NationStates Jolt Archive

Githras smiled as he looked over the invites, it was a strange affair, he had met Alataire many times as she was the Matriarch of House Leuthilspar and therefore a member of his Council but it wasn't until a year ago that he had looked upon her as anything other than a friend and ally, But several pieces of legistration had them working late into the night in drafts and rewrites... and things had changed

Now he was on the verge of fulfilling one of his duties as a king, and to be married. He was king and some duties had to be followed which is why invites found their way out to the leaders of any nation they had had contact with.



King Githras by the Grace of the Seldarine
Founder of Giltheran
Wielder of the Second Blade of Rulers
Has the great pleasure to annouce his engagment to the Lady Alataire Matriarch of the House Leuthilspar. And hereby extends his warmest greetings. In honour of this event he invites you to his wedding

Meanwhile Giltheran was awash with activity from around the country dignitys great and small had arrived to witness the evnt, and artists, craftsmen and other skilled artists poured into the City carrying examples of their work and other such gifts, the city was filled to over flowing and still the guests poured in, around the outskirts of the city a virtual sub town had sprang up as the Sy-Tel'Quesir erected Lodges quickly which helped to ease the overcrowding inside.

((OOC well sue me, Githras needed a wife. :) ))

The preparations started long before any guests would be expected to arrive, as the Spelljammer Dreaming Star was prepared for the celebration the night before, it's deck had laid out onto enchantments of everysort, from harmless illusions of light and sound to more specialised ones to surprise the guests. Meanwhile the Tower of Light made it's own contributions the High Mages giving two gifts the happy couple. The first was utilising it's control of the weather it began to slowly bring the area into summer, promising on the days of the celebration clear skys.

Of course such twisting of the natural order had to be balanced and this was what the High Magi where doing right now, and so for a while it would be rainy and windy, few minded it was for after all a good cause.

The other gift was a surprise for the King and guests, but they worked night and day practicing the shape and sound of the image they seeked to create, and held out high hopes for it's splendor.

Meanwhile the Temple was prepared and flowers strung across the aisle, choirs practiced daily, and the fashion stores of the nation, as well as cloth merchents ran a roaring trade, Wine was brought in from all the Vin Yards of the Isles as well as from abroad, STC contributing many cases of vintages from many nations, it was hoped that any guest who turned up would bve able to have a taste of home if they desired it.

A reply was quickly dispatched;

No. I have better things to do.

Emperor Mephet’ran


The Emperor had come to find the Giltherani annoying meddlers, and sometimes wished he'd killed them all at first sight. He looked up, "Elash, about those evictions..." he said.

“Don’t you think that was a bit harsh dear?” Luinthelë asked, her voice rather persuasive, “It’s not as if they’ve all been annoying you. You shouldn’t tar large groups with the same broad brush strokes like that,” she added.

“Well, it’s always served me in the past,” he replied, leaning forward a little and looking out over the ocean.

“Well,” she said, “At least let me go.”

“Oh very well. Go. Why you want to go to this one and not the previous one I suggested to you is beyond me…” he added resentfully.

I however, unlike the Emperor, have the time and would find attending your marriage a superlative honour, and I shall make immediate preparations for departure.

http://www.necrontyr.plus.com/images/luinav.jpg
Lady Luinthelë nos Ancalimë
Titular Vice-Regent of the Province of Vinyandor.

Bumb first and only then if still no interest I'll just write this up as a story thread since it does effect my nation.

OOC Looks around a bit embarresed whoops I missed Ctany's change of heart.))

Luinthelë We would be pleased and honoured to have you as our first guest from foreign shores at our wedding. My Fiancie and I look forward to meeting you.

We have of course cleared a suite at the Palace of Souls for your arrival and seated you at the main table for the celebrations. As previously stated the actual celebrations start the night before the wedding. We hope you can attend the reception on the Spelljammer, as the High Magi have promised quite a spectacle.

From: Empress Ithenril

It would be my pelasure to attend this celebration, and also to meet you for the first time, I do not hope the attendance of myself and my husband is a burden to you.

Emperor Taria Tiu

"Though regretfully I may not at this Time attend your expectedly splendid celebration I shall, if permited, send in my stead Lord Admiral Tyler Kenash, high commander of the Jitanese Fleet. He will carry the honour of Jitano as witness to this blessed event."

Lady Ithenril,

Your attendence will be a welcome sight, My Fiancie and I look forward to meeting yourself and your husband. It is said that the presence of those joined in such unions can only bless those about to enter it. Of ocurse a place shall be placed aside at the main table for such agaust personages. A Suite has been placed aside at the Palace of Souls, that we hope you will find pleasing.

By The Grace of the Seldarine I remain:-
King Githras


A second letter is also sent out later

Emperor Taria Tiu

We understand the duties of leadership, and one has to her nation if your repersentative can be spared then rest assured he will be well recieved. If not we shall of course understand the pressures on ones time of your military leadership.

By the Grace of the Seldarine I remain:-
King Githras.


Both letters arrive with a seeming pop and a small flash at their respective destination, the letters themselves are written by Githras the spell is simply used to transport them over the distance, far faster than other methods of travel. A Caution accompnies all the letters, advising that the Islands of Giltheran lie near the land of Ermor and while the King personally assures the guests safty, he will understand should guests desire to make their own security arrangments and will accept Five Body guards per guest to reside within the Palace during the celebration.

((OOC I don't expect any trouble but... Well it's a part fo the Elves life here, they live next to a evil that wants the destruction of all the living.))

"How terribly polite of them. And to think my perceptions of the elves had been thoroughly skewed.I believe this shall require a suitable gift." The emperor said, reading over the message carefully
" Yes my lord, If I may, I think I have a suggestion..."

OOC: you'll just have to wait and see what it is.

Your Majesty,
We shall send our younger sister, the Grand Duchess Nianki, to represent us at this affair.
Respectfully,
High Queen Corrina

It was not like this had gone past the ears of the undead of Ermor. Of course it had not, as the Giltherans are practically their neighbors and the undead follow their moves with some level of curiosity. They wanted to send someone there. Someone whose passage they could not bar with their "holy" magics. Yes, one of the Dusk Elders who now lived would work quite well.

He would be to just appear there when it has started, unannounced, of course. They knew that the Giltherans did not quite understand that they were in left in peace only due to the fact that the undead did not think that their isles were important to them. And as such, they knew that they would never let one of them to attend such a "holy" ceremony.

(OOC: This is secret stuff. I made this post to tell you that an Ermorian will attend, too.)

Grand Duchess Nianki arrives, dressed in a splendid golden, sleeveless dress split up to mid-thigh on the left leg. The collar is high, marked with the outline of a falcon on either side, showing only the front of her neck. Her golden hair is worn in an intricate updo and her feet rest upon 2" heels. Pointed ears taper elegantly up and her entire body subtley shines, marking her sidhe heritage. Nonetheless, none of this social finery hides her warrior's body. Her muscular thigh and calf are on display, thick and taught enough that one could easily imagine the woman making Olympic class longjumps. Her arms, thickly muscled, nonetheless hang in a relaxed pose, her hands folded demurely before her lap.

Behind Nianki walk a dozen troll warriors, her escort. Blue-skinned and eight to nine feet tall, the trolls stand proud, horns poking from high brows. Blue hair is cut neatly and shining steel armor adorns their forms. For the occassion, they have limited themselves to purely ceremonial swords, mere cavalry swords hanging from their belts.

((Ermor understood. And a linky for those who need it. Intro to Giltheran (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=343468)))

IC

The arrival of the Grand Duchess Nianki was some what of a surprise, in that she had brought Twelve Trolls, as her bodygaurd. Or rather that she had such a large bodygaurd, no chambers existed to suit such a large force, and so Seven of them where sked to bunk with the Palace Guard for the duration of their stay.

Her rooms, and indeed the rooms of all the guests where lavish if unusual, formed as they where from the Tree itself at least in part, almost all however contained a section that was more open, out amongest the branches of the tree. Open to the elements these part of the rooms where both Private and exposed, the leaves helping to keep eyes away from guests and yet not getting in the way of their ability to enjoy the view afforded by thise unique position.

The rooms where another area in which the people of Giltheran where proud, not a single luxury was missing, baths where avaible to guests at any temperature desired, (and if you don't think hot and cold running water in a tree is not something to be proud of...) as was a small fireplace, although here a slight of hand had been used. No fire burned in the Palace of Souls, rather a Stone gave off heat through a simple spell while another spell gave an illusion of flames crackling, and logs buring away. To those who did not know the truth it would appear to be the real thing.

A Four Poster bed, was layed out in each of the Suites in a main chamber around them in a sepearte room was a place for the guards and retainers to sleep, slightly less lavish, they where still comfortable and well layed.

Of course by now the weather was simply spectacular, warm and yet not stifling a cool, refreshing breeze cut through the air, it was in many ways perfect, although even here the High Magi had been careful, and it was not perfect, as perfection soon gets dull.

((If people want to arrive I shall start the actual reception on the Spell jammer tommorow))

Nianki raises no objection to the reassignment of her guards. Upon being shown her room, she dismisses her five remaining attendants to their adjoining bedrooms immediately and sets about examining the room. The running water brings about a faint smile and the fire quickly gains her attention. Her sidhe sight sees the faint air of magic though the spell is unfamiliar. Is it a balefire? No, she quickly sees that it is not but she does not recognize the magic used. It never occurs to her that the fire itself is the illusion. After some time, she goes to bath to prepare for the celebration. She is slightly disappointed she was not met at the gate by anyone of great import. She had dressed up uncomfortably enough for the trip, though, she supposed, her kind were theoretically supposed to -like- dressing like this.

It was perhaps an hour after her arrival that word reached Githras, things where as could be imagined a little hectic in the Palace, and a slight nervous atmosphere pervaded the Palace, beyond the 'simple' chaos of a wedding arrangments it almost seemed, something else hung in the air, a slight worry. Eventualy through word reached him and he rushed to the chambers assigned to Nianki. A Knock at the door to annouce his presence and he cautiously entered the Suite.

Tall for the Tel'Quassir his appearance was simple but stylish by his side he bore a Stunning blade, it was easily the most eye catching thing about him, the rest of his clothing seemed to reflet the personality of a man used to combat, and the need for free movement, even while at rest. Giving a bow to the Duchess on entering he looked apologetic. 'Mylady Word has only just reached me of your arrival, I apologise for this, fact. I hope you can understand that the usual state of affairs here is a little, off kilter, but that is no excuse for the gross breech of etiquete.'

'I hope you find these rooms in any case to your satisfaction?'

He was he had to admit intriqued by the lady, this world held many surprises but this was a new one. She seemed, much like his own people, to be off an Ancient power, almost faded from the land.

((Some casual notes that she might have sensed on arriving in Giltheran, (Especially with her appearant sensitivity to Magic, the land seems alive with it. An ancient, and yet new, power pervades the land. As if here magic itself is stronger. Especially here in the tree. (Basically the tree of souls generates High Magic and spreads it further, within Giltheran Truely awesome feats of Magic are possible. Feats which outside of Giltheran the attempt to cast will kill the mage) Also the tree of souls is named that for a very good reason. Souls willingly gave their afterlives up to help make this tree and reside within it, even now. They can't interact with the world but she may be able to sense them.))

Alerted by the knock, Nianki hurried into her elegant nightgown of purest white before Githras entered. She met his bow with an elegant curtsey. "On the contrary, Your Majesty, I am grateful for the chance to relax somewhat. The room is quite charming, truly. The water, in particular, intrigues me. Is it nocker work? And I cannot identify the magic of your fire." She smiles gently, seeming beyond content, feeling truly at home for the first time she can remember in the magical atmosphere. "I must say, you cut a dashing figure. Your betrothed is a fortunate lady."

A Slightly embarresed look crossed his face as he realised how close he had came to making a larger breech of etiquete at bursting on the lady undressed. Still she seemed to be, understanding and he let that one slide without mentioning it. Somethings where better left unsaid.

A slight smile, crossed his face at mention of his Betrothed, and then a small crease of concern as his thoughts wandered, 'I truely hope she is mylady.' He spoke momentary darkly, his words giving rise to some secret concern. Then he seemed to shrug it off turning to regard the fire. 'It's a couple of minor enchantments in all honesty, an Illusion of flame and a Fire-Stone, we do not bring Fire into the Palace of Souls... While the Palace is protected against Flame, we see no reason to test the Enchantments.'

He paused in thought again as he considered the word Nocker and with a final shrug he tried his best to explain. 'The Water is drawn from the Palace itself, it's roots drink up vast amounts of water, far more than it needs, and we draw from the tree what is needed. Hot Water is Passed first through Fire Stones, and then out into your bath. The Druids of the Sy-Tel'Quessir could explain how it is achieved better, I am afraid.'

Nianki nods a little, examining the fire. "I see it now. I was merely not expecting the fire itself to be illusory. Almost all magical places in the Resurgent Dream have a magical fire at their heart." She eases down into a chair, crossing her muscled legs.

She looks a little concerned when he seems to be worrying over his betrothed. "This must be an unfamiliar time for you, though also a joyous one. There is little I can offer by way of advice. I am not yet wed myself nor has my sister yet choosen an intended for me. While I am glad of the chance to meet you in depth, I was honestly not expecting to have the chance. I was surprised to be the first here. How many are you expecting?"

Her gaze moves to his sword, her own muscles flexing almost instinctively. She rises, moving towards one of her bags and opening it, displaying her sheathed, large broadsword. "I can tell you are a warrior. So am I. If you would like a moment's distraction from the pre-nuptual worries, it would be my honor to spar with you, if I could be granted a moment to dress."

'I am unsure as to the number of Guests, many will likely attend different parts of the Celebration, as is there right. We tend to make such things open amongest the Tel'Quessir I suspect the Clan Chiefs and the Matriarchs and Patriarchs will almost all be in attendence. A Few of the other inhabitents of these Isles may attend also. Visiting dignitarys is still a little open, we have a few confirmations, more than we feared, less than perhaps we might have hoped.' He smiled a moment, 'But then I might have hoped for the world to come, so perhaps I'm a little biased in that regards.'

Pausing to admire the Broadsword he smiled a moment and nodded. 'I would be honoured to Spar, perhaps you are right, and it will distract me from my worries, take all the time you need to ready yourself and I shall send for my practice blade.' He looked a moment at his own blade and for a second the worry on his face seemed greater than before, it was almost as if he was afraid of it in someway.

((I may be laying it on a bit thick. But this will play into things later I swear;) ))

Nianki nods, smiling, as she leans against the wall, crossing her strong arms. "I am glad to be of help." After he heads out, she changes into finely cured leather breeches, a sleeveless red tunic, and brown boots, reaching for a practice blade behind her broadsword. she straps it to her waist and peeks out the door, hoping to find him waiting.

It took him a little longer to send for his Practice blade but it was soon brought to him, he leaned casually against the wall as the door opened with a nod to the Duchess he smiled. 'Well then shall we make our way to a place more suited to such things. On a day such as this I feel a outdoor enviroment would be best The High magi have done us proud I feel.' Pointing towards a stairway that seemed grown naturally from the bark of the tree it curved both upwards and downwards. 'I have in mind a place well suited to such things, amongest the branches, an enchantment ensures a slip will not be fatal. Although, certainly embarresing.' His face creased momentary with barely constrained laughter.

'And perhaps during the walk you might tell me about your people, and about yourself. I admit we still know very little about this world. Yet you are new to us even on this world of Beasts of Metal and smoke.' Although his term for technology may have seemed primative it held behind it almost a acceptence, and certainly no fear. Perhaps it was even slightly disdainful of such things.

Depends...I might be busy on that day. I do love weddings, though!

Nianki walks with him, smiling lightly. "You are new to us as well. We are from a place beyond this world and many among our kind long to return. I do not. I believe we can make a place for ourselves here. This world of iron and gears could use some more magic. But...what would you know of our people?"

Luinthelë nos Ancalimë’s means of arrival was in one of those beasts of metal, but smoke was something rather absent from its operation. The only thing resembling pollution from it was some occasional bursts of harmless neutrinos and tachyons – sophisticated though the technology of the yngir was, it still had to obey conservation of energy, the one law even magic couldn’t make its way around. The design of C’tan artefacts was indeed often made with the enviroment in mind, not that one would think it to regard the primordial lava and noxious gases of Netu, or the many dead worlds. The slender bullet shaped, or perhaps even spear-head shaped, silver vessel touched down a while in advance of the main event, and the occupant disembarked without incident.

For once she’d chosen to bring the sword, grimly named izindi agan, which she rarely wore even to occasions such as this, an ancient family heirloom from Akallabêth, a straight longsword forged over thirty thousand years ago as part of a great number of armaments produced under the reign of Tar-Minastir to fight against the Dark Lord Sauron on behalf of Gil-Galad. That however, was long ago even by the reckoning of elves, and in all that time it had only seen use again three times, onw of which was in her own hands. It was rather depressing that. Along with that she’d even brought a much younger weapon, a bow that she usually used purely for hunting at home, with her, on the off chance she’d get an opportunity to use it, these people did seem relatively interested in archery from what she’d heard.

Of course, the rest of her raiment was more appropriate to the occasion, consisting of long white robes, carefully tailored to allow surprising ease of movement, and woven with an extravagant yet at the same time restrained leaf pattern. Her hair was tied back somewhat, with green silken ribbons and emeralds in it, and a circlet of mithril rested around her brow, sporting numerous diamonds. Her demenour was calm, pleasant, and friendly to those who greeted her.

The approach to Giltheran is of course dominated by the Guardian a boat needs to sail under it's legs to reach the Port, a disconcerting sight for those unaware of it's animated status, as it's arms raise the sword in salute to visitors. (Also of course to allow it to strike down rapidly on any... unwelcome guests) Of course for this celebration it only saluted visitors and stood it's silent watch over the city.

Things where a little better organised by the time other guests began to arrive and so while Githras was sparing with the first visitor the Bride-to-be met the Lady Luinthelë nos Ancalimë’s. Unlike her fiancie she was what was sometimes refered to as a Moon Elf. and shorter than her husband. She met her guests wearing a more flowing garment, a true lady unlike her husband, she was a artist and dreamer at heart, and had not faced battle. Although she was not afraid if the need should arise. She had a certain charm about her, an ease with company, and a slightly easier attitude about her.

'Greetings and welcome to the Palace of Souls, the Blessings of the Seldarine be upon you.' She curtised as she spoke, for now it was the greeting of equals, as until she was married, and past the test of the sword, she was only Matriarch of her house. A Noble certainly, but not a ruler.

Githras meanwhile nodded, as he listened, 'In many ways the tale is the same, we are from another world, literally. Toril is where most of my people where born, although we are now fortunate to have the First generation born here reaching the age of matuarity. Although that in itself is a lie, for my people are not native to Toril, or rather did not first arise on that world. Still that is a long tale. On Toril our home is Evermeet, a blessed Isle gifted to the Tyr'Quessir by the Seldraine itself. But we repersent those who wished to start a new home for our people, so that all the hopes of our race did not rest on one Isle.' For a moment a grave look crosses his face. 'We perhaps could have selected a better home, but at the time our neighbour across the sea was a calmer place, a more rational place. Who could have forseen the change that came upon them?'

As he spoke he they emerged amongest the branches of the Tree Of Souls, although they where high up above the land below them these branches where still thick and strong, and grew about, twisting in simple beauty a sympthony of colour, and sound as birds rested in the branches seemingly uncorned as the visitors stepped out into the daylight. Many of the branches almsot touched allowing a person to climb and leaps from one to the other, it was obviously heavily used to practice. 'My 'Play-ground' I am afraid. I so seldom get to enjoy the real thing these days, but at least here I can indulge myself.'

Nianki nods grimly. "There are many dangers in the world. We do not choose the world we are given but how we live in it. However, Her Imperial Majesty sent me to offer friendship. One cannot have too many allies in this world." She follows easily, leaping lithely from branch to branch. "In the Empire, we were just fortunate enough to bind ourselves to Akaton, through the marriage of the Princess Aiwyn to the Emperor of that land." Nianki draws her practice blade, assuming a ready position. "I am sure your warriors shall be able to prevail against the threats they face."

'You are of course correct, we cannot choose our place in the world, and by the grace of the Seldarine we will stand. We have not faltered in our past, although we have lost much. Still I mourn what could have been, those now of Ermor could have been great, instead they are fallen into darkness and the unholy.' His tone for a moment was grim then he smiled, and assumed a fighting stance.

His own stance was unusual, half that of a dancer half that of a warrior, it seemed strange to see him stand there. He did not carry a shield although his blade was of the type one would expect to come with shield, that is designed to be wielded one handed. Yet his stance was of one who used to being without shield, his free left hand did not look arkward or out of place it flowed, assuming a accomping posture, one that seemed to maximise both his his ability to strike and defend. It was the pose of a artist.

'Before we begin, I feel we should set the 'rules' My-Lady, shall we keep this a simple affair and make this no magic, or would you be willing to, shall we say, up the stakes a little?' His features where now that of a predator, smelling it's prey, and taking pleasure from the hunt. The glint in his eyes was also a little mischievous.

Nianki smirks faintly, meeting his gaze evenly, with anticipation. "I would like to see what kind of magic your people use so let us use it." She begins to spin her sword before her. After three or four rotations, her speed begins to increase until it grows faster than one would consider anyone capable of. Magical speed quivering in her body, she resumes her position, grinning like a great cat stalking a deer.

He smiled at the choice, his eyes glinting in the light and then of all the things he could do he began to sing, a low melodious voice rose into the air,, his free hand began to weave in the air seemingly in two places at once, filling the role usually ment for two hands.

As he finished he smiled and suddenly where previously he had been alone, six identical versions of himself stood, coping the movements of the original completly. These where illusion of course, and insubstantial, but they also acted to shift his position amongest the Five fakes, making it almost impossible to tell him apart from his copies. Of course this would not remain the same way forever, as each copie was struck the fake would disappear but it certainly would make things... Interesting.

'A fine choice then.' He moved now, his feet seeming to glide over the bark of the tree, each step flowing into the next, effortlessly. as he glided towards his opponment.

Born by her magical speed, Nianki swiftly strikes two of the illusions into nothingness. The woman takes a step back, seeking to avoid being surrounded by the images, before lunging at the next. In the mere second or two it takes her to strike through the image of a head, her rear is exposed to her adversary's attack.

If he was concerned to see three of his Mirror images vanish so quickly it did not show, indeed his face appeared calm unconcerned, he was tempted to take advantage of the ladies miscalculation but then he smiled, as he threw himself off the tree, seemingly falling for a few brief seconds, as his voice rose up once more in song. It was all the time he needed to finish his plan, and then he started to rise once more, this time he pulled and pushed himself along the branches of the tree, seeking the advantage of position, and still his voice rose out in song. A Different song this time, with a slight florish he was done, and a smile crossed his face.

Even as he lowered himself once more onto the Branches, his face was calm. 'I felt it wise to join in your speed boost...' This time as he advanced his movements where quicker magically so, like the lady he was, hastened. He also was obviously taking advantage of the Levitiation spell at times, as he leaped towards the Lady his jump seemed longer than phisically possible, a sweep as he passed and then he settled on the branch again.

((Imagine Wire Foo but faster...))

Nianki turns quickly to see the real Githras dive from the braches. A faint blush touches her elegant face as she realizes how easy she could have been stricken. As he levitates above the branches, she crouches, readying her blade upward. She parries his blows as he passes, making rapid though blocked attempt at strikes of her own. "That was wise, though I believe you will more bless your power to levitate." A predatory smile as she separates herself with a few more slashes, taking a strike on the wrist but shrugging it off. Once she's gained a mere five feet of distance, she lowers her sword and thrusts forward with her free hand, palm open. Githras finds himself flying about 30 feet outward as Nianki advances to the edge of the branch, extending her sword defensively into the air in an effort to deny him another landing. "You must forgive me. Few of my battle spells are fit for friendly sparring, Your Majesty." She moves back onto the branch, making room and resuming a ready position with a playful grin. "Unfortunately, few of the men of my court are made of such stuff as you. Of course, it might simply be they do not want to try and best their lady."

Nodding 'Yes that can be a problem I imagine, fortunatly I have friends from before I was to be King. Who are careful to remind me that I too am mortal.' Then he paused to consider his predicament and first smiled and then he began to give a full bellyied laugh.

Almost doubled over in Mirth Githras, eventually managed to explain, 'Ironic I think you'll agree, if I had actually been prepared today for a Spar, you'd have me right about now. You see unfortunetly Levitate dosn't provide Forwards and backwards motion... Before That was provided by my Running jump, so if I had been ready for a Spar today I'd be left hanging out here a rather unglamourous state of affairs. However I chose different spells today, One simply because I can be lazy at times.'

His voice once more rose up in song, and as he finished beneath his feet a black shimmering portal layed on it's side flickered into existence. As it appeared Githras cancelled his levitation and dropped into the doorway disappearing from view. Behind Nianki a second soorway flickered into existence and Githras dropped back into view it happened almost instantly, and he was already striking as his feet touched the Branches.

Taking a few swift blows to the back, arms, and rump, Nianki turns fairly quickly. She deflty parries a few more blows, making a grazing blow against his right arm and a firm swat at his side, even as a bher parries fail and she takes a few more blows herself. Nianki smirks faintly as she plans something, suddenly jerking back. She feigns left, feigns right, then leaps upwards, doing a rapid flip above his head. Spinning on one heel, she moves her blade rapidly around, pulling it towards his neck. For a moment, it looks like she's won and she does smirk lightly before the blade almost immediately falls down as she loses her foothold on the branch, her balance upset by the sudden flip. One hand rapidly graps the branch as the practice sword plummets downwards. Her muscular arm strains a little as she tries to pull. Her face blushes bright red. "I am afraid I am not used to fighting in the treetops. It requires...somewhat different skills." She lifts another arm, reaching unsuccessfully for the branch once more. "Your Majesty...it is embarassing to me as a warrior to admit it but...I seem quite the damsel in distress at the moment."

Nodding, he stands a moment almost in consideration then reaches down to offer his hand. 'I suppose it would be unfortunate for you to fall, I doubt it would make a good impression on you.' With a Grunt of excertion he Pulled Nianki forwards and upwards.

Below him the plumating blade passes some unseen and unmarked point and then for a few brief minutes hangs mid air spinning around before hanging suspended for a minute Blade facing downwards. before slowly desceding in that manner, as through it where a feather, landing on the ground lightly. Which was fortunate perhaps, as servents worked furiously below them in last minute preparations.

'Although I should note your not in any Distress My-Lady, as I said, I took steps to ensure a fall from here would not be fatal. Or rather I commisioned such steps.' He corrected himself,and winked to Nianki conspirtory.

She winks back. "My pride was in distress, Your Majesty." She moans lightly as she's hoisted up, settling onto the branch. "There are few such places as this in my lands, you understand. All my fighting before has been done on tundra." Nianki slides an arm through the king's, heading back towards the inside. "I do look forward to meeting your betrothed. Are ladies in your not normally warriors as well?"

As she moves to reeneter the tree, Nianki takes another long look out over the practice area, the same faint blush touching her face. "I do believe our two peoples might well become friends, Your Majesty. I must confess that you have made quite an impression on me. It would not surprise me if Her Imperial Majesty wished to set up some formal bond of alliance in the near future. How would you feel about such a possibility, sire?" Her gaze focuses somewhere off in space, lost in time for a moment, before she shakes her head clear and looks back towards Githras. "The very air of this place feels more like home than anywhere outside some parts of the Empire."

Luinthelë smiled and curtsied in return, “I thank you, and may the Grace of the Valar protect you.”

She knew of some details of these Seldarine, indeed, there was some level of a ‘mission’ or some such in The C’tan, it hadn’t really taken off that much, but they were still there. She and many of her kind found such religious-ness a little disturbing, especially the variant of the Ar-Tel’Quessir, the other ones, that called themselves Silver Elves, or the Teu-Tel’Quessir, such as the one that stood before her now, were generally regarded as somewhat more healthy in their worship, even though their religious practices tended to devalue property around their establishments – inebriation and loudness seemed to be the order of the day when praising their deities, though of them the only two Luinthelë could actually identify were “Angharradh” and “Corellon Larethian” though she knew there were more in this Seldarine of theirs.

In any case, though she thought the concept of “Worship” a little silly or indeed, sinister, depending on who was being worshipped. In this case, it fell into the former classification, quite harmless, at least in the case of the “Moon Elves” and it made them happy, so she’d hardly object. Likewise, she considered herself to be rather more important, in terms of nobility, than her title suggested. She supposed that the identity of her “daughter” would come out eventually, though even then, she was quite prepared to respect Alataire, unless she did something terribly wrong.

Alataire examined closer the repersentative from the Empire, something was familar about this woman, but eventually she decided it would keep. 'I hope your journey was plesent, we have your suite ready of course.' As she spoke a servent approached and with a courtesy whispered in Alataire's ear, with a slight blush the future Queen of Giltheran nodded in understanding. 'Ahh Well it appears I am running a little late, I apologise, but the nights reception is due to start in a few hours and my Hand-Maid is demanding my presence. Seems I have to go and prepare. Still I should have enough time to show you to your Suite if you'd like.' She did not look too eager to leave and go prepare, indeed she was in part dreading it, her 'Hand-Maid' was well known throughout the court for her ability to place even the highest born quickly in their place.

His arm linked Nianki he nodded, 'My Betrothed is a fearless woman but not a warrior, still should these lands be threatened I know she would be where the peril was greatest.' His voice lowered as he spoke, as his mind wandered a little in thought and However this is not to say that women are anyless the warrior amongest the Tel'Quessir, we do not seperate male from Female in such things. Indeed how could we, when in the begining Corellion the Leader of the Seldarine, our God's, was neither Male nor Female.' a Certain touch of simple referance entered his tone as he discussed his God's. Still it was not the voice of a Fanatic, simply of one who was devout, without it being all consumning.

'As for an alliance my lady, well I would not be adverse to such things' A Light chuckle as he spoke, and they neared the door back inside. 'As you say our people have much in common and I am glad you find the aura of high magic from the Tree so restful.'

They turned towards her chambers as they walked, 'Perhaps we can discuss such things this eve, at the reception. I think you will find the Spell-Jammer a remarkable experiance.'

Nianki smiled. "In fact, I shall send to Her Imperial Majesty in the meantime." She pauses, reflecting on his words about the gods. "I must say, that intrigues me. It is not a quality possessed by any of our gods. Dana, the Mother of the Gods, was, well, a mother, and all of her children have a distinct gender."

As she arrives back by the room, she peers off, thinking. "You know, I've heard rumors that our own Queen Elaine is to be wed soon. No one knows who the lucky lord is yet, however. Even the high queen denies knowing, and my sister does not lie. And Princess Aiwyn, my niece was wed but a short while ago. I seem to be becoming quite the professional wedding attendant. Of course, who could complain? It is the happiest time in two people's lives."

Nianki considers his description of his bride's courage. "Then she is truly a worthy queen. However, I do sincerely hope no situation arises which calls for such action. This land is a precious treasure of good in a dark world and I would wish no grief to touch its borders."

'Indeed until recently I thought it would be my fate to never marry, it may sound strange but intil I became King I never had the time.' Pausing a moment he corrected himself, 'No I suppose I never had the stability, I work harder now than in my youth, I just don't travel.'

He nodded as they reached her suite, and smiled, 'I thank you for your words about our land, we are proud of the work we have done here. Any way My-Lady I shall see you tongiht, I must go prepare, I fear, my betrothed will not be happy if I turn up in a state from my games.' His face the picture of mock fear he bowed once more then turned and strode off lazily...

((OOC Post descriping the Reception to come. I just need to pull up some details))

Nianki smiles as she curtsies. "Of course, Your Majesty. I should prepare myself as well." She slips back into her room, peeking into a nearby room and speaking briefly with one of her guards. She then moves back into her room, undressing and heading back into the restroom to wash the sweat of battle off.

The Dreaming Star was laid out in colors as varied as the peoples of Giltheran. The hull and decking was made of a hardened ceramic, as in the past the Tel’Quessir had fought creatures of the sea, that could only be harmed through Fire, and Acid, and the hull was designed to catch fire. Its shape was reminiscent of a Butterfly and now it hovered in the night air, above the Palace of Souls a gangplank connecting the vessel to the Palace, to allow the guests to board. Githras and the Lady Alaitaire had of course already boarded, and where now sat in the Captains quarters, awaiting departure so they could go and mingle with the guests.

Still for now what might catch the eyes of the guests was the band sat near the rudder of the vessel, for although it flew, and had an unusual shape at it’s heart it was a sailing vessel, and many of it’s features reflected this fact. Behind the band almost tucked away out of sight was a mage sat casually in a seat, a strange device rested on his head, beside him stood a Man-At-Arms, whose role was to politely but firmly request the guests not bother the mage.

At the center of the Deck sat a table almost groaning under the weight of a myriad of refreshments and waiting staff circled to offer drinks to guests. The main refreshment on display was Evermead, although Dew-Wine was also evident along with other spirits, and softer drinks. Each of the glasses seemed to sparkle in an ever shifting pattern of color never repeating the same display. A simple enchantment assured that fact.

Many elven guests where obviously in display but there where a few others small winged humanoid figures danced around in the night air,, and other slightly larger, reptilian creatures joined them they seemed to take great pleasure in playing pranks on the other guests although none of their games seemed aimed to cause harm. A Large proud creature, whose lower body was that of a Horse and his upper that of a Man took center stage in one corner, although some of the attention he received, he seemed far from glad of, as he became prime target for a small group of Pixies and Dragon-Fairies.

And above the Vessel a Flock of Giant Eagles swooped and swirled eager to join the fun, and indeed occasionally landing upon the vessel to partake in the refreshments before rejoining their companions. It was, simply put a magical affair, and the whole of Giltheran had come to join the celebrations. Out in the streets of the City the party had begun in earnest.

For a heavily muscled amazon, Nianki certainly knows how to dress like a courtly lady. For the celebration, she wears her hair up in an intricate pattern, fine braids of glittering golden hair woven elegantly atop her head. She wears a golden dress with a high collar. Emeralds stud her collar on either side and a golden chain necklace hangs over her neck, bearing a medallion of a gryffon over her chest. Her skirts spread into a wide hoop, billowing around her. The skirts are slashed in intricate, rennaissance patterns, revealing silver underskirts. She seems to glide over the floor as she surveys the room, awaiting the king and his betrothed.

Luinthelë of course, arrived on time, and walked around on the deck looking at the assorted sights taking them in with interest, she found the drinks to be somewhat different from her usual taste, but didn’t refuse them anyway. She seemed most impressed by the Giant Eagles, though they resembled Manwë’s eagles greatly, they were however smaller – Thorondor had had a wingspan of thirty fathoms, in more modern terms, one hundred and eighty feet, no less, and his kin had more sane but still rather large sizes, – but they were still quite attractive creatures. She wandered over to where they were occasionally landing and watched them.

Nianki looks half-expectantly at Luinthele as the elf arrives. Muscular hands unnecessarily smooth her skirts as she glides towards the refreshments. The Grand Duchess daintily samples various small foods as she idly makes small talk with the nobles of the realm. Her eyes move occassionally to the giant eagles and other local beings, making mental notes on the many residents of Giltheran.

After a few moments, Nianki's eyes settle on the entrance, awaiting the king and the future queen. As is often the way of the sidhe, she fades out briefly, lost in a distant time and place. After only a moment, she shakes her head clear, blushing ever so faintly.

Meanwhile, the troll guards mill about the grounds. Every now and again, they look up at the spelljammer, wondering what their lady is up to. To pass the time, they eventually wander to the training grounds, taking turns sparring with one another.

((OOC if anyone (Theallas) wants to arrive its okay just assume you where onboard))

The Eagles seem to take the attention of Luthiele in their stride, as they feed, large creatures, and free spirited, they where not ones for the trappings of civilization however, and large hunks of meats are brought to them, uncooked and freshly slain, although the chefs had added a few spices and herbs, which the Eagles suffered through in good manners. Understanding that no cook, worthy of the title could quite bring themselves to serve something untouched. They chattered and squawked amongst themselves quite excitedly, if restrained. Eventually one looked up at the Elf woman. ‘Elf-Woman who is not, we speak later yes? When Elf-Kings Ship return?’

As the appointed hour arrives the vessel slips it’s ‘moorings’ and heads off into the night, heading higher into the sky, until it passes through the clouds and into the sky above, at some point during this journey the Eagles turn and leave the vessel, as it passes their own endurance. Sill it went higher eventually it passes through the atmosphere and into the realm known to the Elves as the Realmspace, to the others onboard the vessel it might simply be Outer space. Here with an unobstructed view of the stars a man emerges from the Captains Quarters and with a cough announces loudly.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, Honored guests and Friends, I have the Pleasure to announce your Hosts for the evening King Githras, Lord of Giltheran, Defender of the Tel’Quessir, and champion of the Seldarine, and his Betrothed, the Lady Alaitaire, Matriarch of the House Leuthilspar.’ As the man finishes the door opens once more and the couple emerge. Their outfits obviously chosen to stand out in the depths of space, the star light catches of their clothing casting a thousand reflections. The Lady Alaitaire seems to have gone for a simple approach and wears a simple dress, the mix of silk and her jewelry however is unusual. The pieces she wore gifts from various artists around the land. They had been the work of lifetimes, and showed, as they twisted amongst themselves each piece a stand alone piece of art but actually designed to be worn as a set, it truly stands out. As for Githras, he wears a Red and blue outfit, somewhat reminiscent of a Kai, but for more regal, and by his side the Moonblade is belted. They emerge arm in arm.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, Please raise your glasses.’ As the man speaks once more the servants circle the guests handing out glasses of Fresh Feywine.

‘I shall keep it simple for tonight, it is said that when the first Tel’Quessir had Children, a strange malady befell these Children, the first generation. For unlike their Parents they where not created by the Seldarine, and needed the things of the Earth to live. In despair the Parents, the First Tel’Quessir turned to the Seldarine, in confusion for they did not understand. The Seldarine looked upon this first Generation and saw what was missing, and so gifted the First Tel’Quessir the secret of Feywine, and they where well. Therefore we toast tonight the simplest things in memory and thanks for that gift. We toast Health.’

((Feywine is a rare drink, rare in that it is seldom served to Non-Elves. It is said to involve Distilled moonlight somehow.))

A human male had appeared into the room. From where, how or even when, it was practically impossible to say. Yet he was there, standing inconspicuously next to the table with food on the opposite side of where the couple had come in from. He wore a purple robe, one well sewn and in a quite good condition, one that was of the ancient Thaumaturgs of Ermor, one with no decorations. He just stood there, smiling at the couple. His presence would not seem overly malignant - in fact, he would seem quite the opposite. Odd for someone that is from the lands of the dead, but that may well be one of the boons of regaining true life and leaving death that came too soon behind.

Nianki takes the glass with a light smile of thinks and an inclination of her head. She raises the glass with the others, clinking the glasses of those in her immediate area. "To health." The Grand Duchess takes a hearty drink before moving towards a servant, speaking briefly before taking a package. After curtseying towards the royal couple, she glides that way. "It is good to see you once more Your Majesty, and it is good to meet you, Your Ladyship. I have brought a gift from Her Imperial Majesty, if it please you."

The shieldmaiden pays no particular attention to one human among the many guests. If he is here, it must be because the Lord of the land wishes him here. Besides, there is nothing suspicious or even unfriendly in the actions of this man. She does nod briefly and politely as she passes the Ermorian.

Meanwhile, the first of many troll guards is sinking to the ground beneath the sparring area. It is unlikely the bulky race will master fighting on branches anytime in the foreseeable future.

((OOC Note Ermor it's not a room but an open deck. I should have perhaps made that clear everyone. Their is appently nothing between the guests and space. (In actual fact there is an invisible fbubble but hay we don't need to get exact here) Also one slight edit to my above post. It dosn't change anything. I just checked a source and am correcting a small mistake.))

IC Turning o face the Grand Duchess he smiled in greeting, 'Ahh Lady Nianki, I had hoped to see you tonight. May I introduce my betrothed the Lady Alaitaire.'
By his side the woman cursies and then chuckles, 'For tonight Alaitaire will do, so you are the woman who stole my Fiancie away to play in the branches today.' Her tone was light and good natured with a small hint of teasing in her tone directed towards Githras. 'I hear you aquainted yourself well in the branches, for one not used to them.'

For a minute they both seem distracted by the human neither can quite place him or his arrival, but in the end they where unconcerned, perhaps he was a factor for STC. Turning back to Nianki they smiled apologeticly, 'A Gift, there is no need, truely, that you made the journey is enough for us.'

The streets of the City where now filled to overflowing and the Troll guards where left for a while in peace, although it did not last. Eventually a couple staggered out into the night air, where they trained and for a while they seemed obvlious to the presence of others. When they did notice they merely shrugged and moved on, eyes only for each other. The Tel'Quessir it seemed had few inhibitions.

Nianki smiles. "So I am, Alataire. You may call me Nianki." She extends a hand to the lady. "And it is my pleasure to give you a gift. It is to demonstrate the friendship of our nation. Her Imperial Majesty was rather insistent." She hands the box to Githras. She speaks pleasantly to Alataire. "I was just telling your husband, Giltheran is the kind of land the people of the Resurgent Dream might find it very easy to be friends with."

Returning the gesture and taking Nianki's hand Alaitaire nodded, 'I was told something about that yes, Githras was quite pleased by the meeting between you two, although of course we would need to discuss such things with the Councils.' As she spoke one of the 'Elven' Nobles seemed to make his way over to the three, and coughed ever so slightly.

'Indeed Mylady, My liege, although speaking for the Baelnorn's we would have few objections.' The man that came forward was robed most of his features obscured behind his clothing and of all the guests he stood out mostly due to the absence of any refreshments. Indeed an observer for entire events might have noticed he had not taken any refreshments during the entire night, even during the Toast it had been an empty glass he had been given.

With a Nod Githras turned to Nianki, 'Ah my lady May I introduce the Leader of the Baelnorn Circle, and my Houses Baelnorn, Lord Melanstir of the Royal House. Formally of Myth Drannor, Formally of Evermeet. Honoured Ancestor of the Tel'Quessir.' The man bowed as he was introduced.

((Some things are certainly odd about this man. For a start he has a strong feeling of magic about him, I don't want to give too much away, but he's not normal Also I know his name has changed since I first used the Baelnorn unfortunatly I kinda Lost the thread I named him in a while back. Due to the change. This then is his new name.))

Luinthelë coughed politely upon drinking the feywine, closing her eyes for a moment, Holy Ainur, it’s sweet and horrendously alcoholic, and I think there is some magic here, she thought, confirming that with a subtle application of her own wizardry, sipping the drink again, sure it has subtleties, but I have the sneaking suspicion that these people like nothing more than getting utterly smashed.

She’d politely responded to the giant eagle that she looked forward to it, and now was managing to busy herself hoping that they could get this flying bucket to hold together long enough for her to get off it again. She wasn’t exactly fond of anything involving a truly ancient means of transport in the hostile environment of space. Please, no one set it on fire she thought to herself I shudder to think what’s going on in the kitchen.

For no particular reason, the elf woman started giggling to herself, and nudged the nearest reveller, “What exactly is in this stuff?”

The reveller appeared to be a lot better off from the drinking the Feywine, whether it was either from experiance of drinking the Wine or simply a much stronger constitution than her slight frame would suggest was really up to the observer to determine. Smiling shelooked over Luinatiare and chuckling explained. 'The exact fermenting process and incredients are a closely guarded secret, but it's been around for sometime, and these things have a habit of getting out. Overall it's a blend of Honey and certain crushed flowers, with what is thought to be distilled Moonlight.' Her tone suggested that she knew more than she was letting on, 'The Moonlight theory does have some evidence as it origins are said to be from the Seldarine more specifically Sehanine Moonbow.'

Bowing the tiniest fraction mostly in greeting, and certainly not as Alaitaire had done earlier as one to an equal she smiled. 'Ahh may I introduce myself, I Angardah Narvis, chief operator of Silver Trading Concerns.' There was something strange about the woman something out of place. Although most people would describe Elves as being timeless in appearance, even another elf would have to use that word for this woman.

By appearance she was to the Teu'Tel-Quessir but it almost seemed to be a role she was playing rather than her true self.

Luinthelë didn’t seem to notice or mind the fact that this woman if she could truly be called that, had snubbed her quite a bit, she had the wisdom, even when reduced by the elfwine of these people, to not make a fuss of such things. Arrogance was rather below her, as paradoxical as that statement would sound. Unfortunately for her perhaps, Luinthelë was used to being in the company of creatures whose life spans made even a creature such as this look like a mayfly, and thus the agelessness of “Angardah Narvis” went unnoticed by her.

“That,” she said, “Is most interesting. And it is a pleasure to meet you, I am Luinthelë nos Ancalimë,” she bowed as much as the other had, “of the C’tan empire…”

Nianki extends her hand to Malanstir, palm down. Baelnor? That sounds a little much like a certain house from the Empire, but she's not going to let that thought show. She simply smiles. "It is an honor to meet you, Lord.I am greatly interested in the houses of your nobility. Might I ask how many you have? The imperial nobility consists of sixteen such houses, though only six have any claim to royalty per se."

Nianki takes a moment to glance around the chamber. :You truly do have some marvellous beings in Giltheran. The eagles certainly seem to have their admirers." Her eyes land on Luinthele as she speaks, smiling lightly.

Nodding to Luinthelësomething finnally clicked in Angardah's mind, 'Mother or daughter of the Lady Fealen?' She had heard some unusual tales of the Lady and now was a chance to follow up on these rumours first hand. The Creature that wore the clothing of the Tel'Quessir saw it as her duty to uncover the truth. Since her time amongest these people she had taken upon herself the role of Guardian to them, although as of this moment they where unaware.


Malenstor shakes his head in thought, 'The Houses arn't Nobility exactly, it's somewhat simpler than that My-lady, the Houses are large extended families. It is after all quite possible that a New born child will come to know his Great-Great-Grandparents. Every member of the Tel'Quessir can found a House as long as they can, ehem Sustain it, or as long as it is sustained. At the moment we have some Thirty full Houses or Clans, of varying sizes.' His tone had somewhat of a lecturing style about it, although more as one who was very old and spoke this way to everyone. A small glint in Githras' eyes gave hints that he had suffered through this many a time, and was simply glad others had that pleasure now.

'That of course does not take into account our Water breathing Kin, who organise themselves seperatly you might think of them as a Vassal State, although the relationship is a lot smoother than the wording would suggest'

At this Githras interjected, partly to save his guest from more of the same. 'As for the various inhabitents of Giltheran, we are allied peoples, the Tel'Quessir simply act as the bridge between our needs. The Eagle's and the Quendi.' Casting a Glance at Luinthelë in explanation. 'Are a curious example of parrell creation, it seems the quendi have legends of a Race known as Eagles, many times in their history the day has been dark only for the Cry of 'The Eagles Come' to bring light to their night. Our Comrdes are not their Eagles, but they must look close enough for...' Tailing of the rest of his sentence obvious he smiled, and quickly searched to save the woman from another lecture, 'However we did not come here for a history lesson. Come drink with us.' With a slight wink 'After all it's my last night of freedom.'

Turning to the band he nodded and the deck was silent a moment, then the music changed to a style more suited to dancing, the Tel'Quessir seemed to need little excuse and couples formed at the center of the deck, as they danced under the stars. Turning to Nianki he extended his arm, as another guest came and took the arms of his Betrothed. 'Would you care for a dance My-Lady?'

Luinthelë smiled, her expression turning a little more serious than it usually was, "I have the honour of being her mother," she said with a smile. The idea still struck her as a little ironic, even after many years, "Why do you ask?" Her hand crept to her breast, brushing against something hard and unyielding underneath her expensive clothing as it did so. She seemed to grow, becoming more serious and less... drunk... as this happened, not through any trickery, arcane or technological, but by will alone, and awaited her answer.

Nianka slides her arm into his with a smile. "I would love to. That is, if your betrothed does not object to me stealing her affianced twice in as many days." She moves towards the dance floor with him."How many peoples does your land have? We, too, are a very diverse nation. Perhaps I should have brought a wider array of servants to demonstrate the full range of our populace but the trolls seemed most appropriate. They do seem to elicit surprise many places. Most seem to assume them to be hostile creatures until they actually meet one."

The woman smiled and shrugged, 'Fascination, interest, and because I have heard the name many times. Sometimes in warmest regards, sometimes with an edge of caution thrown in.' Shrugging as through it made little differance in her eyes. 'Of course all beings are so, from the Noblest to the darkest they are, contradictions. I have known the most Noble Heart, the most brave defender of the weak take joy in the slaying of his foes in battle, and have seen the vilest creatures defend a Clutch of their Young with no regards for their own safty, and so I look at the Mother.' perhaps a strange choice of words a Clutch of their Young.

For a moment through she looked at the woman as she tried to impose her presence and smiled, allowing a small amount of her own presence to leak around the edges, a small hint of what lay behind her eyes as they flashed the brightest Silver, seemingly to sour upon winds and then they where gone, a subtle warning perhaps or a simple accident. She continued as through she barely noticed. 'Of course the greatest clue as to the mind of the Child is their Parents, and the greatest guide to the Parent is the Child. So I am left to wonder about you.'

The elf woman smiled, her expression still warm and open despite her inward curiosity. "Yes indeed," she said, "much has been said of my daughter, and many opinions can be found. Dare I ask" she said, "if you yourself have had... a clutch..." her voice seemed that much more curious now. She seemed to come to a realisation about the creature before her as her senses cleared of some of the delirious effects of the feywine thanks to a little magical assistance, and took a step back, caution now entering her demeanour.

Nianka slides her arm into his with a smile. "I would love to. That is, if your betrothed does not object to me stealing her affianced twice in as many days." She moves towards the dance floor with him."How many peoples does your land have? We, too, are a very diverse nation. Perhaps I should have brought a wider array of servants to demonstrate the full range of our populace but the trolls seemed most appropriate. They do seem to elicit surprise many places. Most seem to assume them to be hostile creatures until they actually meet one."

'Our population is a little hard to pinpoint with any true accuracy, we don't hold a census, and generally leave the Faires and the like to manage themselves.' Sighing he smiled a little, 'In all honesty just getting them to hold still a moment is impossible, they are... flighty creatures much in love with jest.' He smiled 'As for appearance, we do not judge on that, indeed how can we. What you don't see here are the Treants, living trees, although rumours only exist claiming they followed us here. I have yet to see one.' By now his feet moved to the flow of the dance, a slightly formal dance at first it soon loosened up, seeming to be somewhat of a comprimise for those who knew of the Tel'Quessir. It lay between the chaos and abandon of the Silver Elves and the control and restraint of the Gold, free spirited but not random.

Continuing his coversation from where he left off he nodded 'however if we had known your guards to be called Trolls before you arrived, I am afraid things might have been different. A Race known to us as Trolls once held our ancestral home under siege. Fortunatly they are not the same creatures, as proved by their loyalty to you.'

The elf woman smiled, her expression still warm and open despite her inward curiosity. "Yes indeed," she said, "much has been said of my daughter, and many opinions can be found. Dare I ask" she said, "if you yourself have had... a clutch..." her voice seemed that much more curious now. She seemed to come to a realisation about the creature before her as her senses cleared of some of the delirious effects of the feywine thanks to a little magical assistance, and took a step back, caution now entering her demeanour.

A Moment of sadness enters Anghardh's eyes as she shoock her head in sorrow. 'No I have found no Mates, once an age ago I thought I had found one who would have helped me to raise truely glourious young. But he fell into sleep, before I could tell him off my desires.' For a moment a look of purest pride entered her face, 'For he was mighty indeed, he was a legend of our home, to return whenn the need was greatest. As I said our young would have been glourious, since then I have found others lacking.' She shrugged, 'Moths to his flame, Drums to his Thunder' Something anout the way she said Thunder made it sound almost more literal than it sounded, their was an edge to it.

"I see," said the Quendi woman, with far more sympathy and empathy than could be expected of one who had not been in the same situation herself, "go to sleep?" she added, with even more heightened curiosity, growing second by second.

Nianki nodded a little. "Trolls are absolutely unmatched for loyalty. In the entire history of their race, there is not even a single known instance of a troll ever violating their sworn word or their code of honor. Not a single one out of a troll population of roughly three millions." She smiles, dancing with easy elegance, if slightly formal, a little restrained. "We have essentially have ten peoples in the Empire. In any event, there are ten races who, taken together, make up ninety-nine of every hundred citizens. The remainder is truly startling in it's diversity, containing as many as ninety races, all of them numbering only a few. Some of our ancient legends say there were once hundreds of large, flourishing peoples in the Empire but those days are long past, it seems." Her eyes grow sad at this, looking past the king, off into the void of space. After a moment, she shakes herself out of it. "This is not proper talk for such a joyous occassion. I must admit, Your Majesty, you are quite the refined dancer. However, if it would please you, after our dance I would wish to be introduced to some of your other guests."

How much to say was a consideration to the woman, to be truthful she was growing bored of her masquarade, they had passed the test she had them under. While far from perfect the Tel'Quessir on these Isles had not shed away i nher view at least from trying to uphold their values. With that in mind she was perhaps less careful than she might have been especially as this woman seemed to be ignorent, through no fault of her own, of what she spoke of, and it is best to tell mthe truth so as to be caught in no lies.

'Yes Sleep, a Battle had been fought once in an age gone by the Dragons and their Riders, the greatest of that age, had flown out to do battle with the foe, and the survivors where gravely wounded, Circles of High Magi took the Wounded Dragons and bonded riders and placed them into a deep Slumber so as to allow their bodies to heal and their minds to rest until need arose for their survices once more. Understand it was either this or Death.' She shrugged an old hurt she was long past. 'In truth I tell you that time had passed, before we departed Toril the sleepers ahd been awoken and he my hoped for Mate, fought one last battle, when last I saw him, he had flown at the hordes of foul creatures brought forth by the traitor and went down under the press of foes... I assure you it was NOT a wasted death.' Her tone grew icy as through challanging doubt at her words.

Nianki nodded a little. "Trolls are absolutely unmatched for loyalty. In the entire history of their race, there is not even a single known instance of a troll ever violating their sworn word or their code of honor. Not a single one out of a troll population of roughly three millions." She smiles, dancing with easy elegance, if slightly formal, a little restrained. "We have essentially have ten peoples in the Empire. In any event, there are ten races who, taken together, make up ninety-nine of every hundred citizens. The remainder is truly startling in it's diversity, containing as many as ninety races, all of them numbering only a few. Some of our ancient legends say there were once hundreds of large, flourishing peoples in the Empire but those days are long past, it seems." Her eyes grow sad at this, looking past the king, off into the void of space. After a moment, she shakes herself out of it. "This is not proper talk for such a joyous occassion. I must admit, Your Majesty, you are quite the refined dancer. However, if it would please you, after our dance I would wish to be introduced to some of your other guests."

A nod of understanding 'My-Lady I would find that wise, perhaps the Lady Luinthele would be a wise choice, the Quendi are a dominant race of Elves on this world. Besides she seems to be speaking to someone I have long desired to speak to.' With a suddenly serious look in his eyes Githras nodded to himself. 'Quite the enigma is the Lady Anghardh to be the Wealthest woman on the Isles, and by that I mean in all honesty wealthier than myself. Yet before her arrival here I had never heard her name. A Person like that would not have slipped my notice, and so...' As through slowly thinking he smiled a moment 'With your permission you could be of help to me, I need to speak to the Lady Anghardh, without interuption, could you... Distract the Lady Luinthele for me?'

"I see," said Luinthelë, as if by instinct her hand began to dart across her body toward the hilt of izindi agan but she managed to abort that motion even as it began, seeming to be a momentary twitch as she slid her thumb into the belt around her waist, "I understand..." she said, her tone somewhat sympathetic, even though she suspected that this creature was, like all others of its ilk she had ever heard of, an evil killing machine, it had done little ill here so far.

Nianki nods. "So long as we get to finish our dance first." She smiles a little, looking vaguely thoughtful. "Is there anything else you would wish to know about my empire?"

Anghardh had not lived for so long by missing the smallest detail and she chuckled, 'Ah you have deduced my little secret. I tell you in truth Quendi, do not mistake me for what you have known, I would take that as an insult, I am not as the Chromatics, or as the twisted creatures bred by your Morgoth, I am Silver. I am Protector, I also hold you to silence I am not ready yet, soon but not quite, perhaps even tonight.' Her voice was cast Iron, hard, and yet behind it lay an almost gentle kindness, even as she emphasised her words by letting out the smallest hint of her true nature, something it took a strong will to resist.

'Others approach remember your silence Quendi, I shall hold you to it.' Turning to face the approaching King and Nianki the woman simply Bowed low 'My Liege...'

Nianki nods. "So long as we get to finish our dance first." She smiles a little, looking vaguely thoughtful. "Is there anything else you would wish to know about my empire?"

Shaking his head 'Not tonight, after tommorow I shall have a host of questions, do not doubt, but tonight and tommorow, is a time for celebration. I would have you place aside work tonight.'

Even as they danced and Githras was skilled at this, his feat flowed with the tune. As well he should a Bladesinger was not just a warrior they where the eppitomie of Elven culture and life, meant to be as close to Corelion in nature as it where possible for Mortal creatures to be.

After a while the music stops and he leads Nianki towards Luinthele and Anghardh. Bowing towards he two he turns to Luinthele, 'My Lady may I introduce the Grand Duchesses Nianki like yourself a visitor to these Isles.'

Nianki smiles warmly to the elven woman, curtseying graciously. "Nianki ni Gwydion" she corrects gently. "It is an honor to meet you, lady. We have heard a good deal of the Quendi in my homeland but this is the first time it has ever been my privilege to meet one. I must say, if anything, the rumors underestimate your charm and beauty."

Luinthelë smiled, "I am honoured," she said, bowing deeply at the praise, "to be thought of as such by yourself." Her voice was not as warm as it had been when she had arrived, and her manner was now more regal than it had been. "I would be honoured to answer any questions that you may have about my people," she said, "such rumours are often," she paused, thinking, "misleading..."

As the two talked Githras tured and pulled Anghardh gently but rather insistently away and into the Captains quarters once more, here they where joined by one or two others, specifically the Baelnorn circle and the Future queen.

((The room is warded but if people attempt to listen in and find a way here is what is said.))

'We know, it took a while but we know. We pieced the evidence together, Your wealth and the fact we had never heard of you. The Huge Farms you own that deal only in live stock, and never to sell. We Know, Finnaly Mestrain here recalled the name, it has been a while since you last used it has it not?' The questions wher polite but insistent they where still worried after all if a part of what they had deduced was wrong they might have brought something very dangerous into the room with them.

'Yes It has, I should have known not to use the name with the members of your Circle King, still now that you know what will you do?' Her voice was a little questioning and a little worried.
'Nothing, your welcome on these Isles, and as long as you wish it to remain a secret it shall remain one by my decree. I tell you only that I know so that, we understand one another, revered one, and I thank you for blessing us.'

With a Nod the door to the quarters opens once more they exit in small ones and two. As if a signal the Ship begins to lower entering once more the atmosphere heading towards the Sea, and the last part of the evening.

((Okay I am using this thread to wrap up a few things... I could nay keep Githras ignorent of the truth much longer))

Nianki nods, considering carefully. "The elves interest us a fair amount because the ignorant often mistake us for them when first we meet. The difference between our races seems most obvious to my eye and yet not, it seems, to the eyes of many humans. We have heard that you are an ancient race with a great reverence for living things, that you were once great in the ways of magic but now prefer technology, that you are divided into three nations, and there ends our knowledge. If I must make a specific inquiry, I would ask what separates the Quendi line from that of the Tel'Quessir? And I, of course, would be more than willing to answer any questions about my own people."

((This is after any conversations end etc. I just don't know if I will be on Sunday or not and want to get this bit started))

As the Ship settles onto the sea, eyes turn expectantly back towards the Isles, as a few of the High Magi present and therefore in the know waited. The announcer from before speaks loudly for those not so informed. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, The High Magi of Giltheran have prepared something special, if you would care to turn your attention to back towards the Shore.’

As he finishes a small charm is cast by one of the guests, and a from his hands a spark of light reaches up into the night sky, a signal of some sort. Then before the assembled guests the Sea takes on the form of Moor lands, wild scrubs and bushes, a trick of light but also of sound, everything seems of course far larger than life, partly so it can be made out, and yet it seems out of scale also. As the sky around them seems to darken, another slight illusion a figure larger even than the Guardian can be made out as if a great distance ay striding purposefully towards the guests. As it nears it can be seen that it is Tel’Quessir, by its side is a scabbard holding a Long sword who’s Hilt appears to hint at a truly wondrous blade. He shines with an inner light, and appears to the watchers to be truly a Noble being. Yet the scabbard holding the blade by his side shines with a dark and foul presence, and now the viewers are ‘blessed’ with odors, from the man comes the smell of Jasmine, and Roses, blessed scents that remind one of the beauty of the world around them, yet from the Scabbard comes the scent of something dark, something that breeds underground, something inhuman, something evil.

As the Tel’Quessir looks upon the figure and the scene and comprehend it all they seem to gasp and then a collective smile appears on all their faces a look of collective joy. The Figure passes and now something else can be seen, a large brutal creature, huge Tusks appear to grow from its face, it bares rust covered weapons badly kept and yet functional. The first Figure approaches the creature now and stands before it, without warning the Brute strikes bringing an axe down hard, upon the head of the Elf lord, yet seemingly impossibly the Axe is blocked by the rapidly drawn Long sword…

CRACK the First noise to break the night from the Illusion, the Long sword is smashed, broken into a thousand pieces and scattered to the winds across the Moors…. A Look of shock can be seen on the faces of both combatants as the Elf realizes he is unarmed and turns to run pursued by his foe across the moors….

At some point the Scabbard is lost torn away on a bush and left behind, as the two combatants exit, a beam of light from the moon shines back down onto where the fight started, a woman appears, gathering the pieces of the blade together she stares a moment at the Scabbard and a look of understanding crosses her face, and horror at what it means, then she is gone…

Nianki watches the display with a smile, her wide eyes showing that the Grand Duchess is quite impressed.

The Show continues turning once more to the original two characters the Elf is running now, and seems to have gained a lead but he is tiring and ever behind him the Monster approaches, it seems almost impossible for the Elf to escape and even through the Tel’Quessir know the end of the Tale it pulls at them they seem to hold their breathes, in fear. Eventually through the Moon shines once more and the Woman from before appears once more before what is clearly her Lord as she gets down on one, knee the Blade from before has been reformed although the Scabbard is now gone. She hands the blade to her liege and departs once more…

Now the Elf turns towards his foe and smiles, Sword in hand he charges. What follows is a dual the Monsters Style emphasizes Strength over form, and he bashes away at the Elf, who dances out of range twirls around his opponent constantly staying out of range, or nicking away at his foe. Small cuts soon dot the creature and now the battle focused the Sword raised upwards and pierced the Monsters eye, as it was withdrawn there is a sickening POP and the Eye Ball is removed along with the Blade and the creature falls to the ground.

The Victor stands above the form of his defeated but still living foe, and turns to walk away, refusing to slay the creature as it cannot fight back. At this point the Scene changes, and now it is a Forest before the assembled watchers is another woman, another Elf, and the first figure approaches the woman now limping from his fight. As he nears the Woman he hugs her in clear love, and yet the look on this his companion is one of hate and plotting, for the first time the scent reaches the watchers and it carries the same smell as the Scabbard…

Things have got complicated it seems…

Nianki folds her hands in front of her lap, tilting her head slightly at the spectacle. She turns her head to the king and then to the elven woman she was speaking to, asking a quiet question. "Are you familiar with this tale, m'lady?"

"There are a number of elf states actually," Luin said, "first do most name Menelmacar, the realm of Elentári Sirithil, High Queen of the Elves, next, Aelosia, largely ruled by a different sub-type of Quendi, the Sindar, under a queen who bears the same name as her nation. Followed by the Avari of Bajon, and Taurenor, another Noldorin state that recently appeared. Last do all name the Thelasi, the sauriquendi," she practically spat the word, "the abhorrent elves. With any luck they shan't be here. Other Quendi of various types exist in other lands, such as my own. There are also other races that are very much like the Quendi, such as the Necrontyr, the Keigh of Tor Yvresse, and the Tel'Quessir of Giltheran, whom many tend to consider part of the same race, and whom we often feel some kinship with.

"Anyway, the parallels between the Quendi and the Tel'Quessir are interesting, yes, they are similar in a number of ways," she said, not maliciously, but with a certain honesty, "Though, they're not immortal, they can suffer illness, and they're somewhat shorter than we are. As for once being great in what you would call magic, it's not true that the quendi no longer practice such things. In comparison to the Tel'Quessir, we lack mastery of some aspects of magic, such as the conjuration of otherworldly creatures and the communion with the dead, in large part because the Valar advised us against the persuit of such things. However, in what they would call the "school of enchantment" we are quite capable of mastery that rivals the heights of their own achievements, and many feats of divination and 'abjuration' as well. To be honest, our powers are not as faded as many would consider," she said, "as much as the source of our strength has shifted to technology - though to be fair the distinction between technology and Art is largely an artificial one." As she said this she slowly drew izindi agan from the scabbard at her hip, the Númenórean long sword ringing slightly from the action, "This sword for example, is a work of technology, admittedly ancient iron working, but still, technology. The fact that its construction and careful maintenance over the centuries makes it have properties that a lesser weapon would not have, does not make it any less technological." The mithril traceries of the weapon shone briefly in the moonlight as she re-sheathed it.

"In direct answer to your question, we are not, amazingly, related to the Tel'Quessir at all. We are as different from them as we are from humans. One of the many oddities of this existence. Many races appear to share some common characteristics, especially culturally, despite having entirely separate origins and histories."

Luinthelë watched the figures fight, "Yes," she said, possessed of considerable wisdom and lore as she was, she knew the answer, "this is the creation story of the Tel'Quessir. The elven figure is the leader of their gods, the Seldarine, Corellon Larethian. This is a battle fought by him against the orc," she didn't seem to like the word, "diety Gruumsh the one eye'd. His blood from this battle they claim was mixed with the tears of their moon goddess," she thought for a moment, and the name rose from memory as if at her bidding, "Sehanine to create them."

Nianki starts when Luinthele mentions iron working, taking a sudden step back. Looking at the sword more closely, especially noting the mithril worked into it, her stance relaxes. It is not a true cold iron blade. She looks to the Quendi with a half-apologetic expression, one she does not explain.

She nods a little at the Elf's comments on the elven nations. "It must be a rather pleasant thing to have so many nations of your people. I have not heard of any sidhe outside the Empire and even there we are but one in each hundred. One and one half millions might sound like a great number, but not for the entire population of a race in this world."

Nianki shrugs lightly. "What we have observed of technology and of magic in some realms leads us to a somewhat different interpretation. There are certain places in the Resurgent Dream where technology such as even a steam engine or a flintlock would not work, yet a gun would. These same regions alter all magic other than that of the fae in ways its users cannot predict and increase the power of our own magics, sometimes to a poor end. Despite such dangers, these are precious places to us, the heart of our nation, and increasingly rare, fading."

The grand duchess turned her gaze back to the fight, nodding a little. "It seems many cultures speak of a war between the gods in earlier times. Ours is known as the War of Trees, though the gods commanded armies of fairykind, rather than fight alone."

"One million five hundred thousand doesn't seem that much, no," she said, somewhat curiously, after all, even the necrontyr were more common. "I have however," she said, "heard reference to the Sidhe before. From the now defunct nation of 'Whispering Voices,'" she added, by way of explanation. "To be honest, I am only dimly aware of such things," she added, "for that nation was fanatical in its security and secrecy, and would rarely tolerate outsiders visiting."

She nodded at Nianki's comments about the battle, but said nothing about the history and beliefs of her own race.

((Gah not sure how often I will be on for the next few days, will try and make it every day but... The net is coming to my comp soon. Till Then Uni Comps))

IC

Angardh by this time had made her way back over and smiled a little, 'I heard your explanation but I felt a little clarification was in order, this was a Parlay the tale says, not a arranged fight. Corelian had came seeking an end to the War with the Orcish God's, and had sworn to hold from using his Magic. Hence his fleeing, indeed honour would have prevented him from accepting his returned blade, had it been the work of Grumash to break it...' Smiling a little she turned back to the display...

'Ahh I see the story has advanced a little, understand at this point Sehenine has been trapped by the Traitor, one of Corelian's Children, plotted with Corelians wife to seize control of the Seldarine...'

as she spoke now many Beings obviously Gods stood arrayed for Battle in the woods that the scene had shifted to before. Creatures of many varied forms stood ready to defend their homes, as towards them approached an army of Evil Gods, and the Battle was joined...

it shifts back and forth, often seeming more the ancient wars of Old one combatent against one, but a few of the Seldarine operate as a team, as too a few of the Anti-Seldarine, at one point by Corelians side a fairy Prince is ran through by a rusty blade, the God turns and rips the Fallen Ally away, an action that would appear insane, certainly dooming the fallen ally. However perhaps to the Nianki it would make sense as the blade the Fairy God had been impaled upon had been Cold iron, and far more deadly to it than the wound it now suffered.

Eventually the forces of the Seldarine seem to win out, at the last moment a woman much like her Father in appearance, Corelians daughter fires a bow, the arrow twisting in the air to hit her Father, and Corelian falls, close to Death.

For a Time the shocked seldarine stands gathered around their liege, unable to heal him, and unable to punish the guilty goddess when the Moon shines once upon the fallen form of Corelian and Sehenie reappears freed from her Prison. Her appearance is of one shattered her heart lieing near death before her, but she knows the true guilty person and as she turns to face the former Wife of Corelian two other Goddess stand forward, from the three rises a thin mist eventually it joins to form a single being...

Approaching the fallen king they bow to him, and awaken him... Then the display is over, for the events that followed have no place in a celebration, no need to remember the being that was to ebcome Lloth's punishment, the tale had reached it's conclusion, the birth of Corelians true Consort his true love, had been achieved, the Silver to the Gold of the Lord of the Seldarine.

((I was going to do more, but this took longer than I thought so... I won't, I shall endevor to post again tommorow. Hopefully start the actual Wedding.;) ))

Nianki shrugs. "Some say it is wiser to view all the fae as one race, which would place our number at thirty million. The sidhe should be counted merely as the nobles of such a race, which makes are numbers somewhat large. However, this is rather counterintuitive. I resemble you, my lady, far more than I do any of the common kith in form and mannerism. But perhaps you might share what you do know of this Whispering Voices, defunct as it may be."

The grand duchess curtseys as Angardh joins them. "I do not believe I have had the honor, m'lady. I am Grand Duchess Nianki ni Gwydion. I am curious about the orcs who worship this Gruumsh. I have never encountered their race before, though the seem somewhat akin to redcaps, if only vaguely. I take it that they are, or at least were, enemies of your people, for your very gods to war."

Nodding a moment she gives a very slight curtsy in greetings, 'I am Anghardh, and indeed these Orcs so far have not followed us, although Orcs seem to exist here on this world and are as evil as the ones we left behind, as I am sure the good Luinthele here will agree.' Thinking a moment how best to describe the War between the Gods at this point.

'Yes the Orcs left behind where ancient foes to the Tel'Quessir, their God commands them to do but one thing, to go forth and Conquor, you have heard the saying Might makes right, the Orcs have no word for right, to them the saying is simply Might. They are... evil to the core.'

'Of course the legends also say at this point all the God's shared one plane of existence making such wars more common, today they are in a Cold War... But then today there are Mortal children to care for, to protect, or too have kill and maim.' She shrugged, 'However you make one mistake, child, these are not my God's I am different to those you see around you. My God is Paladine the Platnium Father to the Metalic he was not there, believe me you could not miss his repersentative image. Although he certainly would have been had he been aware of the fight before it began.'

strangely calling Nianki a Child was no insult coming from her mouth it carried a sense of weight, a sense of a being calling someone younger than her Child simply because in her eyes the gap in years made it so. 'I have a question for you, my lady Nianki, what do you think, I have a choice here tonight, for a while I have kept a secret, would it be do you think stealing the lime light to reveal that secret here?'

Ageless eyes stare at the dragon blankly. However naturally she might say it, the word could hardly sound natural to the ears of any sidhe, much less a lady of the falcon. The undying rage that is the curse of all Gwydion, eternally boiling just below the surface, started to burn. Nianki new that if she succumbed to her wrathful pride, she would no longer be able to tell friend from foe, invincibly power dragons from helpless servants. She would simply attack until she was dead or until everyone else was. But she would NOT let herself succumb today. She told herself that Anghard must merely have confused her for an elf. It had happened before. That Anghard considered herself so much more ancient than elves did not pique her curiosity at the moment. Fighting down the blood rage of her ancestors was taking ever bit of her will. Deep, brown eyes that looked...not quite older...but simply beyond time itself turned a flaming yellow and her visage took on the full countenance of a furious sidhe. There is something about an angry sidhe which causes all but the strongest willed among humans to fear, especially a sidhe of Nianki's rank. Of course, a dragon is likely made of sterner stuff but the effect is still...noticeable. Muscled forearms tensed. Pulling her self back from the brink, Nianki offered a simple, curt "Excuse me." Turning, she moved away from the window, towards the facilities.

Luinthelë shook her head a little, “I pity uruks,” she said, “they’re really not any more responsible for what they do than an arrow as it flies from a bow,” she explained calmly, “of all, they loathe the Dark Lord the most, and they have the greatest cause, and yet no choice in the matter. In the end, I feel, their part may not be wholly evil.”

Luin watched the Sidhe’s emotions flare with interest She watched the fey storm off, and looked over at Anghardh with a little surprise, “I think,” she said, “you’ve managed to offend her…”

***

More on Izindi Agan it is not what you would call cold iron, but definitely iron age in workmanship, though rather sophisticated at that, the other metals on it, largely silver and ‘truesilver’ take the form of a thin coating over the edge of the blade. It also has the property of glowing around the edges when orcs are nearby, like a rather familiar set of swords from Lord of the Rings. As well as that, it does have the property of causing something of a fear effect to the lesser breeds of such creatures such as those seen in Moria. Just in case anyone was wondering.

((Fair enough Edit removed... Will return it later))

((Skipping ahead is really something for when things are peaceful and going as planned. We were in the middle of an altercation.))

anghardh simply shrugged 'if I gave offense to the grand Duchess so be it. I am not overly concerned.' It sounded a little harsh and anghardh shrugged a moment 'Perhaps it was unwise of me to come, I find you humonids so... quick to act, and so sure of yourselves.'

Looking around a moment she moved to follow the duchess, 'If I gave offense then I apologise, little one.' at the moment in fact it was Anghardh who was looking up at Nianki, but such things are a matter of perspective after all, and since Anghardh did not view this shell as her real form, it's size was not her real size. Being infinity old and wise, does not neccersary make one understand social graces, and for a Dragon it was even harder, these where not her ways. Her ways where simple, she would claim a territory and all within it was hers and her Mates, and their Hatchlings, a challanger would be slain, the flock cared for. In her case the Flock had it's own Liege and she served that King, but she was seperate from him, accepting of his title, and respectful of it, but not bound by his crown.

More than this, her kind did not grow insulted at such things, indeed, she still could not fathom how it was a insult, to her it was a statment of fact, even the Baelnorns she would in all honesty call Children, although one or two of them may have existed longer... She was Dragon, a Child of Paladine, one of the Old Masters of her World.

'Understand however that I only know of five beings on all of Giltheran that can claim to have existed longer than I, and their claims are... debatable, I have felt the soring winds beneath my wings when Myth Drannor still stood, I have fought and slain the Chromatics for several Ages now, I am... Old my dear. Old even for my Kind, Old even for the Kings of the skys, the Masters of the Wind...' she shrugged if that was not enough to make this woman understand she would only have choice to make things clear.

Nianki nods slightly. "I cannot give you an age for myself or for my people. Our origins are lost in our mostly forgotten homeland. We are almost universally considered the oldest race in the Resurgent Dream and our religious scholars normally list us as the oldest in the world, save for the gods. Most of our explorers disagree on the last point. Our dragons are old but...not such as to stand comparison. Nonetheless, when we came into the world is not considered a measure of age. I have spent moments where the rest of the world ages a thousand years and lives a millenium when but seconds pass to others. I am mournfully nostalgic for breakfast and casually remember battles from before mankind yet knew the use of fire as though they were but a fleeting instant past, before the first dragons...the first, at least, of our dragons...were hatched. We are...this is not quite accurate but it is the only way I know to put it...we are not of time. We are born ancient as the stars in the heavens and die as young as a fresh spring rain. It is the insinuation of age, at all, that is simply not done, though we do have phases of life with their own specific terminology. But do not worry, lady, you gave no offense." No one who saw her five minutes ago could believe the last statement, of course. But she doesn't speak it as a lie, nor as a pleasantry. She speaks it with the passionate conviction that comes with a denial tha runs as strongly in her blood as her rage, a denial which House Gwydion, the eldest house in the eldest (well, in truth, the eldest save one for all the posturing) race of fairy, had told itself countless times since Lord Gwydion himself stood before the gods and accepted his charge in an age before history began.

The man had idly started to eat from the table, although quite slowly, whilst listening to the conversations of others. Not because he was overly interested in them, no, but because he had not much else to do. Boredom can drive a man to many things, just as any other feeling can. Funny, how beings who claim to be so old can be so quick to lose their temper. Maybe neverending life makes one overly arrogant... Who knows. But that is important knowledge nonetheless.

His living state apparently made the locals unaware of his origins. This had been proven several times before as well, but not this close to so many different beings. Apparently the living Elders of the Dusk did not differ that much from those who had never died. They did not feel all that different, either, or at least so they thought. It wasn't like they remembered much of their lives, anyway.

The woman smiled and nodded, 'Perhaps I spoke then in hast and misjudged your age it is a rare privalage to meet something... unexpected and new, I thank you for such a gift. You have taught me something... a Rare gift indeed.' A Slight chuckle escaped her lips almost a growl in it's essence then she bowed a little lower than before.

((OOC Bah a pathetic post I know better shall come tommorow, I have to go now...))

Nianki smiles and laughs lightly. "Honestly, it is not a problem. It is an honor to meet you as well."

Luinthelë clapped loudly, walking over to Githras and smiling in a companionable manner, now that everyone seemed to have calmed somewhat, “So,” she asked, “will there be an actual ceremony per se or something more informal?”

She smiled amicably and waited for an answer, “And if you will excuse me, I wouldn’t mind speaking very much to fiancée again,” she added with a smile, bowing and turning toward Alataire. She smiled a little at the silver elf, “Hello again,” she said, plucking another glass of one of the terrifically inebriating local beverages from the tray of a passing servant, “I didn’t have time to ask you before, but I sensed a certain… anxiety in you…” she smiled disarmingly as she inquired about that…

(BEHOLD! THREAD NECROMANCY!)

((Behold I shall finish this thread behold my evil thread Necromancy))

Nodding to Luinthelë he smiled a little, 'A Mix of both to be honest, we start Formal but that does not last, a few Oaths are exchanged, but well I don't need to explain I am sure that Elvish marriages are, unusual, we don't promise not to take other lovers for example, as I am given to understand is common amongest the shorter lived races. As it is we promise our Souls to each other, then the union is blessed and, well then the informality begins.' He chuckled a moment at the thought, 'after all is not marriage a joyous occasion?'

Nodding a moment she appeared to think before answering. 'I have a choice tonight, tommorow, this could very easily turn into a funneral tommorow, It is up to the will of the Seldarine, but I will be his equal, or I will not marry him.' He look and tone was one of sheer determination before a wistful smile broke across her face, 'actually I don't think Githras would have it any other way, he does not want a mere Consort, he wants a Queen.'

“Joyous indeed,” she said, a little amused at the wilfully carefree manner of the locals.

Luinthelë took the other woman’s eye with her own for a moment, and held it for a moment, after a moment she smiled, and patted Alataire on the shoulder, “I shouldn’t worry about that,” she said, “I feel that you’ll be fine.”

The rest of the evening passed rather quietly if drunkenly, how many of the Guests where going to be able to stand the next day might come across as a mystery to the visitor's. As the Sun rose the next morning through the Palace was filled with the noise of the stiring guests, and if one listened carefully strangely the occasional prayer, an hour or so after Dawn each of the foreign dignatorys recieved a polite knock on the door. Through the closed door each guest recieved pretty much the same message.

'My Lady/Lord, King Githras sends his greeting and his offer of, aid in preparing for the day. Also my ladies he requests that you join the others in the Council chamber for the crowning of the Lady Alataire Leuthilspar'

If any of the guests take the offered aid, the messenger is revealed to be a Cleric of one of the many god's that make up the Seldarine, after a short prayer the effects of the night before is purged from the system, clensing the body of the guest from the ill effects of the strong drinks the night before.

As the day progresses the Council chamber Doors are guarded by stern faced guards, bags under their eyes show that they too last where celebrating but they appear alert. Their armour reflects the light and appears to be made of a fine silver like metal. As the guests approach they stand aside allowing them into the Chambers themselves, before them sits Githras on the Throne of Giltheran on his lap rests the Moonblade, symbol of his rulership, behind him stand two more guards, although a closer look would reveal to observent eyes that these where guests last night. Githras face appears far sterner than any could recall seeing him appear before, as the final guest enters he rises to observe the room and nods.

'In an age long gone the Seldarine revealed to our people the crafting of the Moonblades and placed upon them a terrible burden, Death to those not worthy of them. This blade is the symbol of rulership, no one may rule Giltheran that the blade see's as unworthy Lady Alataire Matriarch of the House Leuthilspar comes before you today seeking to be Queen. To do so, she must prove her worth. Drawing the moonblade he places it on the table before him and nods.' Turning to the furthest entrance he addresses the guards there 'Bring the supplicent in.'

Nianki rose early, before the knock to wake her. She had not had too much to drink at the party last night. After washing up, she dressed in a gossamer (yes, literally), gown of light green with shining golden lining. Smiling lightly to herself, the Grand Duchess moved gracefully down to the Council Chamber, inclining her head to the guards as she entered.

Nianki walked in and curtsies deeply to the King before stepping back. She didn't say or do anything for the moment. She was rather unfamiliar with this ceremony. Respectfully, she remained alert and attentive, watching what the Tel'Quessir did. Despite the incident with the dragon the previous night, Nianki was rapidly becoming convinced that this race of elves was a people with whom hers could be friends.

As Alaitaire enters the assembled Tel-Quessier fall silent, she bears herself very diferently than from the night before, walking with a purpose. At the moment her clothing is simple, her appearance very much that of her normal day to day clothing. Her smile dosn't reach her eyes, and appears false, to any watching she appears, afraid. Yet she walks towards the Throne and the Blade.

'The ancient laws of the Moonblade stand, remember them well, none may be forced to claim a Moonblade, and no dishonour upon those who refuse. Those who fail, shall not be dishonoured in death, for none know for what the Blades seek.' Githras voice carries easierly across the silence and the Assembled Elves nod slowly watching in silence. Facing now Alaitaire Githras looks upon her. 'Understanding these rules, do you accept still the test, do you accept the burden of safeguarding the Moonblade, and do you accept the greater burden of safeguarding our people?'

Alaitaire pauses a moment as if in consideration a thousend thoughts race through her mind in those moments, yet in truth she had already decided her course. 'I do' was the simple clear answer.

'Then claim the Blade, take it in your hands, and the truth of your soul shall be judged by the Seldarine, and be revealed to us all.' As githras spoke his eyes closed a fraction, he knew he must watch what happened next but a small part of him dreaded it.

Alaitaire's hand reached forward closing over the Blade before her, and slowly lifting it from the table, beads of persperation dripping down her face even as she did so...

As it left the Table still borne in her hands the smile on the face slowly entered her eyes and with a final movement it was held fully in her hands. The sound of Thunderous approval broke across the room 'Do any question the judgement of the Blade? Then I decleare this moment forward that we have our Queen'

Even as Githras spoke behond him the Baelnorn Circle mumbled between themselves, and with a sound of thunder the old throne was split asunder from it arose two, side by side, so that it was impossible to tell which had been the original. Finally a cry came fromthe mouths of the assembled Elves.

'Long live the Queen!'

With a bow to the assembled guests Githras smiled now truely as he took Alaitaires hand in his own guiding her towards her new throne and then took his own looking out across the room he smiled once again 'My friends it is done... We have a few hours before the wedding begins, let us talk of simpler things till then.'

As he speaks the doors open again and refreshments are brought in by servents simple juices and warm drinks, a few small snacks, breakfast was served.

Will a communist representative be admitted for the festivities?