RP:Emi Meets the King

From HollowWiki

Fallen Star Inn



Emilia had spent long hours at the little patch of land that had been gifted to her by a mysterious man through the strange woman she’d recently befriended. Niddy, or Nidrun by her rightful name, was the only reason that Emi was even away from the place she called home now. “Oh, Niddy! Put me down.” The farm girl squawked at the mare who had the blonde over her back. It was then the duo reached the Inn and by all odds Niddy knocked Emi off her back only to send her with a nudge into the Inn. So by stumbling steps the freckled faced blonde made her entrance into the Inn. A few more stumbles before she caught her stepping. Standing facing the door she could hear the mare friend of her snickering on the other side. “Oh, fine! But no sugar cubes for you tonight.” The farm girl threatened the horse through the shut door easily earning eyes of some of the other patrons on her. A blush to those freckled cheeks as the farm girl turned around to look about the establishment. “Sorry.” She said with little wave of her hand before hurrying herself away from the door to order herself a drink before she did anything else stupid in one night.


Eboric steps into the inn a few minutes thereafter. The king recognizes Nidrun, and gives the old mare a gentle pat on his way past. Once inside, the werebear moves toward the bar to order a drink, grimacing slightly as he is recognized and hailed by the other patrons. He returns their greetings in kind, though, before asking Cuthwine for a horn of mead. The warlord certainly makes no attempt at secrecy; his arms gleam with golden rings, and resting on his hulking brow is a crown of ancient gold, etched with runes, symbols much like those that stain the skin of his neck, and decorate the black bracers on his wrists.


Grailan entered behind the enigmatic but powerful king in a mournful gait that silenced most greetings to the superior in favor of disconcerting stares toward the death knight. Pale strands of ghost-white hair danced around his features from beneath some ebony hood, which drew from that equally coal-hued platemail armor. His steps were not silent; they were echoing with the distinct 'click' of armored greaves as cold, dead, and infinitely sad eyes searched outward for any threat to the warlord.


Raidh’s mare is clearly heard from the inn’s exterior, a belly-deep and shrill-ended whinny splits the inn’s chatter into silent halves not long after the king and his undead guard enter. Raidh had stopped off at the yurt to check on her kismen and so lags a little behind the rest. Avaldi has opted to stay with his kinsmen for the time being. After the whinny comes a woman’s voice, a shout of greeting and then there’s much clatter of hooves in the street. Before long, Raidh pushes through the door, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her garb covered in brown horse-hair, her gaze sweeping around for the mare-sitter as she strides toward Eboric and Grailan. Blonde hair is common here in the west, but none shines like the farm-girl’s gold! “Emi!” exuberant, the Riddarnir girl cries and creates yet another reason for the patrons to whisper and gawp. No Riders are present, but that’s understandable, they’re back at the yurt listening to Avaldi’s tales of adventure across the sea.


Emilia had never met the King before, but by the entrance of the man with a golden crown on his head she could best assume that is the title that befits him as he came to order a drink for himself. His entrance mixed with the entrance of the fellow behind him stalled the farm girl from ordering her own drink. Though, it was neither that caught the attention of the curly haired blonde more than the noise of Niddy outside. Wide eyed the farm girl had never heard the mare make such noises, so by default she was on her feet to go investigate the mare she was sitting. Before she was able to get back to the door Raidh had made her entrance inside. A relieved look guessing she was the reason the noise of the horse that was easily heard within the Inn. Since her feet were already in motion she’d find herself moving to Raidh as she exclaimed her name. “Miss Raidh!” She’d exclaim in return as she, per normal friendly greeting, moved to hug the other woman.


Eboric , for his part, seems entirely comfortable with the dead warrior that follows him in, and pays the undead no more or less attention than he affords the living men in the room. Emilia is given a curious glance; by her face and build, it is clear she is not one of the ethnic Kuronii. Raidh seems to know her, though, so the warlord turns back to receive his drink, taking a long swallow of the sweet brew.


Grailan 's dead gaze of some infinite melancholy that augmented his oppressive aura of depression that seemed to exhude from his very figure sliced immediately to Raidh and Emilia as the latter and former entwined in a hug. The undead knight grasped the pommel of his blade with an ebony armored hand immediately upon the contact, but as he watched for another moment with the exchange of one another's names to the other, his grip laxed briefly. The otherworldly and damned sentinel leaned slightly toward Eboric, and his voice came forth for the king's ears, "The Queen is a more difficult one to guard than you, my Lord. It is as if she is loathe to be guarded.”


Raidh all but lifts Emilia clean off the floor in that hug before dropping the farmgirl back to her feet at arm’s length, hands on Emi’s shoulders, blue eyes fixed keenly on her friend. “How are you?” She has a dozen other questions, too, regarding Nidrun and the farm and that funny green stick and did Emi ever find out what that was, but these are kept bottled up while her head turns toward the King and his unliving companion. “Come,” she urges, her grip on Emi’s hand offering the other blonde little choice; she’s already moving toward the bar. “You must meet Eboric, I’ve told him all about you and the farm.” She hesitates as they reach the King and company, fortunately not in time to hear herself referred to as ‘the Queen’ (again!) and whispers aside, “The man with the King is dead. But the King likes him, and there’s no need to fear.” Lifting her face then to the men, she smiles brightly. “Husband. Grailan. I’d like to introduce Miss Emi, of the Hilltop Ranch. A good friend and farmer. Emi, this is Eboric. And that’s Sir Grailan the Grave, personal guard to the King.” The latter being, perhaps, a title bestowed in sheer waspishness at the undead’s insistence on using terms of royalty on her own behalf. Nevertheless, the Knight really does look very grave.


Emilia couldn’t help but let out a small little giggle as the other woman had lifted her right up from the floor before setting her down once again. “Fi…ne” Was her reply that came out all strange like as the rider took her by hand to meet the King and his undead body guard. Standing next to Raidh the blue gaze of the farm girl drifted between the two she was being introduced to. It was a slightly nervous look as she let her gaze for a moment study over the King. She’d heard Raidh’s tale of her to him and was completely afraid to fall short of those expectations set for her. A bandaged hand lifted to offer a shy wave to the two men, “Pleasure to meet you, Mister King Eboric and Sir Grailan the Grave.”


Eboric allows a small smile to cross his face at Grailan's words. "Yes, it would appear that both of my wives delight in eluding my guards. Most of them, anyway. They can never slip past the dead, though, and the dead are always watching." As Emilia is brought before him, he offers a nod of greeting. "Well met, Emi of the Hilltop Ranch. I have glimpsed your land, and it seems well cared for. Venturil has need of such farms. Raidh was wise in her choice, I see." He glances to Grailan again. "I have journeyed far, and there is much yet to do. Do your best to keep Raidh out of trouble, would you? I'm to meet her father soon, and I'd rather she be whole for that." He grins, and turns toward the door. "Emi, it was good to meet you at last. I will visit your farm soon."


Grailan 's response was not given because of the interjection of Raidh and Emilia, the former earning a brief expression of loathing due to her words before that face returned into the enthrallment of neverending sorrow. At the greeting of Emilia, the knight with dead eyes and ghost-white hair tilted his head forward in a nod of acknowledged hail and return. But Eboric's words brought the attention of the sentinel away, and to that he acquiesced his king's command with a simple, "It shall be done, my lord." Those eyes returned to Raidh, suspiciously if one could see past that eternal sorrow; he knew she was going to try to elude him or stir up some sort of trouble.


Raidh’s own face betrays a moment of pure chagrin at being given yet another guard, as if she needs them! Gosh, it’s not like she cannot use a sword to save herself. But the look is fleeting and soon she smiles again, pleased to be back in Venturil and in the company of friends. And even Grailan, whose grimness is only contrast to the shieldmaiden’s good mood. She speaks a few words of parting to Eboric, then, and once the King departs says to Emilia, “Might we visit your farm soon? I’m eager to see for myself how things are coming along.” She slides a look to the dead Knight, “I hope you don’t mind some extra company.” If Grailan is to guard her then, by Othinn’s beard, Raidh will make sure the task is not an idle one.


Emilia had not been as nervous as she was now before having met the King of the land who now wanted to go out of his way to visit her farm. She could feel her stomach turn at the thought. She was not good with authority. As he moved to walk away she mumbled, “Emi, it’s just Emi.” She wasn’t sure if he had heard her or not before he left. Then her attention was back to the undead guard man. Emi was curious by nature and he was very interesting as she’d never met one before, but she’d refrain from poking at him to investigate his undeadness. Turning her gaze toward the other woman she flashed a warm smile, “Things are growing at out-rageous rates. Keeps me busy to the point Niddy kidnapped me off to the Inn tonight to get away from the farm for a bit, but I am sure we can make way to the farm. Undead-man-Grailan can join but he can’t squish anything with those big feet of his.”


Grailan met that look with his own melancholy one, but perhaps there was a bit of exasperation within them, belied by his sorrow. "I must protect Lady Raidh until I have another task set to me." It's true; he's spent several nights posted outside of her chamber door, but anyone who knew Raidh might consider it was so she wouldn't sneak out and get herself into a lot of trouble. That and he was bound to obey Eboric's commands. Either way, he had to come along. Those eyes moved slightly to scrutinize the small farmgirl, but they were dead and full of sadness.


Raidh is about to open her mouth to remind Grailan that ‘it’s Raidh, just Raidh!’ but realizes this would be odd, considering the very next thing she wishes to speak, this to Emilia, “Sir Grailan. He is still a Knight, even is he is dead.” Something tells her this is not going to help her quest to make the Knight quit calling her ‘Majesty’ and ‘Lady’ and ‘Queen’ and all the other things she had not yet earned the right to be named, or didn’t want (Lady? That has to be some kind of undead barb!). “I’m so glad to hear things are still prospering for you, dear Emi. Shall we go then, before my horse turns herself inside-out on the inn-porch?” Indeed, Nidrun’s hooves are clattering on the timber, and a moment later a velvet-brown snout pushes at the door, poking through the gap.


Emilia turned back toward the undead man-knight. She stared at him for a moment before sticking that broken hand out to ever to lightly poke his chest, “I mean it, Sir Grailan. Squish anything and you will wish you were still dead dead.” The one thing Emi was surely serious about was the farm. Seems the little human had a bit of a backbone after all. Turning her gaze to the snout poking into the door Emi let out a small giggle, “She has missed you oh so much. And may have just a tiny addiction to having a sugar cube or three during the day. I am sorry. I couldn’t help it.” A nervous smile, but either way Emi was quick with her movements as she left the tavern to rejoin Niddy outside so that the group could travel up to her farm on the hilltop.


Grailan fell in line behind the two women with the telltale 'click' of armored greaves as he'd follow. Tirelessly, he'd follow, the undead having no feeling of fatigue, hunger, or thirst even if his armored may slow him considerably.


Raidh decides her horse is in far too frisky a mood to be ridden back to the farm (a state induced either by the excitement of her rider’s return, or a sugar high, or both, Raidh thinks) if they are all to keep company together, so she grasps a little bit of mane in one hand and tugs Nidrun into a walk beside her. The mare pulls herself free for a moment, however, just long enough to thrust her nose at Grailan and inhale a good, long sniff. The mare’s head recoils, she eyeballs the Knight with one suspicious, white-ringed eye! But then, to Raidh’s surprise, Nidrun does not behave as she might toward a perceived threat, but stretches her neck again to nose-blow a huff of warm breath into Grailan’s white hair. “Come on, silly,” Raidh urges her beloved mount, tugging her mane again so they may continue their path toward the farm. She looks aside to Emilia then, “What has happened to your hand?”


Emilia would not go on to tell Raidh about the other spoiling moments she’d shared with her mare. The farm girl was very different with her horses than Raidh was, but that all mounted to how the two were raised. Very differently for that matter. Now that she was no longer horse sitting she would let the other woman keep the mare in line as they walked along toward the farm. Every now and then the farm girl would glance at the knight. She was very much not used to be followed around by a guard even though the guard was not meant for her but the other woman. It was a wonder Raidh got anywhere. Grailan just sent shivers down the farm girl’s spine. Turning her gaze back to Raidh at the question, “Oh, I broke it. No need to worry about it. It is almost fully back to normal.” A warm smile to the woman. It was only one of many injuries that Emi had managed while Raidh was gone.


Grailan did not react in any way to the horse aside from simply staring it at as it scrutinized him with such a melancholy gaze. And he remained silent throughout the glances toward him, and the speech between the queen and the farmgirl.


Raidh is not letting Grailan get away with stoic silence! Oh no, the Grave is going to be included in any and all chatter! Whether he deigns to respond, or not. “Of course it’s a worry! Was there a fight? Did somebody try to harm you?” Gods only help them if this is the case, says her expression, as she turns to the ambulant corpse, “Your job will get more difficult, I fear, if so, Sir Grailan. For we must then go to battle. Emi is a dear friend to me.” One of a precious few friends she’d made so far out here in the Utlend, but she doesn’t add the thought.


Emilia shook her head when the woman seemed to jump to conclusions about how she’d managed to break her head. “Oh, I dropped a rock on it. So unless you and Sir Knighty are going to destroy my fountain in the garden for biting my hand then you have nothing to worry about. I really would enjoy keeping it in one piece. I worked very hard on it.” A look of hopeful plea that her friend wasn’t going to go about attacking the stones that made up the centerpiece of her garden. “Now, tell me. How was your trip?”


Grailan remained tirelessly 'clicking' those armored greaves behind the two women as the dead man's gait followed them toward the destination. But even the mournful man's gaze lifted as Raidh turned and spoke to the melancholy corpse to meet dead eyes with those of his lord's wife, "If you command it, I will obey, my Queen.' He responded in that sorrowful voice, briefly turning his dead gaze toward Emilia in a brief scrutiny again; so she was a dear friend of Raidh's?


Raidh flinches visibly, just in the corner of one eye, at the Knight’s use of that title, “Seems there’s no need for a fight then, Sir Grailan. Really, Emi, you should take better care of yourself. As for the trip, well, it was exciting and it was sad, as the King’s father was killed in a hunting accident. We have his body here, ready for the barrows.” It seems she doesn’t wish to dwell on that event, though. “Tell me how’s Lok and Sif? Has Sif foaled yet? Those, Grailan, are the heavy-horses I lent to Emi for the farm.” She peers at him over Nidrun’s glossy neck, “Do you.. Or did you, ride?” Asking the dead questions can be awkward, she thinks.


Emilia shook her head slowly at the sudden on coming of questions mixed with answers. “They are both doing fine. No, she hasn’t had her baby just yet. Doesn’t seem like it will be much longer though before the foal is born. Lok though seems to enjoy training bits. Flips with him are rather fun.” A simple smile before the trio plus Niddy turned to head up that steep hill that lead to the farm of the females. It had been empty lately with it being just her there. X hadn’t visited in a time nor had anybody else for that matter. “I am sorry for his loss.” A belated reply to the death of the King’s father.


Grailan continued to walk amongst them, only to pause his steps at Raidh's question. It was a brief stop, and quickly his gait resumed to catch up the pace that they had set. "I had a long time ago. Every knight had where I hail from." He thought for a moment, then with that voice of sorrow, he spoke, "I rejoice for him." Despite being eternally sad.

Raidh gives Grailan a look that is hard to parse, and nods. “He is among warriors.” She begins to say something to Emilia when a shout comes from the west, and a Rider approaches at a gallop. He halts, wheeling his mount as he speaks, “Raidh. Your brother wants you. He says to come, now.” The shieldmaiden’s blonde brows knit, and she turns to Emilia, “I’m so sorry. I must go. We can catch up later, I hope.” One lithe leap, and she’s on Nidrun, but before she dashes away says to Grailan, “Perhaps you ought to find yourself a suitable mount?” He’ll see half a grin, then she nudges her mare to a run and races away, the messenger and his own horse eating dust in her wake.


Emilia waves a friendly good-bye to the woman as she quickly mounted onto Niddy. A brother’s calling. Must be nice she thought to herself. With that she would wave to the undead man sure as he was to follow the one he was guarding. ‘See you around, Miss Raidh.” And with that she would make her way the rest of the way to her home alone.


Grailan immediately began to walk in the direction of the woman that was dashing away; he'd catch up, eventually, as he followed.