Post by Sir Caedric Moore on Aug 26, 2016 15:30:49 GMT -8
My Heroes Guild Master 1 entry and the sixth installment of my part of the Rise of the Wyrms collab. All caught up, now, and no more builds out of order 
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-The Dragon's Head-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Mikithdar, capital of Garheim...
The longboat creaked and groaned as it rocked gently on the waves lapping against the thick wooden pilings of the dock, blue-clad soldiers here and there tying her mooring ropes to the bollards and lowering gangplanks to the pier below. The Dragon's Blood, a wooden longboat built in traditional Garhim fashion and given to Caedric Moore by his wife's uncle, had proven more than sea-worthy, bearing the Commander of the Valeguard and his men from the shores of Black Loch north to Jharton Bay and down the mighty Havenhill River to Lake Mikithdar. Built on the vast deep lake, the capital of Garheim was much larger than many others cities in the north, dwarfing all of Orevale Hold, and the docks were packed with boats and ships of all sizes coming and going, their hulls laden with fish, furs, lumber, stone, and steel, along with spices and other commodities not native to Garheim.
Caedric watched his soldiers absentmindedly as they unloaded their cargo, men and women of Orevale alike with the sigil of the Valeguard emblazoned on their blue tunics: a silver owl and an onyx falcon, half of each meeting the other on a black and white field. Gulls cried overhead, floating lazily on the cool breeze as thick snowflakes fell slowly and steadily from a sky the color of burnished steel to land softly on the thin layer that already blanketed the roofs of the houses lining the waters' edge.
"The Jarl, my lord," a voice sounded to his left, snapping him from his reverie. Turning, he noticed his shieldman Sir Layton Connors, grey mustache blowing in the salt breeze, and followed his gaze to the house closest to them as the Jarl of Garheim approached, flanked by two soldiers wearing the purple cloaks of the town guard of Mikithdar. Caedric had only once met Jhirian Eindrik before as he passed through Orevale, though he had been very young and he doubted their meeting had left much of an impression. The Jarl, however, was full of surprises, greeting Caedric as an old friend might.
"Caedric, my lad," Jhirian smiled, removing his winged helmet and handing it to one of the guards before firmly grasping Caedric's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Caedric Moore, the dragon slayer. Welcome to Mikithdar."
"It is a pleasure, Jarl Eindrik."
"Bah, nonsense. Call me Jhirian. Now, where is this dragon of yours? And don't point to your ship, now, fearsome as she is."
Caedric stepped back as two of his men brought forth their grisly cargo: the skull of the male Echowyrm, the female's having already been mounted in the great hall of Ulchabhan Castle. The Jarl was visibly impressed, taking great interest in the shape of the dragon's horns and the number of teeth it had possessed in life, and if the smirk he gave when Caedric showed him the sword he'd found was any indication, Caedric knew he had stumbled upon something rarely seen.
"This dragon will look great above my mantle," Jhirian grinned, clapping Caedric on the shoulder before handing him back the sword he had found. "But I have no need for a dingy old blade such as this," he said with a wink from his one eye. "I'll have my men reforge it before you leave and you may keep it as a token of my gratitude."
"Thank you, my Jarl."
"You're welcome, Laddie. Come. Let us make for my dining hall; there is a feast laid out for us in your honor."
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As usual, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!
Ronin
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-The Dragon's Head-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Mikithdar, capital of Garheim...
The longboat creaked and groaned as it rocked gently on the waves lapping against the thick wooden pilings of the dock, blue-clad soldiers here and there tying her mooring ropes to the bollards and lowering gangplanks to the pier below. The Dragon's Blood, a wooden longboat built in traditional Garhim fashion and given to Caedric Moore by his wife's uncle, had proven more than sea-worthy, bearing the Commander of the Valeguard and his men from the shores of Black Loch north to Jharton Bay and down the mighty Havenhill River to Lake Mikithdar. Built on the vast deep lake, the capital of Garheim was much larger than many others cities in the north, dwarfing all of Orevale Hold, and the docks were packed with boats and ships of all sizes coming and going, their hulls laden with fish, furs, lumber, stone, and steel, along with spices and other commodities not native to Garheim.
Caedric watched his soldiers absentmindedly as they unloaded their cargo, men and women of Orevale alike with the sigil of the Valeguard emblazoned on their blue tunics: a silver owl and an onyx falcon, half of each meeting the other on a black and white field. Gulls cried overhead, floating lazily on the cool breeze as thick snowflakes fell slowly and steadily from a sky the color of burnished steel to land softly on the thin layer that already blanketed the roofs of the houses lining the waters' edge.
"The Jarl, my lord," a voice sounded to his left, snapping him from his reverie. Turning, he noticed his shieldman Sir Layton Connors, grey mustache blowing in the salt breeze, and followed his gaze to the house closest to them as the Jarl of Garheim approached, flanked by two soldiers wearing the purple cloaks of the town guard of Mikithdar. Caedric had only once met Jhirian Eindrik before as he passed through Orevale, though he had been very young and he doubted their meeting had left much of an impression. The Jarl, however, was full of surprises, greeting Caedric as an old friend might.
"Caedric, my lad," Jhirian smiled, removing his winged helmet and handing it to one of the guards before firmly grasping Caedric's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Caedric Moore, the dragon slayer. Welcome to Mikithdar."
"It is a pleasure, Jarl Eindrik."
"Bah, nonsense. Call me Jhirian. Now, where is this dragon of yours? And don't point to your ship, now, fearsome as she is."
Caedric stepped back as two of his men brought forth their grisly cargo: the skull of the male Echowyrm, the female's having already been mounted in the great hall of Ulchabhan Castle. The Jarl was visibly impressed, taking great interest in the shape of the dragon's horns and the number of teeth it had possessed in life, and if the smirk he gave when Caedric showed him the sword he'd found was any indication, Caedric knew he had stumbled upon something rarely seen.
"This dragon will look great above my mantle," Jhirian grinned, clapping Caedric on the shoulder before handing him back the sword he had found. "But I have no need for a dingy old blade such as this," he said with a wink from his one eye. "I'll have my men reforge it before you leave and you may keep it as a token of my gratitude."
"Thank you, my Jarl."
"You're welcome, Laddie. Come. Let us make for my dining hall; there is a feast laid out for us in your honor."
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
As usual, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!
Ronin
Thank you!