Adrenaline had kept him up later than he'd have liked the night before. He was nervous, anxious about how he would perform in his new post. An hour or so in The Lodge's gym had helped him expend the excess energy enough to let him get some sleep, but a heavy dose of black coffee had been needed come morning. He had downed it quickly, nearly scalding his tongue in the process, before making his way to the loo to do a last check of his appearance. Appearances were nearly as important as performance as one of the Kohlewaldish Royal Rifleman, the official Military Police of the Kohlewaldish Infantry. The olive-drab button down shirt, complete with patches denoting his name and rank adorning his sleeves and chest. The matching britches, ironed smooth, leather boots laced up tight. Atop the carefully combed red-gold hair, a navy blue beret bearing the crest of the Royal Riflemen- two crossed rifles over a rising sun, a single bayonet beneath. From his belt hunt a leather holster, empty now, but soon to hold the customary Granov M1895 Semi-Automatic Handgun issued to the Royal Riflemen. All he had to do, now, was pick up his sidearm, and the standard issue Hammerlock SMHL Mk 2 Carbine he would be expected to carry- the same make and model he had carried during both his tours in Egyria.
Of course, a notice had been left at his locker in the morning informing him that his initial posting at the armory had been changed, and instead he would be taking up a position in The Main Hall, the central chamber of The Lodge's primary base, where the lead officers of ISOG, The Mavericks, would meet to be briefed or debriefed.
Today, however, there only seemed to be one Maverick on duty.
Of course, a notice had been left at his locker in the morning informing him that his initial posting at the armory had been changed, and instead he would be taking up a position in The Main Hall, the central chamber of The Lodge's primary base, where the lead officers of ISOG, The Mavericks, would meet to be briefed or debriefed.
Today, however, there only seemed to be one Maverick on duty.
The Mavericks were, technically speaking, civilian contractors. ISOG was the official military force, but it's primary acting agents, the tried-and-true "Mavericks", had no active affiliation with any international military or police force. A prime example being the only on-duty Maverick present at the moment.
Prince Devin Llancerey-Asures was certainly the public face of the Mavericks. Born in Stanislav, Moravia to the wealthy Llancerey family, it was revealed when he was twelve that his biological father was, in fact, King Thornston Asures of Kohlewald, due to a trist between the then Colonel Asures, already an accomplished war hero whom, at the time, led a PMC organization known as The Guild, and Lady Ivanna Llancerey. Though many Kohlewalds complained of a Moravian being placed on the throne, it hadn't changed the fact that Prince Devin was King Thornston's only male heir. As such, it had seemed that Devin was dead set on proving he was every bit as deserving of the throne as his father. Devin was young, handsome, athletic. A brilliant tactician, a professionally-trained equestrian, and a master fencer, he was the kind of hero mothers told stories of to their children. Of course, he was also arrogant, sexist, and somewhat biased of people whom lived in a lower social class than he. Behind his back, some of the other soldiers called him "The Brat Prince." Of course, never to his face, as he was clearly capable of thrashing nearly any of them. He hadn't gained the rank of the Maverick's Second-in-Command on his name and title, after all.
"You, there. Guard." He spoke, feet kicked up on the long central table, where he sat- not at the head, but right next to it. Irien quirked a brow, first glancing over his shoulder with a sidelong glance, then turning his head more fully.
"...Sir?"
"I've sent for a Ms. Lisbeth Sloane. Make sure to check her credentials, and then send her right in. Close the door behind her, and remain outside." He glanced up at the Greylunder with sapphire blue eyes, square jaw working as he ran his tongue across his front teeth. "We've matters to discuss that are above your paygrade."
Irien did his absolute best to hold back the glare that now strained at his face, turning back to face forward, towards the entrance to the room. "Sir, yes, Sir."
Prince Devin Llancerey-Asures was certainly the public face of the Mavericks. Born in Stanislav, Moravia to the wealthy Llancerey family, it was revealed when he was twelve that his biological father was, in fact, King Thornston Asures of Kohlewald, due to a trist between the then Colonel Asures, already an accomplished war hero whom, at the time, led a PMC organization known as The Guild, and Lady Ivanna Llancerey. Though many Kohlewalds complained of a Moravian being placed on the throne, it hadn't changed the fact that Prince Devin was King Thornston's only male heir. As such, it had seemed that Devin was dead set on proving he was every bit as deserving of the throne as his father. Devin was young, handsome, athletic. A brilliant tactician, a professionally-trained equestrian, and a master fencer, he was the kind of hero mothers told stories of to their children. Of course, he was also arrogant, sexist, and somewhat biased of people whom lived in a lower social class than he. Behind his back, some of the other soldiers called him "The Brat Prince." Of course, never to his face, as he was clearly capable of thrashing nearly any of them. He hadn't gained the rank of the Maverick's Second-in-Command on his name and title, after all.
"You, there. Guard." He spoke, feet kicked up on the long central table, where he sat- not at the head, but right next to it. Irien quirked a brow, first glancing over his shoulder with a sidelong glance, then turning his head more fully.
"...Sir?"
"I've sent for a Ms. Lisbeth Sloane. Make sure to check her credentials, and then send her right in. Close the door behind her, and remain outside." He glanced up at the Greylunder with sapphire blue eyes, square jaw working as he ran his tongue across his front teeth. "We've matters to discuss that are above your paygrade."
Irien did his absolute best to hold back the glare that now strained at his face, turning back to face forward, towards the entrance to the room. "Sir, yes, Sir."
Lisbeth had spent the better half of two hours or so reorganizing everything in her suitcases after she'd spent the night tearing them apart to make sure (for the fifth time) she had everything and to locate the last of her journals. She liked to be as organized as possible and, even when there wasn't a chance of any system, she liked to organized her chaos. But, let's face it - she was thrilled to be given the chance to locate something that was thought to be myth and, on top of that, locate her brothers. They were out there. She could feel it.
Now it seemed that she was being summoned. Her eyes glanced upward as she'd moved from her room, the loud speaker overhead chiming that she was required. So be it! She reached in, grabbing her side bag, before the door was shut and she was on her way. The blonde was glad to have gotten a good night's sleep, despite the growing anxiety she'd felt as the trip neared closer; would they run into any trouble? If Irien had tapped into the real reason the treasure was sought after, it was likely. Could she handle that? Well... she'd have to find out. She wouldn't back down, though - not when she was this close.
"Corporal!"
Lisbeth neared, gaving the man a smile and a wave before she stood a few feet in front of him. Unlike yesterday in breeches, she opted for a white button up tucked into a taupe skirt that was belted at the waist. Her glasses were on her face, but soon were tucked up atop her head - she wasn't reading, therefore didn't need them right this moment.
"I trust you slept well? You look refreshed."
She may have been blinded by her excitement of the day, maybe he didn't look completely rested - but, maybe that coffee did wonders! It seemed she didn't need coffee to be awake as that smile never left her face, though her eyes did leave his face to look at the door behind him.
"I, uh... suppose I'm needed...?"
Now it seemed that she was being summoned. Her eyes glanced upward as she'd moved from her room, the loud speaker overhead chiming that she was required. So be it! She reached in, grabbing her side bag, before the door was shut and she was on her way. The blonde was glad to have gotten a good night's sleep, despite the growing anxiety she'd felt as the trip neared closer; would they run into any trouble? If Irien had tapped into the real reason the treasure was sought after, it was likely. Could she handle that? Well... she'd have to find out. She wouldn't back down, though - not when she was this close.
"Corporal!"
Lisbeth neared, gaving the man a smile and a wave before she stood a few feet in front of him. Unlike yesterday in breeches, she opted for a white button up tucked into a taupe skirt that was belted at the waist. Her glasses were on her face, but soon were tucked up atop her head - she wasn't reading, therefore didn't need them right this moment.
"I trust you slept well? You look refreshed."
She may have been blinded by her excitement of the day, maybe he didn't look completely rested - but, maybe that coffee did wonders! It seemed she didn't need coffee to be awake as that smile never left her face, though her eyes did leave his face to look at the door behind him.
"I, uh... suppose I'm needed...?"
Irien (played by spillbloodnotwhiskey)
Topic Starter
Corporal, Kohlewaldish Infantr
June 14 2019
4:55am
Irien noticed the blonde coming down the hall, but didn't seem to physically react, much. In part, it was nerves. It was his first day, he wanted to get everything right but mostly it was training.
Security postings varied. Currently, his was stationary. His job was to stand entirely still, eyes constantly scanning, ears attuned. His rifle remained firm in his hands, propped against his shoulder. His pistol on his right hip, a wooden truncheon hanging from the left, as she addressed him, his eyes locked onto her momentarily.
"Ma'am." He turned on his heel, rotating and resuming stance, though now with his back to the doorframe, so he could watch her enter the room. He wasn't in a position to respond to her statement, professionally.
He sincerely hoped she would understand that it wasn't, at all, personal.
Security postings varied. Currently, his was stationary. His job was to stand entirely still, eyes constantly scanning, ears attuned. His rifle remained firm in his hands, propped against his shoulder. His pistol on his right hip, a wooden truncheon hanging from the left, as she addressed him, his eyes locked onto her momentarily.
"Ma'am." He turned on his heel, rotating and resuming stance, though now with his back to the doorframe, so he could watch her enter the room. He wasn't in a position to respond to her statement, professionally.
He sincerely hoped she would understand that it wasn't, at all, personal.
The assignment was simple. Axe was retired, he had spent the last three years learning the subtle nuances of the Culinary Arts. So, here he was neck deep in Mavericks, working as their Culinary professional. Of course once he arrived on base Axe would discover the task was everything except simple.
Sunrise came, and went without notice. He was up hours before, methodically moved through the basic maintenance on his arm. A satisfyingly loud thunk in his chamber when he snapped the mechanical Marvel on the stub of his left. The shine of metal playing off the gentle light of an old lantern. Two canisters popped in their housing below his arm pit. Another four dropped in his belt. Tucked just at the hem of his shirt.
Soon he was on his way, leather knife bag tucked neatly under his arm, it was first day and all. As he made his way to the kitchen the man took note. No guards. Not this early. The store room was unlocked and in total disarray. After a tedious amount of organizing and ticking off inventory he was finishing up with a sweep. A cluck of his tongue, head shaking back and forth he moved on to the kitchen itself.
Hardly a step through the door and a fly across the small room could see the vein pulsating in his neck and forehead. His teeth ground loudly and he slammed that mechanical left into the stone, dust crumbling from the blow. The room stunk. What equipment he did see was pick marked and rusted, or cover in food mess.
Aksel snapped his teeth shut, scooping up a skillet in his free hand as he tucked his personal blades under his arm. The stout man then performed an about face and made his way to the "Boss"
The bronze skinned man, wild sandy brown hair accenting his murderous glare, arrived at those doors shortly after the lady, the faint fall of his steps hardly noticeable. Some idiot guard was standing there with his back turned and the door wide open, so the Axe struck, shoving through the lad as he barreled into the room.
"Oi, Princess, what the fuck kinda show yeh runnin here?" He bellowed, throwing the rusted dented and food crusted pan at the Prince's feet. "Yer food stuffs are shit, yer equipment looks like it ain't been cleaned get YEARS." As he drew in another breath he was stomping closer, "It's an act'o`God yeh aint killed anyone with this slop, this is UNACCEPTABLE"
Sunrise came, and went without notice. He was up hours before, methodically moved through the basic maintenance on his arm. A satisfyingly loud thunk in his chamber when he snapped the mechanical Marvel on the stub of his left. The shine of metal playing off the gentle light of an old lantern. Two canisters popped in their housing below his arm pit. Another four dropped in his belt. Tucked just at the hem of his shirt.
Soon he was on his way, leather knife bag tucked neatly under his arm, it was first day and all. As he made his way to the kitchen the man took note. No guards. Not this early. The store room was unlocked and in total disarray. After a tedious amount of organizing and ticking off inventory he was finishing up with a sweep. A cluck of his tongue, head shaking back and forth he moved on to the kitchen itself.
Hardly a step through the door and a fly across the small room could see the vein pulsating in his neck and forehead. His teeth ground loudly and he slammed that mechanical left into the stone, dust crumbling from the blow. The room stunk. What equipment he did see was pick marked and rusted, or cover in food mess.
Aksel snapped his teeth shut, scooping up a skillet in his free hand as he tucked his personal blades under his arm. The stout man then performed an about face and made his way to the "Boss"
The bronze skinned man, wild sandy brown hair accenting his murderous glare, arrived at those doors shortly after the lady, the faint fall of his steps hardly noticeable. Some idiot guard was standing there with his back turned and the door wide open, so the Axe struck, shoving through the lad as he barreled into the room.
"Oi, Princess, what the fuck kinda show yeh runnin here?" He bellowed, throwing the rusted dented and food crusted pan at the Prince's feet. "Yer food stuffs are shit, yer equipment looks like it ain't been cleaned get YEARS." As he drew in another breath he was stomping closer, "It's an act'o`God yeh aint killed anyone with this slop, this is UNACCEPTABLE"
'Ma'am.'
The blonde was puzzled only for a moment before...
"Ah. Right."
She was quieter then, glancing to her shoes a brief second with a knowing smirk. Protocol and all that was probably important. Unfortunately, it was lost on her most of the time. However, she understood and, her eyes returning to Irien's face, she gave a slight wink, a sort of 'I get it', before she was moving through and standing somewhat off center.
Her eyes cast around the room before they landed on the man at the desk, her brows pitched upward and her smile polite. Had she met him before? She didn't think so... Though she was sure she'd remember if she had. Her hand started to stretch out his way before--
Lisbeth's eyes snapped to the new man shoving his way inside, instinctively taking a few steps to the side to give him more room. What was this about?! The pan was thrown and the woman froze at the state of it. They had just eaten... Oh, no.
Her lips mashed together, eyes turned upward as she willed herself not to gag. She'd eaten some rather interesting things in her travels, but even then there was a certain cleanliness to it all. This? This made her turn physically away from the pan, a hand moving to her mouth.
Ooh, no.
The blonde was puzzled only for a moment before...
"Ah. Right."
She was quieter then, glancing to her shoes a brief second with a knowing smirk. Protocol and all that was probably important. Unfortunately, it was lost on her most of the time. However, she understood and, her eyes returning to Irien's face, she gave a slight wink, a sort of 'I get it', before she was moving through and standing somewhat off center.
Her eyes cast around the room before they landed on the man at the desk, her brows pitched upward and her smile polite. Had she met him before? She didn't think so... Though she was sure she'd remember if she had. Her hand started to stretch out his way before--
Lisbeth's eyes snapped to the new man shoving his way inside, instinctively taking a few steps to the side to give him more room. What was this about?! The pan was thrown and the woman froze at the state of it. They had just eaten... Oh, no.
Her lips mashed together, eyes turned upward as she willed herself not to gag. She'd eaten some rather interesting things in her travels, but even then there was a certain cleanliness to it all. This? This made her turn physically away from the pan, a hand moving to her mouth.
Ooh, no.
Irien (played by spillbloodnotwhiskey)
Topic Starter
Corporal, Kohlewaldish Infantr
June 14 2019
10:37pm
The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a barely noticeable smile at her wink, but quickly resumed the flat, stolid look from before.
Fortunately, too, as it was clear that they had reached their quota of mirth for the day.
The shorter, dusk-skinned man rushed passed him, hollering and carrying on, and Irien reacted quickly. The rifle, which had been slung behind his shoulder, spun under his arm, the butt of the stock pressing firmly to his shoulder and the barrel rising to level right at the back of the newcomer.
"Sir, put your hands in the air and slowly turn." His voice was loud, but firm and calm. He made sure to keep the barrel out of distance so that the man could not turn and grasp it in an attempt to disarm him. He learned that the hard way in Nafisah.
Fortunately, too, as it was clear that they had reached their quota of mirth for the day.
The shorter, dusk-skinned man rushed passed him, hollering and carrying on, and Irien reacted quickly. The rifle, which had been slung behind his shoulder, spun under his arm, the butt of the stock pressing firmly to his shoulder and the barrel rising to level right at the back of the newcomer.
"Sir, put your hands in the air and slowly turn." His voice was loud, but firm and calm. He made sure to keep the barrel out of distance so that the man could not turn and grasp it in an attempt to disarm him. He learned that the hard way in Nafisah.
Kevin's eyes lifted suddenly at the commotion, and he quickly dropped his booted feet to the floor, blonde brow furrowing. He quickly saw the guard react, rifle at the ready- though clearly a good deal slower than necessary, as the other man made it past him.
"I see. You are the new head cook, yes? A mister..." Devin leaned down to lift the paper back into husband and glance it over once more, "Kayle?" He made no attempt to ask if he was pronouncing the oddly-spelled surname correctly. "I'm sorry you feel as if our facilities are not up to snuff, sir. Perhaps it did not occur to you that this was the very reason in which we bothered to hire a new head of kitchen staff, no? It is your job to address the state of the kitchen and see to it's improvement. It is my job, currently and with a measure of disappointment thus far, to coordinate personnel. Hence, I have delegated the task to you."
He took a few steps forward, now standing very close to Axe- a good head taller than the bronze-skinned chef. "Your tone, Mr. Kayle, is inappropriate of your rank and standing. If you address me in this manner again, the only meals you will be preparing will be cold broth and stale bread in a dark Kohlewaldish prison, somewhere deep underground. I hope I am understood." He turned back away from Axe, back to the table, where he reshuffled the papers. "Wait outside, Mr. Kayle, with the... guard." The tone in which he spoke the final word was one of disdain. "And afterwards we can discuss personnel changes in your kitchen and assign cleaning duties."
His head turned, blue eyes gazing out into the hallway. "...Ms. Sloane? You may come in, now. We've matters to discuss."
"I see. You are the new head cook, yes? A mister..." Devin leaned down to lift the paper back into husband and glance it over once more, "Kayle?" He made no attempt to ask if he was pronouncing the oddly-spelled surname correctly. "I'm sorry you feel as if our facilities are not up to snuff, sir. Perhaps it did not occur to you that this was the very reason in which we bothered to hire a new head of kitchen staff, no? It is your job to address the state of the kitchen and see to it's improvement. It is my job, currently and with a measure of disappointment thus far, to coordinate personnel. Hence, I have delegated the task to you."
He took a few steps forward, now standing very close to Axe- a good head taller than the bronze-skinned chef. "Your tone, Mr. Kayle, is inappropriate of your rank and standing. If you address me in this manner again, the only meals you will be preparing will be cold broth and stale bread in a dark Kohlewaldish prison, somewhere deep underground. I hope I am understood." He turned back away from Axe, back to the table, where he reshuffled the papers. "Wait outside, Mr. Kayle, with the... guard." The tone in which he spoke the final word was one of disdain. "And afterwards we can discuss personnel changes in your kitchen and assign cleaning duties."
His head turned, blue eyes gazing out into the hallway. "...Ms. Sloane? You may come in, now. We've matters to discuss."
He hardly smiled. This meeting was going better than he expected, after everything he had heard in rumors about the Prince. Irien was hardly given a second thought as Devin continued to address the man. "Understood, Sir," he growled. Finally he was letting the full scope of the scene wash over him.
A beautiful woman. Her glasses neatly tucked in her hair and a messenger type bag at her hip. The Prince with a pile of various papers at his fingers, including his own file.
Aksel made a neat about face, his heels clicking loudly before he started to step to. The leather satchel of his kitchen blades removed from under his arm, grasped gently in his mechanical arm. It was his understanding, and hope, of the excellent training of all Kohlewald military personnel that allowed him to ignore the Man-Child with a weapon trained on him as he calmly walk past. A cluck of his tongue was followed immediately by an odd mechanical hiss as he folded his arms behind his back. The man stopping at parade rest.
"Snap decision, kid. Got both our asses in a sling cause I let my temper get the best of me." His face now devoid of the emotion it so colorfully displayed 5 minutes before.
A beautiful woman. Her glasses neatly tucked in her hair and a messenger type bag at her hip. The Prince with a pile of various papers at his fingers, including his own file.
Aksel made a neat about face, his heels clicking loudly before he started to step to. The leather satchel of his kitchen blades removed from under his arm, grasped gently in his mechanical arm. It was his understanding, and hope, of the excellent training of all Kohlewald military personnel that allowed him to ignore the Man-Child with a weapon trained on him as he calmly walk past. A cluck of his tongue was followed immediately by an odd mechanical hiss as he folded his arms behind his back. The man stopping at parade rest.
"Snap decision, kid. Got both our asses in a sling cause I let my temper get the best of me." His face now devoid of the emotion it so colorfully displayed 5 minutes before.
As the man (now apparent to the others as the cook) moved out to the hall, Lisbeth carefully side stepped around him. The fury he'd had only moments ago suddenly disappeared, but Lisbeth wasn't taking any chances; better steer clear of whatever war path he was on. She hadn't even noticed the arm, to tell the truth; the pan had done enough to keep her attention.
As she was summoned, Lisbeth removed her hand from her mouth and smoothed her skirt and shirt out; it was a sad attempt to make herself presentable while her face still held a little disgust for what she'd just seen. She might not eat for a few days after that one... Either that, or stick to coffee.
"Er- thank you."
Lisbeth mumbled slightly as she wasn't entirely sure what to say at that moment. Either way, it was said as she entered the room, toeing the dirty pan away from her own path before she settled her eyes back on the man in front of her.
"Lisbeth Sloane, sir."
Her hand pushed it's way toward him. He knew who she was, but a formal greeting never hurt anyone! Maybe wasted time, but... It didn't hurt anyone.
As she was summoned, Lisbeth removed her hand from her mouth and smoothed her skirt and shirt out; it was a sad attempt to make herself presentable while her face still held a little disgust for what she'd just seen. She might not eat for a few days after that one... Either that, or stick to coffee.
"Er- thank you."
Lisbeth mumbled slightly as she wasn't entirely sure what to say at that moment. Either way, it was said as she entered the room, toeing the dirty pan away from her own path before she settled her eyes back on the man in front of her.
"Lisbeth Sloane, sir."
Her hand pushed it's way toward him. He knew who she was, but a formal greeting never hurt anyone! Maybe wasted time, but... It didn't hurt anyone.
Irien (played by spillbloodnotwhiskey)
Topic Starter
Corporal, Kohlewaldish Infantr
June 15 2019
11:35am
Irien was having a hard time masking his frustration. Despite his attempts to remain professional, he'd allowed his focus to settle on Ms. Sloane to the point that he's let a potential threat slip past him. That frying pan could have been aimed at Prince Devin's head! Or worse...
What if it hadn't been a pan?
As Axe exited the room and into the hall, of his own free will, Irien slowly raised the barrel of his rifle towards the roof, laying his finger along the stock rather than allowing it forest over the trigger.
In truth, he was infuriated. But that wasn't going to help him any. First principle of Krav Kadosh: Separate Aggression of Action from Aggression of Emotion.
"Sir." He spoke shortly. He didn't want to lose focus from the task at hand. Not again.
What if it hadn't been a pan?
As Axe exited the room and into the hall, of his own free will, Irien slowly raised the barrel of his rifle towards the roof, laying his finger along the stock rather than allowing it forest over the trigger.
In truth, he was infuriated. But that wasn't going to help him any. First principle of Krav Kadosh: Separate Aggression of Action from Aggression of Emotion.
"Sir." He spoke shortly. He didn't want to lose focus from the task at hand. Not again.
"Yes, Ms. Sloane, I know who you are. Sit. Please."
The table places seven on each side. At one end, another, larger chair. The other end, which faced a large topographical map of the world, held no seat. Prince Devin set in a chair near the end, next to the head of the table but not at it. Again, be kicked his feet up and took the papers in hand.
"Let me see... Richards. Ryce. Santana... S-say... sayyyyy... S-No, I will not even attempt to pronounce that mess... Sigfried... Ahh. Sloane, here." He lightly waved the papers her way. "I detest desk work, but The Captain has left me in charge and it just so happens to coincide with a rather hefty personnel change. I begin to wonder if the two events might be linked." He chuckled lightly to himself.
"So. Ms. Slo-- might I call you Lisbeth?" He patiently awaited her response before continuing. "This... Egyria business. Seems a bit of a mess to start, if you ask me. Tell me, this... item. Or collection, or what-have-you. How do you intend to proceed finding it? Egyria is such a large, rather... desolate land." His sapphire eyes turned to the papers. "Have you been before? To Egyria, that is."
The table places seven on each side. At one end, another, larger chair. The other end, which faced a large topographical map of the world, held no seat. Prince Devin set in a chair near the end, next to the head of the table but not at it. Again, be kicked his feet up and took the papers in hand.
"Let me see... Richards. Ryce. Santana... S-say... sayyyyy... S-No, I will not even attempt to pronounce that mess... Sigfried... Ahh. Sloane, here." He lightly waved the papers her way. "I detest desk work, but The Captain has left me in charge and it just so happens to coincide with a rather hefty personnel change. I begin to wonder if the two events might be linked." He chuckled lightly to himself.
"So. Ms. Slo-- might I call you Lisbeth?" He patiently awaited her response before continuing. "This... Egyria business. Seems a bit of a mess to start, if you ask me. Tell me, this... item. Or collection, or what-have-you. How do you intend to proceed finding it? Egyria is such a large, rather... desolate land." His sapphire eyes turned to the papers. "Have you been before? To Egyria, that is."
For the moment Aksel stood in silence, his eyes lazily staring ahead. He couldn't help tapping the buckled satchel of blades with his forefinger and thumb; tick, tack, kiessh. The smallest release of a harmless bi-product from the use of such delicate movements. For Axe it was just more of the same, hardly given conscious thought.
The silence after the fact would almost scream out to the strange sound coming from Axe. That lazy gaze turning into active vigor, eyes flicking from floor to ceiling, then toward Irien. His head giving the slightest indication that he was, in fact, looking at the guard. Not down the hall.
As the silence continued, as it probably would given Iriens curt response, Axe shifted from that subtle glance to face Irien. The weaponry, his calm demeanour despite his mistake, and a solid build. If his now not so subtle gaze did not incite words, Axe would present his own.
"Still Military? Yah look like a trench man, purty comfortable with that hardware."
The silence after the fact would almost scream out to the strange sound coming from Axe. That lazy gaze turning into active vigor, eyes flicking from floor to ceiling, then toward Irien. His head giving the slightest indication that he was, in fact, looking at the guard. Not down the hall.
As the silence continued, as it probably would given Iriens curt response, Axe shifted from that subtle glance to face Irien. The weaponry, his calm demeanour despite his mistake, and a solid build. If his now not so subtle gaze did not incite words, Axe would present his own.
"Still Military? Yah look like a trench man, purty comfortable with that hardware."
Her lips pursed and her fingers curled into her palm as her hand was left untaken and she was instructed to sit.
Well then.
She took it was a sign that they must hurry along the meeting, and not one of disrespect, as she did take a seat across from him, the furthest away, and set the bag down by her feet for now. The journals and texts inside would prove helpful in the following questions.
The blonde nodded lightly when he asked to call her Lisbeth, and then as he continued on, she would leave forward to pluck a few hours also from the bag.
Had she been? "A few times." was said softly. Except she left out the part where those few times had been in her childhood and not recent. The only way she got her brothers' journals from there just so happened to be a family friend who had traveled along. When the brothers went missing, everything had been left behind - including those journals.
"I have a detailed account of where we- where I think The Eye is. That is, the All Seeing Eye of Rah'man."
She produced one journal after flipping to a sketched picture of said artifact; alongside that sketch were bits about it, rumors that pointed to more factual than not. At least, to her it did. The scribblings made sense to the woman, but might be lost on near everyone else. Rumor had it that the Eye held all the knowledge of the world and it was kept away from man kind, knowing that man would abuse the knowledge. Of course, finding the Eye was tricky because it was so obscure, but...
"I believe it's hidden in the tomb of the Lost King. Which..."
Lost didn't necessarily put a lot of trust in anyone...but she paused, glancing over to the head of the table.
"May I?"
She moved from her seat to the world map on the table, adjusting her stance to point a firm digit on a place in Egyria - it was a whole lot of desert, the nearest town a day or so journey on horse back... But she was certain in her position.
"Here. It's been searched before, yes, but not correctly. It wasn't known what to look for. But we have it now."
She was excited, the smile on her face and the gleam in her eye was easy to spot. There was no hiding - she felt it.
Well then.
She took it was a sign that they must hurry along the meeting, and not one of disrespect, as she did take a seat across from him, the furthest away, and set the bag down by her feet for now. The journals and texts inside would prove helpful in the following questions.
The blonde nodded lightly when he asked to call her Lisbeth, and then as he continued on, she would leave forward to pluck a few hours also from the bag.
Had she been? "A few times." was said softly. Except she left out the part where those few times had been in her childhood and not recent. The only way she got her brothers' journals from there just so happened to be a family friend who had traveled along. When the brothers went missing, everything had been left behind - including those journals.
"I have a detailed account of where we- where I think The Eye is. That is, the All Seeing Eye of Rah'man."
She produced one journal after flipping to a sketched picture of said artifact; alongside that sketch were bits about it, rumors that pointed to more factual than not. At least, to her it did. The scribblings made sense to the woman, but might be lost on near everyone else. Rumor had it that the Eye held all the knowledge of the world and it was kept away from man kind, knowing that man would abuse the knowledge. Of course, finding the Eye was tricky because it was so obscure, but...
"I believe it's hidden in the tomb of the Lost King. Which..."
Lost didn't necessarily put a lot of trust in anyone...but she paused, glancing over to the head of the table.
"May I?"
She moved from her seat to the world map on the table, adjusting her stance to point a firm digit on a place in Egyria - it was a whole lot of desert, the nearest town a day or so journey on horse back... But she was certain in her position.
"Here. It's been searched before, yes, but not correctly. It wasn't known what to look for. But we have it now."
She was excited, the smile on her face and the gleam in her eye was easy to spot. There was no hiding - she felt it.
Irien (played by spillbloodnotwhiskey)
Topic Starter
Corporal, Kohlewaldish Infantr
June 17 2019
8:32pm
Irien glanced at Axe for a brief, blink-of-an-eye moment, then back ahead, without a word. Mayhaps Mr. Kae'l wasn't fully aware of the workings if Kohlewaldish military, if he couldn't tell from the insignia on the Greylunder's uniform that he was, indeed, still in the military. Irien had briefed himself on other newcomers to the compound whom may or may not have been fully vetted, yet, but it seemed the file on Aksel Kae'l was pretty slim, only bare information. He was Lagozi, or at least part. The other wasn't mentioned, though the fact that he had some known ties to Moravia made it likely that could account for the rest of his genetics. As to the origins in his arm, the information was present, but in the copy of the file Irien had been allowed, it had been redacted.
He was a cook. But his build, his level of musculature, and even the way he walked, spoke of a combat history. Lagozi blood spoke to the likelihood of a martial background in Layunin- meaning kitchen knives or not, letting the chef walk around with that roll was the same as letting another man roam the halls with a loaded pistol.
He'd have to be watched.
He was a cook. But his build, his level of musculature, and even the way he walked, spoke of a combat history. Lagozi blood spoke to the likelihood of a martial background in Layunin- meaning kitchen knives or not, letting the chef walk around with that roll was the same as letting another man roam the halls with a loaded pistol.
He'd have to be watched.
"Hmm. This... tomb, as you say. Tell me of it. Whom is buried there, this... Lost King. I am not so well versed in Ancient Egyrian mythology." It was obvious Devin wasn't taking much if this seriously. He didn't believe in legends, and he wasn't particularly convinced The Eye even existed.
The Prince had barely looked up from his papers, and barely shown any interest in what was going on.
The Prince had barely looked up from his papers, and barely shown any interest in what was going on.
'Mythology'. It made Lisbeth purse her lips tight. She hated that, but understood it; there was so much mystery surrounding much of ancient Egyria that it was easy to believe a lot of the texts were just stories. But, there was more to it than that... much more.
"Ah'khmet. He was believed to be one of the youngest kings and also the longest ruling... also one of the most beloved and wealthy."
As she spoke, she was reaching to scoop up another journal she'd left on the table and flipping a few pages to find the information on said 'Lost King'.
"Which is why it is so interesting that his tomb has yet to be discovered. It is said that they believed if the tomb was found, it would be ransacked. So, they hid it. So well that they lost it."
She produced the writings to him, but it was more like she set it down on the table for him to glance at if he had any inclination. She didn't need to be painted a picture of how uninterested he was, but he asked... so she'd give the abridged version.
"Treasures and material items are the least valuable things buried with him - he was the one that found The Eye. Well, gifted from the Gods, but..."
She waved a hand; even that was a little far fetched to her, but she continued on.
"... he had it buried with him, knowing that mankind would abuse the power that came with it. Another reason why his tomb is hidden so well - he had a hand in laying out where he was to be buried."
Lisbeth paused, watching exactly how uninterested he was in the whole conversation. A slight frown formed as she took a seat, a little displeasure creasing her brow. Why did he ask if he didn't want to know?
"Ah'khmet. He was believed to be one of the youngest kings and also the longest ruling... also one of the most beloved and wealthy."
As she spoke, she was reaching to scoop up another journal she'd left on the table and flipping a few pages to find the information on said 'Lost King'.
"Which is why it is so interesting that his tomb has yet to be discovered. It is said that they believed if the tomb was found, it would be ransacked. So, they hid it. So well that they lost it."
She produced the writings to him, but it was more like she set it down on the table for him to glance at if he had any inclination. She didn't need to be painted a picture of how uninterested he was, but he asked... so she'd give the abridged version.
"Treasures and material items are the least valuable things buried with him - he was the one that found The Eye. Well, gifted from the Gods, but..."
She waved a hand; even that was a little far fetched to her, but she continued on.
"... he had it buried with him, knowing that mankind would abuse the power that came with it. Another reason why his tomb is hidden so well - he had a hand in laying out where he was to be buried."
Lisbeth paused, watching exactly how uninterested he was in the whole conversation. A slight frown formed as she took a seat, a little displeasure creasing her brow. Why did he ask if he didn't want to know?
Of course Aksel noticed the uniform and insignia, but a uniform meant nothing. Anyone could put themselves in that uniform. For all Axe knew the uniform was a momento. However the actions of Irien spoke volumes. Aksel sighed and shook his head,
"Damn Kohlewald military, aint none of yah got a sense of humor". His muttering hardly audible as he turned away from the bigger man and simply folded himself into a sitting position. Right leg neatly crossed over left and his knife holder laid across his lap, now revealing the fact that it was buckled close.
For a few moments Axe sat without movement, then he started fishing around in one pocket, then another. Eventually producing a couple of small screwdrivers and began to poke his left hand. First in one place, then another. To Irien it seemed like he was doing nothing, but what he was really doing had to do with delicate machinations of the hand.
"Damn Kohlewald military, aint none of yah got a sense of humor". His muttering hardly audible as he turned away from the bigger man and simply folded himself into a sitting position. Right leg neatly crossed over left and his knife holder laid across his lap, now revealing the fact that it was buckled close.
For a few moments Axe sat without movement, then he started fishing around in one pocket, then another. Eventually producing a couple of small screwdrivers and began to poke his left hand. First in one place, then another. To Irien it seemed like he was doing nothing, but what he was really doing had to do with delicate machinations of the hand.
Irien (played by spillbloodnotwhiskey)
Topic Starter
Corporal, Kohlewaldish Infantr
June 23 2019
10:57am
No sense of humor.
A warm fire, a pitcher of stout, and a handful of good stories, and the Greylunder would be all smiles and laughs through the night. But there was no fire here. No good stories being told. And certainly no pitchers, right now. He was on duty. The Royal Riflemen might not be as elite as ISOG, but it was still a promotion, and one of importance, so it was necessary to act as professionally as possible. He took his career very seriously.
Irien's brother had served in the Infantry, for one tour, and was out as quickly as he could. His father managed to avoid the draft for the Triadic, thankfully enough, but his grandfather had done two tours- one in Gama and one in Moravia- as a sniper. Irien's family was no stranger to the military, and he was intent on doing them proud.
As Aksel began fiddling with his arm, Irien took a moment to glance at it. Automail was fledgling technology, still not widely available to the public. A state-of-the-art prosthetic was attached to the body, integrated with the nervous system, and gave the patient at least a partial sense of normalcy. The military was pushing hard to make Automail more widely available to wounded soldiers, but for all the wrong reasons. Rather than repairing fallen, wounded soldiers, they intended to equip amputee fighters with weaponized limbs. The AN had been avoiding the topic, claiming their focus at the moment had to be on the tensions in Egyria, but he knew in truth that the house stood divided on the merits of automail.
Irien understood almost none of how the technology worked, but to be honest the concept made him feel uneasy. Who knew what that arm of Aksel's was capable of?
A warm fire, a pitcher of stout, and a handful of good stories, and the Greylunder would be all smiles and laughs through the night. But there was no fire here. No good stories being told. And certainly no pitchers, right now. He was on duty. The Royal Riflemen might not be as elite as ISOG, but it was still a promotion, and one of importance, so it was necessary to act as professionally as possible. He took his career very seriously.
Irien's brother had served in the Infantry, for one tour, and was out as quickly as he could. His father managed to avoid the draft for the Triadic, thankfully enough, but his grandfather had done two tours- one in Gama and one in Moravia- as a sniper. Irien's family was no stranger to the military, and he was intent on doing them proud.
As Aksel began fiddling with his arm, Irien took a moment to glance at it. Automail was fledgling technology, still not widely available to the public. A state-of-the-art prosthetic was attached to the body, integrated with the nervous system, and gave the patient at least a partial sense of normalcy. The military was pushing hard to make Automail more widely available to wounded soldiers, but for all the wrong reasons. Rather than repairing fallen, wounded soldiers, they intended to equip amputee fighters with weaponized limbs. The AN had been avoiding the topic, claiming their focus at the moment had to be on the tensions in Egyria, but he knew in truth that the house stood divided on the merits of automail.
Irien understood almost none of how the technology worked, but to be honest the concept made him feel uneasy. Who knew what that arm of Aksel's was capable of?
"Ah, yes, I've heard of this... Akmet." Devin's voice carried an odd accent- he'd spent half his life in Moravia, and half in Kohlewald, so it seemed an odd blending of the two- and often made pronunciation of words in other languages difficult. "I have also heard a rumor that his final resting place is... cursed? Am I mistaken in that?" Of course, Devin didn't believe in curses. Perhaps he was poking fun at her? Or perhaps he was addressing whether or not there might have been some kind of factual evidence that might have led to the rumor. It was hard to tell which from his tone, or the look on his face. Afterall, if the tomb hadn't yet been discovered, how could people know it was cursed? Or perhaps he was remembering a legend of a different tomb, completely.
"This Eye. What is it supposed to do, per chance? Enlighten me." He leaned forward in his seat, fingers lightly pushing the reading material around and glancing at it rather lazily, still not lifting his gaze to look at her. He looked bored. Then again, Devin was a career adventurer more at home on the battlefield with a sword in hand than sitting at a table going over the logistics of an archaeological discovery.
"This Eye. What is it supposed to do, per chance? Enlighten me." He leaned forward in his seat, fingers lightly pushing the reading material around and glancing at it rather lazily, still not lifting his gaze to look at her. He looked bored. Then again, Devin was a career adventurer more at home on the battlefield with a sword in hand than sitting at a table going over the logistics of an archaeological discovery.
