment of their ill-gotten gains, all gathered in by trampling the bones of my family underfoot."
Guildmaster
 GM, 196 posts
Sun 11 Jul 2010
at 08:40
Lineage Continued
Despite Brax's frustrations, he continued reading what was next.

* * * * * *

"Send them in, boy," Came Joffrey's steady reply.

"Yes sir! Right away!" The messanger smiled, eager and excited by the fact that he had the honour of bringing "good" news to the soldiers. Yes, they may be going to war - but who wouldn't want to be in a war when you're on the winning side?!

But Joffrey had far more things to worry about. He watched on as his soldiers gathered up their weapons and wits. For the first time in weeks, he has seen hope in their eyes, Bless us all Watcher.

* * * * * *

Joffrey's men moved in swiftly and accurately, taking the unwitting Saux from the left. The battle raged on and blood turned the field red. From a distance, Joffrey watched on, he was safe where he was. And then he turned his attention to look at his alter-self fight.

There he was, an illusion of himself leading his men, taking on the enemy with a gusto and rallying the might of his army. Smiling a small smile, Joffery thought to himself congratulatory, "I'm pretty good..."

Confident that his illusion could hold the battle and more importantly, win the battle, the real Joffrey wheeled his horse around and tore down the path way that led towards the deep of the forest beyond. He had shed his military armour and was garbed in a traveler's costume, aiding in his disguise. But with him, Joffrey still had his sword - his precious sword imbued with the power of Iris.

* * * * * *


He had left his horse at the edge of the woods and was now traveling on foot. He was going to be much faster this way. Despite the sprouting roots and sporadic placement of gnarled and tall trees, Joffrey moved with the ease of someone who knew these woods.

Getting close to his intended destination, Joffrey moved a hand to grip the hilt of his sword. Anytime now he breathed...

Then, "Joffrey..." a voice called out from behind.

Smiling to himself, Joffrey spun around quickly drawing his sword with his momentum to face his opponent.

There he stood, Abraxas.

OOC: I would have thought that you would answer my post as Joffrey! LOL, but it's ok, I love what you have come up with in anycase :) For now, feel free to come up with a similar post with what you have done previously, or you can take on the role of Joffrey.
Brax
 player, 152 posts
 A bold highwayman
Sun 8 Aug 2010
at 22:34
One Answer, Many Questions
Brax's eyes widened as he resumed reading, passing across the lines on the page with his forefinger. He furrowed his brow in consternation as he read of his great-grand-father's magicked, illusionary double leading the troops at the crucial part of the battle when the decision was made to send in the reserves, to smash in the Saux' flank with the mailed fist of the Duke's Household Cavalry.

But why the need for the illusion? Brax read on, hunched over the pages, now engrossed in the narrative. According to this account, Joffrey had disguised himself and left the field of battle . . . this was fascinating, and very unexpected.

It was the passage a few lines down the page that caused him to sit back in his chair, his eyes wide in surprise and his heart pounding in his chest: "But with him, Joffrey still had his sword - his precious sword imbued with the power of Iris."

There it was -- the power of Iris! So there was a connection between his ancestors and the Guild! And in Joffrey's case, apparently Iris somehow magicked his sword. If Lord Voraelin was accurate in the description of the powers of the Shards, Joffrey's blade must have been a mighty weapon, indeed!

The highwayman sat forward and began reading the ancient tome again. Master Fredarik would have been proud, to see me so absorbed in my reading -- but he would have been more amazed than proud, I think!

"What!" Brax exclaimed in amazement, as he read of Joffrey and Abraxas meeting, alone, in a forested glade.

That was nothing like the account of the battle that he had heard from his tutor, who had spoken of his great-grandfather finally ordering forward Aberhavenian archers, whose arrows brought the fierce Saux war-chieftain to his knees, after many men who had dared to face Abraxas in close-combat atop the wall had been struck down by the barbarian's flashing battle-axe.

So . . . was the Abraxas who fought so superbly in the popularly-accepted accounts of the battle also naught but a magicked illusion, as was apparently the "Joffrey"? Or was there some other explanation? And how did all of this tie in to the power of Iris?

The thoughts of revenge against Montague and Oakshotte pushed from his mind for the moment, Brax eagerly skimmed over the page to see what came next. Dammit! he thought as he struggled over the unfamiliar words. I never thought to admit it, but just this once I wish that I had listened to Master Fredarik's chiding and had paid more attention to his three R's -- 'readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmatic, and less to the three H's -- hounds, horses, and hunting!

OOC: Eh, at least "Hussies" wasn't amongst Brax's "three H's". In another game, mayhaps . . . ;-)

This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Mon 09 Aug 2010.