concordancegrimoires | Entries tagged with vayne carudas solidor

I'm quite determined to expand my newest line of ladies' accessories with toadskin. It will be all the rage. Check the Targ Wood for an oversized toad and bring me its skin.

[Vayne had first espied the flyer in another tavern, another day, and in some ways, another time. Since that date, much had changed, but the need for money remained the same. As someone wise had once said, death and taxes were the only sure things in life, particularly a social one.]

[To Jylland Vayne and Cid go, and after such a trip cooped up in the airship, Vayne himself is eager to stretch his legs, to shake off some of the dull overhang of the recent events he has read in his grimoire. The revivals are disturbing, and only serve to push the once Emperor to see that Ultima's goals, clouded in shadows as they are, come further to light.. He has naught but disinterest in wasting time.]

[When they disembark, the man takes to the map he has stuffed away in the recesses of his clothing from his recent trips to these areas, once more changed thanks to their efforts (and Vayne's personal disinterest in needless suffering at the behest of the altering elements). From the aerodome in Moorabella, Vayne sees they are secured transportation (as simply walking is not near fast enough for his liking - to be so distant from the port they have begun to make efforts to control is dangerous to say the least), they make their path to the Targ Wood, a quiet, beautiful area, particularly at such an hour of the morning, a small village nestled within its grasp.]

[The man turns to his companion, gesturing to the forest. A smile graces his lips.] "'Tis a quaint place, no? One is left to wonder what sort of toad causes such interests to be ascertained with fulminating haste." [He is, of course, referring to the confident snobbery of the merchant they had cause to meet before they embarked on this venture. While Vayne has grown up with such snobbery, and indeed, it can be said to be an expected trait of Empires, or really anyone with any sort of pride, he is oft struck by how silly it all truly is.]

__________

Later in the evening, back in Balfonheim Port...

[It had been a successful day, though by Vayne's reckoning, it could have gone better as easily as it could have gone worse. There were always options, and after his habitual flip through his grimoire to see if any responses or other terrible words and portents of misfortune had been scrawled, the Solidor sets about seeing his starting influence on the port itself has not waned. Vayne knows he himself cannot be as visible as Cidolfus, due to his history, but he can assure that some measures are taken, and that some members of the 9th have more favorable reports to turn to their superior - it's manipulative, but it's a game he knows well. ]

((ooc: okay, so this is a joint hunt with the good Dr. Cid and Vayne, backdated to the 18th, eep! The second half is actually more intended for Adelle, but if you'd like to come by Balfonheim and talk to Cid or Vayne, please tag with "Balfonheim Port" somewhere and you can request the specific character.))

lordling

[It's late, nearly the midnight hour, when the air in the palace of Archades changes. Few will notice it. A mage here, a scholar there, but none know where it came from or what it is. It slips through the palace silently, having been given free reign over where it passes, dipping through the near-silent corridors until it finds its target.

The room is large and dim as the asp slithers in. None would suspect a snake, a desert snake, to have found its way here, but it has. The sleeping teenager is completely oblivious, as lost in rest as he is. At least, he is until the sting of the bite penetrates his dreams. A cry, soft at first blow and then building steam, breaks through the night until it's abruptly cut off. A thump follows and then a second, louder thump.

The asp has escaped and the Emperor has fallen.

It's very early in the morning when the grimoires all across Ivalice begin to scrawl the same message across one page.]

At the midnight hour on 20th of Skyfrost, Lord Larsa has been poisoned by a desert snake.

suntierce

[ It is early upon the morn of the seventeenth of Skyfrost that the grimoires may see some life for the black script scrawling intently across the page. The pace is slow to moderate, relaxed despite the weight of a declaration which reads thus: ]

Upon this day, Lord Rasler Heios Nabradia, last of the Heios line of the Dynast King, heir and crown prince of the Kingdom of Nabradia, formerly husband of Queen Ashelia B'nargain Dalmasca was brought back to life by the High Seraph.

[ It is well into the evening that another line sees fit to scrawl across the page, this time at a slightly quicker speed and punctuated with finality. ]

Upon this day, Reks joined the party of Lord Rasler Heios Nabradia.

dispirits

[For those who happen to be browsing their grimoires in the early hours of the 16th of Skyfrost, they'll find a short message neatly penned in]

Reks was, upon this day, brought back to life by the High Seraph.

[No further details appear at this time]

equanimiti

[ Scrawled in fine penmanship is a message written by someone quite adept with the politics of the Ivalice. His choice of language is quite archaic and yet proper at the same time. The writer is clearly someone of high-birth judging from his mastery of language, but certainly sounds very Archadian...]

My return to Ivalice was long overdue. Much has changed since my departure to lands vast and unknown, but my thoughts always lingered here. Though with that stated one must wonder why our realm has changed so drastically.

What is it that lies ahead of us? Ruin and misfortune? Mayhaps it was foolish for me to have left knowing that Ivalice is still in dire need of aid. For too long the deeds of yesteryear has plagued these lands and the Empire's Debt has grown tenfold. Nabradia has yet found solace after years of abandonment, and even Dalmasca has yet to reclaim its former majestic glory.

Why is this? Why has nothing been done to ensure that tomorrow's history will not be marred?

[The message continues for a few more verses before suddenly coming to an abrupt end.

It's almost as if the text is starting to fade...]

mylittlebirds

[While at times the grimoires are maddening in their lack of information, this is not one such time. In every single copy, regardless of the bearer, a message scrolls itself across their pages.]

On this day, the 13th of Skyfrost, the Royal Empress of Rozarria succumbed to a poisoning death. Her beloved husband the Emperor, and their Heir Apparent, followed her into death an hour later.

Martial Law has been declared in the Rozarrian Empire.

[Formal announcements through proper diplomatic channels begin to arrive much later in the day. Additionally, the borders which were locked up tight previously are now being even more aggressively defended, despite all indications that the poisoning was an inside job.]

blessedsaint

[Sometimes the grimoires can be maddening in what they leave out as much as they tell. For the nosy or curious, an entry may scroll across the pages of select grimoires.]

On this day, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca sought spiritual guidance from Saint Ajora Glabados.

draklorgenius

[ As for those who happened upon this page in the dawning hours of the Twenty-Four of Blackfrost; a simple message is written in the blackest of inks. Shadowing the luminosity of the waking sun, it states in plain but elegant text--]

Dr. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, was upon this day, brought back to life by the High Seraph.

[ Nothing more is stated other than that regarding the good doctor. ]

bhujerban

[The Marquis has had a trying few weeks as of late. The reports out of Dalmasca are truly frightening, the loss of life so unneeded. Who would do such a thing, to ruin such a joyous occasion? The heinous deed should not go unpunished.

The deed, however, must be put aside for Bhujerba's own troubles. He has a strike on his hands, and those who should be paying the miners for their long, toiling work are not doing so. The product is not being paid for, and therefore, the miners cannot be paid. He had staved off a strike for as long as he could, but even the great Marquis can only do so much.

He has this day, taken to the grimoire to write out a request. A plea, as it were, to any who might see it.]

People of Ivalice,

I have but a small request for any who see this.

Many know of the recent strikes going on in Bhujerba. Our workers are going unpaid due to delinquent payments, and while I urge those who are delinquent to make haste and settle their debts as quickly as possible, we cannot stop production.

I offer this: any who are able-bodied are welcome to come work. It will be without wages for a time until debts are settled, but when they are, any who have worked during the strike will receive double the normal wage. Work hard, and you will be rewarded. You have my word.

Mqs. Halim Ondore IV

concordancenpcs

[Lezaford's cottage in the Aldanna Range is exactly what one would expect of a centuries-old Archmage. If they were aware of his age or magical capabilities. Most don't and he likes it that way. Everywhere one looks in this simple dwelling, there are books. Books upon books. And more books. If anything seems oddly displaced, it's the suit of Judge's armor set off in one corner. Or maybe the Grimoire on his reading table.

He's expecting a guest, maybe two, sometime soon anyway. The number of guests about to cram into his small home is going to be a surprise. Once he pulls himself out of the book he's engaged in reading.]

((ooc: Due to the number of folks showing up, let's go with party-style tagging instead of a set order.))

concordancenpcs

To say that Queen Ashelia has spared no expense for this fete would be the understatement of the year. The palace grounds and gardens have been thrown open to any who would come to mark the anniversary of Dalmasca's restoration and the end of the war. A heightened guard is present to ensure that peace and order are maintained at all times, though they are kindly not obtrusive enough to make one feel ill at ease. It was the queen's wish above all else that her people be granted a brief reprieve from the pressures of life. A small happiness.

The entertainment alone must have cost a queen's ransom. There are dancers and musicians scattered throughout the crowds. A company of sword jugglers in the east garden. A fire eating Bangaa to the west. A lively group of acrobats flip and spin through the crowds, inducing oohs and ahhs as they go. The height of the evening is marked with a remarkable 30-minute fireworks display set to music by the court's musicians.

And the food! The queen has made arrangements for nearly all of the city's merchants to have a small booth to provide tasty delights for the party. Of course, none of the edibles are free, but they have all been paid amply enough that their base costs have been covered, so their charges for the nibbles are minimal. Most are offering finger foods and street snacks, in addition to the ample piles of nuts, fruits and tiny handheld loaves of bread. Pastries and petit fours abound in more than one corner, and naturally the enticing smell of spicy kabobs permeates the open air. The wine flows freely, at least until supplies have run out, though more than one person catches on quickly that Tomaj has watered it down. At least his ales are hearty enough to quench a parched throat. Cinnamon and mint teas are being offered to anyone who has drank their fill of more intoxicating liquids.

***

The internal party is far more subdued and dignified that the outside celebration. Only those with specific invitations are being allowed inside, and small wonder. Among the guests are the royal family of Rozarria, some of that nation's highest ranking generals, the young Emperor Larsa Solidor, a contingent of elite nobles from Archades, the Marquis Halim Ondore IV and his cortege. Then there are those who helped the queen reclaim her throne. She has insisted on their inclusion for their aid in the restoration of Dalmasca. This isn't as much a fete within, as it is a dangerous dance of political plays. There are smiles and well-wishes, but everyone present understands this is less about being friends and more keeping tabs on ones neighbors.

The entertainment present is like that outside, though in smaller in number and performers. Music is provided by the queen's own court musicians and plays all through the evening. While the entertainment has been scaled down for interior purposes, the banquet is anything but. The royal kitchens have been at work for days in advance preparing the most astounding and delectable creations they could: roasted poultry, rack of lamb, a whole suckling pig, little cakes shaped like birds and flowers, fresh fruits and nuts artfully displayed, wyrdhare pies shaped like rabbits, starfruit surprises in star shapes, tiny brioche filled with buttered wild mushrooms, toasted breads smothered in caramelized wild onions and melted nanna milk cheese. Truly a feast for the senses and not merely the mouth alone. The finest of the Dalmascan wines have been brought up from the cellar, a few bottles of Bhujerban Madhu as well. (Though the winemaster is keeping close eye on who has had how much of that.) If there is anything at all missing, it is the absence of drinking water, though who would choose something so basic when so much better is available?

((ooc: Feel free to use action or prose tags, as per your preference.))

cruentatafoedus

That tricky bunny keeps eluding me! Someone catch it and get that Stardust off its tail. Actually, bring me the whole tail. I need both for my potions. No, bring me the whole carcass. The meat will make a fine dinner.

[One path, then three - all are dead ends. Indeed, he did employ his skill, a bit of magick, hop an airship after learning of the Hunt from a strange little fellow to, of course, meander around as though the sticky, steamy jungle had wormed its way into his head.]

[Just go back and forth, the Moogles in the area have explained to him, though the game is rare, something about the little creature has a particular fondness for jumping out and trying to surprise people in the section of map his grimoire provides called The Sun-Dappled Path. They also try to explain that sometimes relentlessly killing a Wyrdhare helps, and he's already killed two of them with no luck (there's also some strange guilt killing the little creatures after they so merrily dropped a chipped hi-potion on his head, skittering away when he jumped at suddenly becoming wet, albeit feeling better).]

[He doesn't admit he's spent a bit more of his time noting the path to the Necrohol of Nabudis, that in some part he is here because...it is there, and he has spent time watching the lumbering beasts, the things that used to be people clambering from the earth thanks to his actions. Surely his brother needs to retain Nabradia, but at times, when he narrowly avoids a bomb thanks to his skills being primarily physically based (and one has indeed already blown up in his face), he thinks it should be left alone.]

[Walking and thinking seems to be about the only thing he can do until the troublemaker appears, and think he does.]

[Whichever god invented the Malboro, by the way, should truly be punished. The smell is amazing.]

the_cat

[ It's a familiar itch that needs scratching or so Adelle thinks as she shifts from the back of her seat to the edge of it so as to better observe the aerodome workers running to and fro on the ground from the cabin window. From Rabanastre to Fluorgis and Fluorgis to Moorabella is a long time to sit idle. Well not idle per se as her mind has been rather active, but her feet are itching to scale the solid ground outside now that she's arrived at her intended destination. She's got a lot of ground to cover figuratively, too, what with clan matters, which includes certain missing persons, and this grimoire business afoot. Lezaford's due for a visit concerning the aforementionedand she's expecting Penelo sooner than later on account of their missing links. Given this, she really doesn't have time to sit idle, now does she?

As the announcement that traditionally precedes opening doors sounds, she's quick to hop out of her seat in her private cabin and stretch. Settling onto the balls of her feet again, she moves to find her bags, exit the cabin, and then the airship in its entirety. Once inside the aerodome, she disappears into the crowd, weaving through it expertly until she's outside in the capital of Magick proper and shivering just slightly despite her warm apparel for the fresh coat of snow that snugly hugs neatly rowed houses and lanes. ]

That's Moorabella for you!

[ With people coming and going despite the temperature, that is. The sages and other citizens who call the city home are visible amidst the hunters and adventurers. It's a busy day for Moorabella, but that suits Adelle just fine. She's a busy lady herself and stepping with purpose into the snowladen streets, bags checked and rechecked as her boots crunch snow beneath her feet.

First, she'll hit the pub to meet up with the clan and see if they've found any new leads through rumors or otherwise. It's time she bring them up to speed again with everything that's going on. They need to discuss their plans for Blackfrost, too. She'd like to keep Moorabella in case Cid shows for that ale, but it's something that merits discussing with all the other points in consideration. Then, she's got a letter to send ahead of herself to Lezaford. She should be heading to see him in the next couple of days. Perhaps Penelo would want to join her? She's hoping he can shed some light on this grimoire stuff.

Blowing a soft puff of white into the air, the hunter pauses and turns yellow eyes up to the sky for the soft flurries beginning to cascade down from the sky. Shifting her bags to one hand, she lifts the other to catch a flurry, bare fingers curling around it protectively for a sudden gust of wind from the east. ]

Zedlei, is it? Well, maybe later.

[ And with that, her fingers close around the still melting remnants of the snowflake and she strikes out again. That odd urge for the near beckoning wind is just going to have to wait until she's managed certain responsibilities. Still, it's not something she'll soon forget as such feelings are better heeded.

After all, one never knows what sort of prize one might find for the help. ]

cruentatafoedus

[It is late into the evening, this day numbered the 18th of Plumfrost, and yet for those whose work will never end, perhaps the letter comes as no surprise; one letter in a string of hundreds, filtered through many hands, left to be posted at a crystal of no consequence. The contents, however, are as follows, and, due to the nature of the recipient, have been checked - then double checked, then - the hand is perhaps unfamiliar to its reader at first, small, cursive, tilted ever so gently with practiced grace even though the paper in which it is written upon does not warrant such strokes -]

Most Esteemed Judge Magister,

Allow me to submit my congratulations upon garnering the happy news that, indeed, you are yet alive, and time, one presumes, has been kind to you these three years past wherein my honorable brother has been blossoming in your charge.
You shall be no doubt shocked, perhaps inclined to fume and demand to know the truth of this letter and I, alas, cannot give you but my word as Solidor that you serve with such dedication that it is truth unfettered, enchained as we both are to matters greater than ourselves.
I confess to you now I feel naught but loss and confusion as to what has brought me forth and instead look to you to fulfill your duty as Judge Magister of the Empire: Grimoires, Rifts, Ajora, and Holy Seraph unbound from her prison.
You have pushed forth for answers, of that I have no doubt, and I ask that you falter not in pursuing these ends as more than the lives of one rest upon the result. What has deigned to raise me has no nobility in its heart, seeking but a tool with which to better break us all from infant peace.
Do what you will with my words, Your Honor, for we are both men with brothers.

V. C. S.

blessedsaint

[Despite the deluge being present south of Rabanastre, the skies over the city are clear and full of sunshine. It's the perfect day for an impromptu gathering, one such as the one massing outside the cathedral. The sun is nearing its zenith in the sky, but the crowds are ignoring the heat, for a chance to listen to the priest on the cathedral steps.

Ajora is unlike the other Kiltia priests. Rather than clothe himself in ornate and ostentatious robes with cloth-of-gold and jewels enough to feed a small city, he and his acolytes merely wear plain cloaks of simple cotton cloth. They appear, by all appearances, to be simple and humble, more concerned with the people and their needs than extensive and costly show of rank.

He is delivering a most stirring sermon about the goodness and light of Faram. The Father of Light alone is worthy of worship and his Paradise is nigh for all. It is a radical theology to many, but there is such an air of goodness about the priest, that is is hard to deny his doctrine. There is a promise of hope, of salvation from suffering and grief, which has e'er been the close companion of the Dalmascans since the Imperial Occupation. It is the tantalizing promise of relief, the promise of hope for the future that compels them to listen and believe.

After he is done speaking, he spends the next several hours blessing children, soothing and comforting the hurting, easing the discomfort of the downtrodden. He and his disciples distribute alms to the poor who come with open hands. If he grows weary, there is no sign of it, as a kind smile and a warm welcome is extended to anyone who approaches.]

resplendance

[If there's a sight that's been missing from Rabanastre for a long time, its that of Penelo scurrying about running errands and chores. When she was younger, her sunny head flitting around taking care of tiny tasks for Migelo was a common occurrence. Once again, she's got much to accomplish and she can be seen all about the city, though this time her matters are more personal and less shopkeeping.

There's the matter of catching up with local friends, including Mjrn. She'd dropped her Viera friend a note when she came back, but hasn't had the time to stop in and say hello until today. There's the necessity of hitting up Tomaj at the Sandsea for information and huffing at him when he tries to charge for it. Cid is missing. Vaan is missing. Those are serious enough to warrant finding out anything she can. There's the matter of people with grimoires not from Ivalice at all too. One of which is hauled up injured with Aion to keep tabs on him. She still needs to work out a more permanent solution of how and where to house a growing dragon too. It's almost too much to keep track of at once, but she must. It's necessary. And busy keeps her from fretting too much. Mostly.

She can be found all over the city at different points in the day. One stop at Clan Centurio to say hi and catch up. Shopping in the bazaar for supplies before she has to leave to investigate Cid and Vaan's whereabouts. Another stop in the Sandsea, firmly handling Tomaj and his gil grasping. Not to mention stopping in shops, a visit to Migelo, as well as one to Old Dalan.]

( Letter to Ashe )

( Letter to Larsa and Basch )

cruentatafoedus

[For some of you on this early morn of the 17th of Plumfrost, or even later, should you bother to check your little black book of secrets, there is a single line, noninvasive, calm, mechanical, perhaps off in a corner, or upon a new page - ]

Vayne Carudas Solidor was, upon this day, brought back to life by the High Seraph.

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Concordance Grimoires

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Concordance Grimoires

Entries tagged with vayne carudas solidor

[A Toad Hunt | OTA] +[Balfonheim Reunion]

( grimoire entry | 20th Skyfrost )

[GRIMOIRE ENTRY | WRIT IN INK]

[grimoire entry]

Tomorrow's History

[Grimoire Entry]

[Grimoire Entry]

[ As Written in Blood & Ink | Grimoire]

[ A small plea for help ]

Meeting the Archmage

A Small Happiness: The Fete

[Action/Hunt in the Salikawood | OTA]

[ACTION | Moorabella | OTA] Backdated to the 22nd

[Letter for a Magister]

[Action | Rabanastre Cathedral | OTA]

[Action in Rabanastre | Backdated to the 16th] [Letters on the 17th]

[Ink |Grimoire addition]

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March 2015

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