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OOC: Scepter of Cynric
“Grandpa… Grandpa…”
“Grandpa… Grandpa…”
“Hahahaha… Hererinc and Freya… Come here and sit beside your old grandpa…”
The twins, with jet black hair flying and sparkle in their deep blue eyes, ran across the marble floor to where a large window was allowing the sun to warm the palace. There was still a blanket of snow on the ground. The sun not only warmed the cold stones, but also in the heart of King Geraint. Never in his deepest dreams could he had imagined that he would be holding his grandchildren on his lap. Not even did he imagine that snowy eld would be allowed to creep into his hair and beard. Never did he imagine that his own daughter would be standing, smiling at her aged father, before him, full of vibrant health and love. A dream that he had hoped that he would bring to his eternal slumber.
“Tell us a story, grandpa…”
“Yeah! Story… Story… Story…”
“Alright. Alright. But only a short one before your bath and dinner…” Groans could be heard slightly as the word “Bath” was used in the same sentence as dinner.
Sighing with a smile, the dark brown eyes look out the window, pass the boughs of leafless elms and oaks, pass the scarred battlements, pass the sleeping fields, to the snow-capped mountains, so clear and majestic on this day. Pass them to the sparkling, jeweled river to where his story began…
“Once upon a time, not so long ago that the slow unyielding passage of time had not been able to full erase the memory from the hearts of men, that my story begins. The long-lived and wise race of the Elves have retreated back into their deep forests, their cities, protected and hidden by nature. The Dwarves are mining ever deeper into the earth, the rock and metal chipping away easily from their implements. The Orcs too are but a memory, so long that no living man had ever seen one. Thus, the Elves and Dwarves, Goblins and Orcs are relegated to bedtime stories, myths and dark legends. Ghost stories…”
“Of all the races on this World, only the younger races, like men, are ever present in the memories of the earth, fire, water and wood. The God Deman and His brother, Attor, the twins of Good and Evil, were long gone from the minds of men. For men, short-lived and eminently greedy of wealth and power, had forgotten the old Gods. The old ways. Even the monument of the Dance of Giants, Estonahenj, laid covered with weeds and goats roamed at will around it’s sacred base. It was a time of transition. The time of the Ancient Gods and Elder Races were at its twilight, while the bright shining age of men had only began to see the light. Men occupied every part of the World, except for the places of those claimed by the Elder Races. Even those places are so inaccessible that men would not even go there.”
“It was a dark time, and a bright one as well. There were men, and then there were men. Just like in ancient legends, the Elves and the Orcs. The Dwarves and Goblins. Men, hunger not for food, but power and wealth. Men who hunger for the spiritual and intangible. Men who hunger for the blood of their brothers and neighbors.”
“Men like Prince Ćthelfrith. Men like the dark wizard Brogan. And men who oppose them, Ćthelwulf. This was still a time of transition, when Men, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Goblins, Gods and Spirits still contend for the supremacy of earth. The Scepter of Cynric was one such object, it’s mysteries far beyond the understanding of mortals and immortals alike. It origins so misted in the dawn of time that no records ever existed or could do justice. For the Scepter is a symbol. A symbol of kingship and dominion. Dominion of all things on this world. Dominion for good or evil…”
OOC: This is a casting call for the Quest of Cynric, and of Ćthelwulf. Please feel free to post your characters here, and I’ll start up the main story thread in a few days.
Name : Ćthelwulf
Age : 25
Eyes : Brown
Hair : Brown
Height : 2.0m
Weight : 100 kg
Weapons : Oaken Staff, and sword
History : Ćthelwulf was born under mysterious circumstances. He was spirited away, and raised by a former Ranger, called Beadurinc and his wife, Megan. The Ranger, with his bag of pension from the King for his long years of service, opened up a riverside inn. The inn has it’s own forge, ran by another former Ranger, Bar, the “Boar”. The river barges, carrying, wheat and mead from the Northern Provinces, docked that this riverside inn, to rest, and transship onto horse-drawn carriages to the rest of the kingdom.
So Ćthelwulf grew up in a relatively safe environment, trained and protected by his Ranger Father and “Uncle Bar”. Relatively safe in terms of interference from the King Eadbert or Brogan or their men. Not safe however from the frequent bar brawls and fisticuffs that were the norm of any riverside inn, especially with the gruff teamsters and recalcitrant barge sailors. Ćthelwulf had to learn how to make furniture as much as he learned how to use the staff and his fists. In fact, he can make a bench or a table as fast as any carpenter alive. Such a trade was useful, when the inn furniture needed constant replacements or repairs.
The back of the inn also housed a mead brewery, and this inn became famous for its wonderful brewery, the honey coming from the various man-made bee hives that Bead and Bar built. It was in the year of his 25th season, that Ćthelwulf will embark on the journey to discover his past, present and future.
So please, join in the high adventure, romance and dangers of the Quest for the Scepter of Cynric.
“ Wilcuman la, mine hlafordas. Ic grete ţe... "
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