RP MEME: MEDIEVAL TIMES

[cerebel]

Pick a scenario, post with your character and roll for the scene. Or just pick. That's cool too.

For the setting:

1) CASTLE. Throne rooms, private chambers, long hallways.
2) TAVERN. Rough-hewn tables, rough-hewn clientele.
3) DUNGEONS. Iron bars, rusty chains, and terrible food.
4) JOUST. The knights of the realm are battling.
5) FIELDS. It's a hard, long day working to grow food.
6) MARKET. There's a well, there are some craftsmen selling things. It's a medieval mall.

And once you've decided the setting, decide your role:

1) ROYALTY. You are a King, Queen, Prince, Princess or close relative.
2) KNIGHT. You are a warrior of the realm.
3) WITCH/WIZARD. Official court magician? Crazy old lady with a lot of herbs? You decide.
4) PEASANT. Yeah, your life sucks.
5) CRAFTSMAN. Blacksmith, woodworker. Apprentice or master is up to you.
6) SERVANT. Your life is utterly devoted to the one you serve.
BONUS: 7) TIME TRAVELER. ???

Comments

[i_id]

[It follows, blind and awkward, but balks at the litter, outstretched hand finding its frame.]

No!

[Hastily, it pulls the blindfold off, twitching away from his hand, but... when its vision recovers from the sudden light, as well as it can, it doesn't see the cage that it half-expected. Curtains, not bars. It stops, looking between it and the Prince.]

[wantsdragonspls]

[Lance stills, holding up another hand at the instinctive forward-rush of his guards in response. He doesn't move, staring into the creature's eyes and not fumbling in the slightest about which ones he should be staring into.]

Replace the blindfold.

[An order, but a mild one compared to the ones he gave to his human subjects.]

You cannot walk the distance with that wound.

[And the stitches need to be removed before he can heal it. He can't do that there.]

[i_id]

[It twists the broad cloth piece in its long-fingered hands, arms drawn tight against its sides in nervousness.]

I... can leave.

[The sentence is put together haltingly. He's only been learning this tongue a few weeks.]

[wantsdragonspls]

You'll go nowhere with that wound.

[He puts a hand on the creature's nearest elbow, half-steadying and half to guide him pointedly toward the litter.]

In. I cannot heal you without first removing that thread, and I cannot do that here.

[i_id]

[Reluctantly, it ducks into the litter. Curling up small within, it manages not to take up all of the space, nor to be too close to any of the curtains.]

Then leave?

[wantsdragonspls]

If you wish.

[A guard clears his throat gently.]

First we negotiate.

[It would be a nuisance to have his subjects vanishing into the woods.]

[i_id]

[It cocked its head at him, still not having covered its eyes again.]

Negotiate?

[Sorry, not a word it knows, and it stumbles over the pronunciation.]

[wantsdragonspls]

We must talk before you leave.

[There's not enough room on the litter for Lance without squishing close to the creature, and he doesn't want to scare it. He chooses to untie the curtains instead, moving to the side where the sun wouldn't beam in, so that he could leave those open and not blind his guest.

[Then he nodded to the litter-carriers, and carefully they picked it up, moving toward the castle.]

[i_id]

[It dug nervous claws into the pillows, jaws tensing and relaxing alternately as it watched him with a certain amount of nervousness. He was right - it couldn't run, not with the half-healed wound the way it was. And surrounded by his litter-bearers and guards now, it could tell it had barely more of a chance of escape than it had had while in chains. He craned forward to look ahead, but it was too bright out, driving him back into the depths blinking furiously.]

[wantsdragonspls]

[Lance kept pace with one hand on the litter.]

What do your kind call yourselves?

[i_id]

[It braced itself against the motion of the litter, one hand pressed against the canopy, and watched him.]

Grue. Some.

[At the second word, it touched a hand to its chest in a graceful gesture, the fingertips making a soft, hollow sound against the breastbone.]

[wantsdragonspls]

Your people are called grue? And you are Some?

[He touches his own chest.]

Wataru. The Prince Dragon.

[i_id]

[It repeats his name quietly, with only the lower mouth.]

Duke said, you are Lord?

[wantsdragonspls]

I rule this kingdom, yes.

[i_id]

Kingdom means what?

[wantsdragonspls]

It means that this land and these people, and everything within the borders of my territory, belong to me.

[i_id]

[It took a moment, considering this.]

All the... surface.

[wantsdragonspls]

There are mines. They belong to me as well.

[i_id]

Under is grues.

[wantsdragonspls]

If grues are under my land, you are my subjects.

[i_id]

[It stared at him, then snorted, shaking its head and looking away.]

No.

[wantsdragonspls]

I have no desire to rule you the same way I do my surface subjects. But we need to talk.

[It wasn't human, so he wasn't insulted at the outright rejection.]

[i_id]

Have a lord. First.

[The last word was in its own language, a definitive sound.]

[wantsdragonspls]

[A dismissive wave.]

The fool who caught you is a lord. I have many of them.

[i_id]

[It turned back towards him, the black gaze narrowed.]

You not our First.