get_off_my_lawn: (howl)
Taryn Shadow-Walker ([personal profile] get_off_my_lawn) wrote in [community profile] imperial_stage2012-07-09 10:40 am

The Awen Moot

Who: Taryn Shadow-Walker, any members of Awen and visiting fellows
What: The Moot aka Awen Court
When: Backdated to the night of June 27th because I suck (half moon)
Where: Alilany
Warnings: there will be some combat and bloodshed

Notes: Here is a reference for how Moots are done in the Werewolf: the Apocalypse canon that Taryn is based off of. There are some differences, like being held on the half moon instead of full moon and the structure is a lot looser. Anyone that ICly looked into what a 'moot' is will find some very old tales mentioning wolf 'beastmen' and how they would gather every month to reaffirm themselves. And that's about it.

Alilany was always a rustic, peaceful city in Lerrian, full of beastmen, fae and some humans. Very tribal with little technology, more magic, and sense of home to any that were able to relax in the forests that surrounded the capital of Awen. Even the Warders, the special beastmen guard the capital were rarely seen, blending into the environment easily. But with the Moot, it was different.

Now, the spiritual center that Alilany was became more pronounced as the shamans went about cleansing the city and preparing it, as if the receive Gaia herself. Who knew, perhaps Mother Earth would grace the Moot with her presence. Earthy music filtered through the air - drums and pipes, but mostly drums - and the large clearing in the center of the city was ready for those who wished to participate in the Moot - be it spiritual communication, airing of grievances, petitions to the Ar-Righ, or simply the Revel at the end. The Warders were far more visible, meeting and greeting any foreign dignitaries that chose to attend. Weaponry was allowed at the Moot, for only a fool would draw their weapon at a Moot outside of formal challenge, so there was no need to ban them. Awen was, after all, a strong nation if small.

There was no throne in the clearing for the Ar-Righ to sit upon. No, that wasn't how Taryn or her lineage did things. Instead, there was a large boulder containing some of the gemstones from Arird to the southern end of the clearing, big enough to serve a similar function as a throne, with torches on either side and trophies from the battle with the Raiders on display. In the very center of the clearing was an impressive bonfire, easily controlled by the shamans nearby. Musicians to one side, others were seated on the ground or standing around and there was no specific place for the foreign dignitaries. If they were expecting special seating, they wouldn't find any favor, though if they moved to position themselves close to the rock, Taryn would have room made for them.

With a loud howl that carried and echoed off the trees, Taryn called the Moot with the ceremonial tribute. Beastmen of all sorts raised their voices to join her, howling, growling, warbling and even some of the humans mimicked the wolf's howl. The drums and other music faded so all that could be heard was the beautiful chorus of the people of Awen calling out to the land. After a few seconds, the Opening Howl ended and there was silence save for the crackling of the bonfire and any quiet muttering from those visiting that didn't know what to expect.
greyerrant: (The knight of shadows)

Inner Sky

[personal profile] greyerrant 2012-07-09 06:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Garviel watched the display, shifting a few times, obviously ill at ease amongst the very wild nature of the Moot. His own struggle with his Beast has taken up enough of his time, and appearing here as anything other than a raging Berserker took an act of control. He stands, in a gray cloak over white demi-armor, something akin to the lorica segmentata of the few men from Rome he has brought with him, warriors, veterans of the fights against Avshar and the Raiders. They are not in crusade company colors our bearing their iconography at the monent, this is clearly a Roman affair.

As the sounds of the earth, wind, and the other effects of the moot play over him, he is reminded forcibly of the Vlka Fenryka his long-lost brothers, the sons of Russ. Their Gothi would put on similar shows, sometimes dramatic and powerful, sometimes to no effect that he could discern.

He keeps his mood as phlegmatic as he can, and his stony face shows little, as all around him, the others turn a little more energised.
nibelungvalesti: Credit: <user name=virginwarrior"> (innocent human girl)

[personal profile] nibelungvalesti 2012-07-09 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[There is a watcher amongst them -- a small human woman, dressed demurely, her only standout feature the plait of silver-purple hair that reaches the ground.]

[She is not used to those with keener senses or greater perceptions than normal, and that is why on the spiritual plane she is a beacon of divine energy.]
nibelungvalesti: (hands clasped)

...not sure why I swapped to action tags, what was I thinking?

[personal profile] nibelungvalesti 2012-07-09 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[She looks up -- the woman is TINY, really -- without any hint of worry or fear, then inclines her head slightly in respect.]

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greyerrant: (Squinty)

[personal profile] greyerrant 2012-07-09 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
The watcher is watched by the dictator of Rome. A being who never died... and has surpassed mortality by means of a deal with a magical force known as the Holy Grail. A hero spun out at the time that was needed, to fight for a humanity he barely understands anymore. To him, since he is possessed of no divine sense, and, indeed, is rather blunt in matters sorcerous and spiritual, she seems strangely out of place because she appears human, and delicate. He wonders what she is doing here, and moreoever, if she needs protection. That is his purpose, after all. To stand as an armored bulwark for all of humanity.

nibelungvalesti: (angry look)

[personal profile] nibelungvalesti 2012-07-09 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Make no mistake, Tyrant of Rome; the goddess was aware of you. If the moot were a proper place to speak of such things, she would have words with you on the instant.

But that was not proper. Uncertain that she should even be visible at all, she offered no sign of her thoughts save for a look. The flash in her eyes ought to say volumes about her need for protections.

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path_to_the_world: (Pretty with pink - Kuranosuke PB)

[personal profile] path_to_the_world 2012-07-09 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Tyrnen had tried to dress accordingly, but he had not been sure what was appropriate so instead defaulted to what he had grown up with, fine clothes with ribbons and lace, elaborate embroidery, gloves and jewels. It was one of the few 'court' outfits he had taken with him and he seemed a bit out of place in them, especially since he was sitting on the ground.

Trynen had his back to a tree, the Book of Words, otherwise known as Ira. He was writing in her, all that he observed of the ceremony. He was a scholar at heart after all and this was a rare opportunity.
forceofnature: (Solemn)

[personal profile] forceofnature 2012-07-10 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
[The first bomb had been dropped. The earth had at last displayed the true extent of its fury, long pent up for the countless crimes it had borne in silence for so many years. Gaia had spoken. She had demanded change. Not just for her own sake, but for the sake of every single form of life that claimed Dagaria as its home, plants, animals, beastmen, and yes, even humans alike. The will of the earth had never made itself known more plainly than during this time, not since the beginning of creation itself when the gods had first breathed life into their children.

Of course, perhaps there might have been a more diplomatic means of announcing it.

Regardless, the deed was done. And as Viridi had promised to her most faithful child, she would not stop until the humans learned to revere nature like they ought. In times long past, all of creation had lived in harmony, coexisting, no one species dominating over the others. Harmony was not peace, but even so, the delicate balance of nature had been flawlessly observed. And she had been pleased.

The sole desire of the goddess was to see things restored. To the way they were. The way they were meant to be. And on this sacred day, under the light of the half-moon, with the respect and reverence for the earth hanging nearly tangibly in the air...

The trees shiver as a cool wind makes its way through the woods. The breeze is refreshing. It carries with it a certain scent... Of blossoms in spring, of rich earth and morning dew, of rain newly fallen and wood freshly cut.

The goddess of nature is present. And with the destruction of the raiders and the honor being paid unto her... she is satisfied.]
greyerrant: (Squinty)

Cracking of the Bone

[personal profile] greyerrant 2012-07-09 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Loken will wait for all the local challenges and requests to be dealt with. A leader must see to the home first. Once foreigners are addressed, he'll wait his turn until Taryn signals him to approach, or there is a silence indicating she has time to speak with him. Once again, there is a sense of strained tension about him, less than fully comfortable in the wild abandon of the Moot, which plays on his nerves and the for the moment chained dynamo of rage and dutiful destruction which powers him of late. When the time comes, he'll speak, in a deep voice, one that carries without shouting,

"I have come as Dictator of Rome, the named Successor of the Rose Empress to request a formal Alliance with Awen." His cloak shifts a bit, exposing more of the white demi-armor, and the massive warrior beneath. Few here outside of Taryn outmass or tower over him, but he seems to be trying to keep his threatening presence on a tight leash. Garviel is consciously biting any arrogance or sting out of his words with effort. His face is pale in the half-moon, and a keen observer might catch the presence of a few sigils of the New Moon on him, a nod to his ancient role in the Mournival of Horus Lupercal.

greyerrant: (Default)

[personal profile] greyerrant 2012-07-09 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"Several reasons: My Empress, Nero Augustus Germanicus, had good relations with the Beastmen previously. I would not wish to turn my back on her will in this matter. The second is shared blood. I remember well that your beastmen stood with us when I brought what blades of Rome I could against Avshar, and I sent warriors and suboordinated myself to your command during the recent rout of the Raiders. We are different in how we fight, certainly, but I would prefer to fight by the side of Awen's brave warriors against the storms that are breaking in Dagaria, rather than stand by and let them fight alone, or worse, to be pitted against them." Garviel pauses a moment, his tone fairly even, though there is an undertone of tension in it. When he speaks of being pitted against Awen, even in theory, there is a sense of great regret in his voice, the very idea almost anathema to him. After the pause, he continues,

"There are also mercantile considerations as well. An open and friendly border benefits us both with safe trade routes, and there are many that would welcome what Awen can provide in Rome, and it is my hope that perhaps the citizens of Awen would welcome Roman goods as well."

Another brief pause.

"Cultural exchange would also be a welcome byproduct of such an alliance. Rome has much to learn from you all about.... nature and the world that surrounds them, as concerned as we are with building cities and researching the crystals. And in return, the university of Onylith offers much in way of knowledge about the crystals, and other matters of research various and sundry. It is the center of a research project to defeat the plague that has beset us all, even now, and we would welcome any who wished to contribute from your lands. We'll share the results of what we find regardless of the decision made today, for such research is done for the good of all, but this is simply an example of the sort of valuable information and culture we are willing to share with you."

He finishes with this, "The last reason is personal. I believe I can trust you. We rarely agree, and often anger each other, but in the end, you are a being of blood and honor. I can deal with such." Far more easily than he can deal with Aznable, Mitsunari, or the damnable Fuhrer, he thinks to himself.

At the end of this, Garviel goes very silent. Outside of inspiring his men in battle, or making a plea to the noble heart of a fellow warrior, he rarely likes to speak this much. Better to contemplate for a long time, and do what must be done when the time comes. The moment clearly weighs on him, his light skin growing a bit paler as he talks, though his grey eyes show little, either in warmth, or anger.
Edited 2012-07-09 19:28 (UTC)

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not_the_ship: (A bit more regal)

[personal profile] not_the_ship 2012-07-09 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Even reclining in a compact leonine posture as he was, Temeraire's head still towered well above the gathered crowd. Despite the breastplate on his chest newly polished of its battlescars and decorated with his Destiny Stone, his boyish curiosity was quick to reveal itself. Glancing about, at this and that and some other thing, flicking his tongue at these new smells and prickling his ruff at the strange sounds. He even wiggled his talons slightly, lifting them away for a surprised moment from an earth suddenly alive.

Some of the braver beastmen had clambered onto the dragon's back in lieu of finding alternate seating. First the hawk beastmen like some manner of roosting bird, then, one at a time, a varied bundle of beastmen and a precious few humans, some dragged aboard by their comrades. Temeraire, used to crewmen scrabbling about on his back, didn't seem to mind in the slightest; only flicking his ruff once.

He did have a reason for being here, besides mere curiosity. When a silence had fallen between the voices, Temeraire's own rumbled out to fill the void.

"Ar-Righ," and here he paused, briefly. Was this the place to ask...? "Could you teach me, to roar as you did during the battle?"
not_the_ship: (All these icons look left)

can I have my short term memory back brain that would be nice

[personal profile] not_the_ship 2012-07-14 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"Ah, well..." the dragon rumbled, and then trailed off.

He hadn't given much thought to what being a dragon meant, besides most of the world being quite wrong. He was most certainly not a mere beast, and only savage when he wished, or there was fighting to be had, or...well.

...and he did so like those shiny gems that Bradley had given him, even though they were safely ensconced in a bank now, he dreaded to be parted from them.

"I can offer my service once more; not forever, should Kushana return, I must go to her side at once, but in the interim..."

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revanisms: (You.  Kitchen.  Now.)

[personal profile] revanisms 2012-07-09 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
"I have a challenge I wish to issue."

Revan steps forward while saying this, his cloak wrapped around him as he drew himself to a halt. He had waited until last for a reason. After a moment, he bent slightly at the waist in deference to Taryn.

"Shall I?"
revanisms: (SO SAY WE ALL)

[personal profile] revanisms 2012-07-09 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Revan wasn't one prone to speeches but he was a very good public speaker. His charisma had always taken him places that he wouldn't normally have been able to go to.

With one more sweep of his cloak, he turned to face everyone.

"People. Since the beginning of time, one rule has always held true. The victor is always right. He sets the rules, he makes the history. That is the purpose of these challenges.

And today, I challenge one who stands in the audience now. The current ruler of Rome! I decree that this man is too addled and weak to even be fit to lead a company of soldiers, much less a nation. While the outcome of this challenge will have no effect on his position, it will give me the satisfaction of knowing the correct answer.

If that ruler disagrees with my statement, then he is free to accept my challenge."

He had waited until last for the very reason of garnering more attention. His reasons for this challenge were obvious. If Revan won, he just might cause trouble enough in Rome to make it ripe for the picking. Whether or not he actually believed what he said was irrelevant in the larger picture.

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imperial_mods: (Dakren Khan)

[personal profile] imperial_mods 2012-07-10 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
The creak of armor echoes throughout the forest as a man clad in armor strides confidently into view, the shriek of an Elder Red Wyrm echoing overhead.

"I am Dakren Khan of the Dragons of the Sands!" he announces in a booming, somewhat hollow voice. "I would treat with she who claims rulership of this tribe."

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path_to_the_world: (Hm? - Kuranosuke PB)

[personal profile] path_to_the_world 2012-07-09 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)
This was the realm of Ira, Tyrnen had no need to tell of stories to a group, in fact it made him just a little uncomfortable at the thought. Books where for retelling stories, reading and writing was the best way to share, no way to forget or mis-remember. But he did enjoy hearing stories told by others, and to record them, all within the Book of Words. However, Ira herself loved to tell tales, and for the first time in public reveled she had a spiritual form other than a voice attached to a book.

She appeared to be a young woman with long shimmering red hair and bright green eyes. Her features were distinctively fae and long pointed ears peaked out from her hair. Though any relation to the fae was up for debate, it could just as easily simply be a look she liked. Her form faded slightly in and out, never quite fully there, but enough to make her seem like an actual being of flesh and blood if you weren't paying much attention. She had a voice of bells and a captivating smile, her dress was simple and was something appropriate to the region.

"There are many stories I can tell, those of great kings and those of great sorcerers. Warriors, scholars, dragons and fae, I have known them all. But I will tell you of a story long lost, of the great Magus Archeron, this was a time long ago when the Fae were not so hard to find, when they had great cities within the forest of the like no man could even fathom. Their magic and technology was Superior to all, and Acheron was their brightest and most talented mage. He created many spells that few could reproduce, and was heralded across the land for his great knowledge and ability," she paused to look around her audience, slightly floating off the ground. Tyrnen himself tried to keep up with her words as he wrote them down.

"But, of course, things were not perfect in this time. There were those who were jealous and did not like the prosperity of Acheron's kingdom and did not like the fae. A war broke out and for the first time in a long time the fae were outmatched. Acheron's king asked for his aid. 'Please, you must do something or else our people and kingdom will fall'. And it seemed as if it would inevitably do so.

"However!" her eyes widened slightly in excitement and she made little fists. "Acheron had a plan, a great spell that would save them, but he was reluctant, as the devastation it would cause would be unimaginable. But he could not think of any other way, it was the death of his people or the annihilation of the enemy's vast army. It took him nine days to decide on whether his soul could bare such a burden, nine hours to set up the spell, and within nine minutes the entire enemy line was destroyed with a power never seen since. It was the first and last time such a devastating spell was used. Immediately after the great Acheron sealed his spell away so none could ever use it again and then seemed to vanish over night. Some say he traveled far and wide becoming a vagabond unable to cope with what he had to do, others say he tried to spread the word of peace, others say he secluded himself high in the mountains where he studied alone perfecting his magic to the point where he became a god.

"Of course there is only one truth to what happened, and only one person left in today's time who knows, but you won't hear the answer from me, at least not this night," she finished her story, that almost seemed more like a tease, with a smile. It didn't look like she was going to fade away any time soon though, she was ready to have fun and not be stuffed in a bag or written in all day. Let Tyrnen play scribe, she would enjoy the festivities.
canhazcookie: (This makes me look tall)

Wyrm Foe Candidate

[personal profile] canhazcookie 2012-07-09 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)