| The Star of the East | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 1 2008, 04:29 PM (158 Views) | |
| Menelvagor Curugil | Mar 1 2008, 04:29 PM Post #1 |
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Lord Menelvagor Curugil sat in his study, looking out the window at the Dornish night. He had sent messengers earlier that day to House Qorgyle of Sandstone and House Blackmont of Blackmont, asking that they both join his lordship and become his Vassals. They would agree, he knew. He was very powerful, with powerful allies. They would be glad of this chance to join him, and thus be spared. He was glad. Though he knew war, and was a master of it, he did not enjoy it. That was not the way, he knew. War was the least productive of mankind's excesses. It caused much suffering, and brought death, even unto the innocent. Menelvagor was young, all of 21 years, but nobody who ever met him thought that. It was his eyes. His blue eyes, which changed with the light. In bright light they were a clear blue, as bright as the Dornish sky in summer. But in the dark, they seemed to people as dark as a midnight sky. Those eyes were pentrating, but more that that, they were old. They held a wisdom and experience which was not found in men his age, and that decived most people. After all, he had been training for his position since the age of ten. Menelvagor sighed, as he realized the direction of his thoughts. He had indeed seen more of the world than even old men. He was from beyond the sea. He was not the true lord of Starfall. The Daynes had become extinct in the male line, and married his rich house from beyond the sea in a love match. Now Starfall belonged to his family. His father should hold it, but it was custom in the family that when the heir reached the age of 20, he would take up the lordship of Starfall until the birth of his first child. It was also tradition that the men and women of his house would be betrothed at the age of twenty, and marry at the age of 22. His betrothed was alove match, but a very advantageous one. Ellerina Tinuviel was the sole daughter of the old Keeper of the Golan. As his only heir, she held the title in his dotage, and his her betrothed, he held it with her. This comforted him. He knew this place was only a training for him. If he saw it was going badly, it was expected he would return home, and begin again, perhaps in another place. He looked at a portrait on the desk, drawing comfort from the scene it displayed. It was drawn by a friend of his who had been present when Menelvagor proposed to Ellerina. It showed all their happiness. He looked at his portrayal: A very tall man, with straight long golden hair, reaching the small of his back. His piercing and too old blue eyes, which here looked as young as newborn. His almot inhumanly handsome face with the fine bone structure, the slightly upswept ears of his people, alight with happiness. Then he looked at Ellerina. Her long straight silver hair with its 3 black streaks, hanging down to her waist. Her violet eyes which had bewitched him. her beauty, also almost inhuman. Her delicate bone structure, her petite waist, her larger hips, her gently swelling bosom, with its perfect breasts. How he loved her! he thought. Well, there was no help for it, he suddenly hardened his thoughts. He will visit her in two weeks, he promised himself, and in less than a year, she will be his. Now he had a game to play. The Game of Thrones. |
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| Menelvagor Curugil | Mar 4 2008, 02:12 PM Post #2 |
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Night on the Dornish dunes. A favored time for the wildlife to come out to eat. But not only animals hunted at this time of night. One could hear hooves, pounding acroos the dunes. Suddenly, a sand stag burst from cover. It was running erratically, trying to confuse it's pursuers, who were gallopping behind it, some 15 men on horses. The leader was opening a gap between himself and his companions, and closing the gap between himself and the stag. He could have shot him and downed him long ago, but instead he simply kept getting closer and closer to him. Finally, he was riding equal with the stag. Suddenly, he jumped from his horse onto the stag. The stag could not cope with the extra weight, and went down. The man picked up the stag, slung him on his shoulders, and tied his legs. He then took a horn that was hanging by his side and blew on it. "Damn it, you did it again!" said Yehuda. "Again?" Menelvagor repeated, one eyebrow raised questionably. "What did I do again?" "Capture the stag by yourself", interjected Efraim. "And you always do it!" "Well, if you could keep up, you would have a better chance of doing it", Menelvagor retorted. "But come, the past is past. We have a stag, and I grow weary of the hunt. Let us return to the castle." The fifteen horsemen rode through the dunes until the village around the castle, and then through the bailey, arriving at the stables. Each member of the Lord's Hunt took his horse to the stables, and went to seek his own bed. The Hunt was an elite organization, which had come with Menelvagor from beyond the sea. It numbered fifteen men, including Menelvagor himself, who was the master of the Hunt. His second in command was his cousin, Yehuda. He had a healer, Levi, and a priest, Aaron. His scout was Naftali. The rest, Reuben, Shimno, yissachar, Zebulun, Gad Dan, Asher, Efraim, Menashe and Benjamin all had their own specialty. Each one commanded part of the army in battle. They were Menelvagor's best friends, and his most trusted men. All of them, like himself, believed in Eru, The One. Menelvagor was in a good mood. The hunt had been a success. Blackmont and Sandstoen had joined him, and his allies had also reported success in their claims. And tommorrow was a new day. |
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| Menelvagor Curugil | Mar 28 2008, 01:55 AM Post #3 |
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Menelvagor sat in his study, reclining ih his chair, his feet on a stool. He was holding a knife in his hands. It was ornate, detailed, and beautiful. The centerpiece was a small diamond, the blade was the best steel one could have, excepting Valyrian Steel. The hilt was in the shape of a stooping falcon, with the croosguard being his wings. He played with it, throwing it up and catching it as it fell. then he turned towards the door. Holding the blade between thumb and forefinger he hurled it at the door. It spun towards the door, end over end... and was suddenly caught by the hilt by the same hand that opened the door. "A good catch, Naftali", said Menelvagor, not at all disturbed that he could hav killed him. "A catch is only as good as the throw", answered Natali, also not disturbed. "But I did not come here to play catch, my lord." "No?" asked Menelvagor with a raised eyebrow. "So waht news do you bring me that is so important?" "Nightsong has been attacked. Erus is hard pressed. He is not expected to win the battle, and consquently, he will lose the war." "This is disconcerting", Menelvagor said. "I hope he will manage to win, but I doubt it. Nevetheless, I cannot help him and I will continue in our path. I f we must, without him. It sounds cold and calculating, I know, but this is the Game of Thrones. It is not impossible that we will even ally with his killer, if we must. Sentiment has no room here." With that, Menelvagor stood up, and walked out of the room. |
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| Menelvagor Curugil | Apr 15 2008, 01:42 PM Post #4 |
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Yehoyada was on the walls of Starfall, talking eith his old friend Yoash, and guarding the walls. They talked of light matters: how was life, the wife, the kids, what they wanted to do, what they hoped their kids would , and such things. After a few minutes of such talk, they turned to more seirous matters: what would happen, if the council had gone well, who would be king if it had, who would they fight if it hadn't, and whether they will win. Even as they were discussing this, Yehoyada believing the Council would go well, and that Verathoc would be crowned king, Yoash saying that it will not happen, that The Tempest will attack and try to defeat them, they heward a horn. Long and winding it echoed in the mountains. Immediately realizing that was Levi's horn they shouted almost simaltaneously: "Open the gates!" For Levi was Menelvagors herald, and went nowhere without him. And Levi returning could olnly mean that Menelvagor had also returned. Indeed, as they looked over the walls, they saw a cloud of dust approaching at great speed, and could already distinguish the banners of each rider. They wondered what had happened, and were comforted by the fact that they would know soon enough. Menelvagor cursed as he rode over the desert towards his castle. He was in an uncharestically foul mood, and was angry. Angry at those idiot lords who had dared to give him hope for peace, and then snatch it right back. He had tried so hard to bring peace, wasted so much time and effort, and for what? Nothing. As he urged his horse into a galllop, wanting nothing more than to get to the castle and unwind in a long hot bath, he was reminded of the words of the Prologue to 'The Book of Fate': "Turn the page, and thousands die. And for what? For the pride of two leaders, brought together by an inexorable detiny and the power of two swords." How fitting! He though bitterly. That would be a great epitaph for this land. He did not plan to stay long in this land. Just long enough to see that indeed, there was no hope for peace, and if that was so, he would retire over the sea, back to his home, his family, and his betrothed. He galloped into the courtyard with his men of the Lord's Hunt, dusty and tired. His seneschal, Asher, came to greet him. "Nothing extraordinary while you were, gone, Menelvagor", he said. "I have given orders for a bath to be prepared for you, and a meal after that. Both are waiting in your chambers." "Thank you, Asher", Menelavgor said, relief obvious in his voice. "You know me too well. You will make me a hedonist, at this rate." "I would never do such a thing, my lord", Asher answered, "I would only give you your due." "Indeed, old friend", Menelvagor replied. "I am grateful that you know me so well". Menelvagor had bathed, ate, drank, and read a book. Now he sat on his chair behind his desk, pondering what had happened. He was not sure what he would do. He finally decided he was too tired to find a solution, and should devote his next few days to enjoyment rather than business. With that decision, he went to his sleeping quarters, and quickly fell into a deep sleep. A few days later, Menelvagor was reading a book in his room, feeling much better. He had spent the last three days saprring with his friends, training his horses, racing them across the desert, reading books, and enjoying philosophical discussions with other members of the Hunt. He was in abetter mood, and convinced he could bring peace to this land. He would start anew tomorrow. Even as these thoughts went through his head, the door to his room was abruptly opened, and Naftali walked in. Menelvagor looked at him, instantly alert and wary. Naftali was dusty, as if he had ridden very fast, and indeed he must have, for it was only noon, and he had been scouting, and had been expected to return at nghtfall. "What is it?" He asked, already knowing the answer in his heart. "Bad news, I take it?" "You could say that", Naftali said. "Lord Ranly has sent down an army. I came across his army in my travels, and rode here with all haste to warn you. The relatively good news is that he is not with them yet, they are yet a distance from here, and it will be about four days before they can attack, as they are laden with siege machines." "Lord Ranly", Menelvagor mused. "Perhaps I should have loosed a dart at hi in the council after all, and should have used one with a stronger sting than I threatened him with. After me, he was the first to agree to an election, yet it seems he has reverted to the old way. It was good of you to inform me of this, Naftali. I now have time to prepare. First to talk, and if that doesn't work, to war. Now go, get a bath, some food, and some rest. If we are to fight, I will need you." "Yes, my lord", Naftali said, and bowed out. Menelvagor thought. He had time, and was going to send messengers to Lord Ranly, asking him if this was truly what he desired. After all, he had heard that Lord Athidoc, who had objected to the election, had agreed. Perhaps Ranly would call of the attack. And if not... then he would learn that when a star fell, it created devastation all around him. |
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| Menelvagor Curugil | Apr 16 2008, 01:32 AM Post #5 |
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Menelvagor climbed the highest tower of his castle, and looked north. All he saw was a cloud of dust, retreating towards Blackmont. He smiled, then laughed. It had been so simple. One message that had reached Ranly, and he turned back. True, he still held Blackmont, and his army had not yet left, but he had promised to return it and leave as soon as a king was elected. In, truth, Menelvagor did not care much. Blackmont was not truly important, and that was why he had seen no reason to fight for it. No reason to lose troops because of some land and income. It was better this way. Negotiation and Diplomacy. "There is no 'One True Way' ", said the Book of Fate, and how true was that! He could have fought - and won, or he could have negotiated - and won. He preferred the better way - Negotiation. Soon the realm would be at peace, have a king, wardens, and he would finally be able to depart back home. |
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