Welcome to Swords of Speirling. We are an original fantasy site, set in a fictional world divided into seven kingdoms. We are set in the Medieval-ish/Renaissance period of this world. We have 20+ playable races available, we have no word count, and we are rated mature. Our application process is simple and to-the-point and we are LGBTQ+ friendly, straight-/cisgendered-ally friendly, and ALL racial identities-friendly. We do believe in some order, but we don't take ourselves all that seriously. Jerks need not apply. It is currently WINTER.
We are currently searching for royal family members and military characters, particularly knights.
Felix just shook his head sighing. He should have stayed in Gaothaidh. But no, he had to come out to this silly event. How he missed his underground labs and science. This whole display was vulgar and grotesque, and he had created some true monsters in his time. The king remained perched in his spot, almost as though he was posing for a portrait. His hair flowed when a light breeze ran through his hair. Yes, he did look fabulous.
He slowly turned to look at Rhodri. It appeared Gaothaidh was allowed to pick now. He remained like a statue where he stood. If Teumnach was allowed to mess up the order of things, then he most certainly was going to screw with things himself.
“Ah, it seems I’ve a twist in my back! Raven, dear, would you go pick out the third jewel for me,” he replied, pretending to have a pain in his back. In actuality, he just wanted to stick it to Teumnach for choosing them third. Not that he even really cared about the jewels, he didn’t. He just didn’t like being chosen behind a lowly human.
So the King remained standing straight, with his hands outreached, back completely straight like some sort of beautiful statue.
The look of disgust could not be masked from Raven’s face. She looked like she had just inhaled the most foul smelling thing in all of Speirling, possibly the world. Her mouth was clasped together and her lips furled into a deep frown. The Galleians?! Human barbarians! Unlike her husband, Raven had been listening to her birds throughout Speirling. There were rumors about Rhiannon and one of the human foreigners, but she didn’t believe Arandur would allow his crown-princess to marry, let alone, cohort with lowly humans.
“Dear prince, perhaps this is something your father should be doing. Or perhaps your mother…” Raven replied to the prince. Well, another person to be added to her crap-list. Perhaps she could marry Raina off to him. It seemed like a marriage that would be made in hell.
She continued to look daggers at Rhodri, when her husband announced he had a sudden back injury. Raven wasn’t about to fourth choice for third place!
“Oh, my love. My gown was just made yesterday, I cannot risk blood getting on it. Talon! My ice knight, please fetch me the jewel the king desires,” Raven called to her Ice knight, who loomed over the crowd.
I was always just the Queen. My sister is the one that added Heartless to my title.
Orin had been watching her son and daughter, when her Queen called to her. Immediately, she snapped into action. Any chaos that was around her was immediately halted when the ice knight began to step through the crowd. People stared up and parted as though the King himself had been walking to receive the jewel.
The ice knight took the jewel that was invincibility. It was the one she knew her Queen would desire the most. As for Felix, she hadn’t a clue what that man wanted. Probably the same thing. The Ice Knight walked the Jewel to her Queen, placed it gently within her hand and then stood behind the Queen again. But not for a moment taking her eyes off her two children. Not that anyone could see beneath her icy, armored prison.
Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win
He returned to her side finally. Knowing very well the questions she asked of him. He didn't want to answer at the moment. At the moment, there was too much tension in the air to let himself get away with that kind of talk. He did enjoy being at her side whenever the time would come about, but that was besides the point. The words spilled by the monarchs of Gaothaidh. "Later, I'll tell you," He whispered as he watched them with the third pick to go up.
They looked down on him. Not for his position. But the fact that he was human. The fact that this land considers Galleians barbarians. He could let out a stream of curses if he wanted to. A quick education of manners would do them well. Mind, the Galleians probably are seen as barbaric with some of their cultural practices. Human sacrifice... mind, these fae probably wouldn't mind that. Along with the blood eagle method of execution. Mind, he could also assert that Foirfich is just as if not more barbaric. Regional genocide, as they have exterminated at least one million Galleians in their efforts to conquer the land.
He watched as the King complained about his back, despite looking completely fine. He watched as he turned to what Brennus could only assume to be his wife. He listened to her words eventually as she asserted that she'd rather not get her clothes bloodied over the stag. A scoff escaped Brennus lips and before long, he let his eyes upon the "Ice Knight". He wondered if the knight was there on her own terms or if the knight was enslaved as a sell sword for their family.
"General," Someone spoke up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see one of the Chosen Warriors. An Aktavvii Galleian by the name of Argiotalvs. Brennus discovered that the Southern Galleians in Aktau use the V as a U, early on upon arriving there.
"Yes, Talvs?" He asked the man. Argiotalvs was dressed wearing a knee lengthed gambeson with a mail shirt, and plate mail. It was obvious that at some point he must've bee a Palace Guard. With an oval shield and a pointed helmet that had chainmail covering his lower face and a Tanukhid scarf wrapped around his head, at his side he also had a shorter gladius style sword.
"We've found a cohort of Praetorian Legionaries. They were the ones who ambushed Cunorix and Katumaros thinking they got us all. What do you think we should do?"
"Rally the others and bring them here. If we're questioned by the size-able force, we can just use the excuse that the forest is full of dangers, enough that there is never too much protection," Brennus asserted to the man.
Argiotalvs odded and went back into the forest. Before long he returned with at least ten other Chosen. Most from Aktav but some were North Galleia- wearing chainmail, and their faces painted in blue.
She was beginning to feel an odd sense of drunken euphoria. It wasn't brought on by anything with an alcoholic content, but rather a mixture of light-headedness from over exerting her healing magic and her vampiric thirst for blood. She had never been subjected to both situations at once before. Khalidah may be able to laugh about it sometime in the distant future, but at that current moment it was making it very hard to focus on what she was doing.
Her vision was starting to become a little hazy, and her feet felt unsteady. Gods, don't tell me I'm going to faint because of this. The thought crossed her mind, but her brain felt sluggish in the process. Was it starting to become hard to even think? "Is it all out?" “Huh?” the response that fell from her lips sounded as if she was merely distracted by the healing attentions that she was bestowing upon the wounded man, while in fact it was simply a noise that allowed her brain to catch up and for the question to register.
Oh, he was asking about the arrow that she had removed. Glancing down by her feet at the discarded arrow, Khalidah quickly double checked to see if the head of the arrow was still attached to the shaft. She was relieved to find that the arrow head was still attached to the rest of the projectile. “Yes, the arrow is all out”. There was no need to remove the silk fabric that had been turned into bandages and fish out the arrow head.
Feeling Jon pulling the rags from the wound, Khalidah lifted her hands clear of the wound, giving him enough room to pour both the myrrh oil and the honey over the top. Khalidah knew from experience that honey could stimulate growth of granulation tissue, allowing wounds to heal faster. It also helps remove decaying tissue from open wounds if bandages were changed frequently enough, preventing further infection from bacteria. It also helped that it provided at least some form of a seal to stem further blood loss.
Speaking of the blood, the smell of it was finally becoming too much to handle that the healer made had to step away quickly, wiping her hands on the fabric of her trousers. “I apologise for what you are both about to see...” Khalidah commented, finally lifting her gaze to both their faces so that they could see that her eyes were bright red in colour and the fangs that were poking out from beneath her top lip. She didn't given them long to look though before she quite deliberately bit down onto her own forearm.
The pain was excruciating, but she needed to endure it. It was necessary. Blood flowed from her own veins into her mouth... satisfying her vampiric tendencies to say the least, but at a cost of injuring herself. It was a few minutes before she was able to extract her fangs from her forearm, tearing off one sleeve from her blouse before wrapping it around her self-inflicted wound as a makeshift bandage. “I'm half vampire”, Khalidah explained to Artemis as she tied the finishing knot. “And biting my patients is really bad for business”. A wave of dizziness washed over her brain at that point, sending her collapsing to her knees on the floor. Looks like I really overdid it this time, Khalidah thought privately as she lifted a hand to her face.
Another deep breath steadied the prince's mind as both the King and Queen consort of Gaothaidh made their excuses of why neither one of them were able to select their jewel, electing the Ice Knight 'Talon' to choose in their stead. Though the fae prince said naught a word, the thought that he should have called them last did indeed cross his mind. Still, the only response their their excuses was merely a raised eyebrow.
A glance of his eyes was sent in the direction of the little white haired seer beside him, Ariaya. He began to wonder what strings of future he might be severing, or even altering, as repercussions of his choices this day. Did it make it worse that he had come into this with utterly no plan of which hunting parties to select as prize winners beyond Galleia and Gaothaidh?
Fourth prize winners still needed to be announced. But who to choose?
There was barely a movement of his head, but his gaze flickered between the representatives of Eacharnach, and the hunting party that called themselves 'the Blue Falcons'. It was only when he looked at the latter party that his eyes widened just a touch more. At the front of the group... was that...? Rhodri had only seen the prince once before during a ball hosted by King Falcon years ago, and the Teumnach royal family had been invited to attend. The young prince Peregrine had evidently grown up since then, but last Rhodri had heard, the 'rightful king' was a rebel and scoundrel.
His eyes flickered back to the hunting party of Eacharnach, representing King Pandion Alexander – the younger brother of Peregrine Alexander.
This just complicated matters. Who to choose? Crowned King, or the Rightful King? As a prince who was set to become king himself, Rhodri would naturally choose Peregrine. But political tensions were running high, and Rhodri would need allies in the other nations. Was Pandion the wiser choice? For the first time Rhodri wished that it was Rhiannon selecting the winners, not himself – she would know what to do. A latter thought realised that it didn't matter which party he chose. They were both against the Galleian's anyway, thanks to Dumnorix, son of Segomarus. That man truly was what people feared all the galleians were: a barbarian.
Rhodri wasn't too thrilled with Dumnorix's actions here in Eacharnach either.
Finally Rhodri made a decision. “I declare the 'Blue Falcons' as fourth place”, the fae prince spoke clearly.
Jon's hands flew to his head as he jumped when Artemis had spoken so loudly inside his mind. He was not accustomed to people speaking directly into his brain, but he had become so focused on the patient that he had been largely oblivious to what was going on around him. He hadn't had time to be nervous about his own healing abilities, what the others were doing, or what was happening outside of the tent. Now that they had finished, Jon supposed that some fancy people who represented their kingdoms should come barging through the tent flaps, eager to see how the patient was doing, but they didn't come. They were likely waiting so that the healers could stabilize the patient, no doubt. After all, these were experienced courtiers and surely they knew that the most important thing was Tiernan's health; they couldn't possibly be thinking of anything else.
“I know.” He told Artemis. “Let him rest, now. We'll watch him. His body needs to rest. Once he's stabilized, he'll wake up.” Jon didn't speak of the possibility of death when patients were so close to it. Not only did it upset everyone around him, but it seemed like bad luck. Of course, there always seemed to be that one worrywart, especially in a family situation who seemed determined to make nothing that Jon said about the situation count.
“Oh...” Was his only reaction to when Artemis started making tea or rather, when she used her magic to make the tea make itself. He knew she was magically gifted, but that still didn't stop her from surprising him on a daily basis. “Camille?” He suggested, thinking they could all use something for their nerves.
He had not previously noticed that Khalidah seemed “out of it”, as he had been focusing all of his attention on the patient, but now that he came to think of it, she looked woozy to him. He opened his mouth to offer her assistance of some kind as she preemptively apologized for something and without further warning, she bit down on her forearm. The bloody display that followed was just that – a display. Jon stepped back, his arms instinctively reaching to pull Artemis back with him, but as quickly as it had become, it stopped.
“I can imagine.” Jon told her, stepping back toward her again, watching her bandage her own arm. He didn't know what else could be proper to say or do in this situation, but he didn't have to struggle for long, as he had jumped across the floor to scoop her fallen form into her his arms. He lifted her as easily as one might lift a cat or a small dog and carried her to the large bed in the corner, where he placed her on the lavish cushions, which would no doubt be decorated in the crimson of her blood before long.
“Just rest for now.” He stepped back and turned to Artemis. “Shall we have our tea?”
The jewel-claiming ceremony was madness. Peregrine wouldn't have said that he expected anything else before The Hunt had begun, but he had also expected to win and once it became abundantly clear that they hadn't won, he didn't expect to receive anything. He was an outlaw, he was scrappy, and he had a reputation for being wild as the forests in which he lived. On top of that, he was a mortal – albeit the mortal who had “cheated” death – and no fae royal would bother forming an alliance with him. What could he possibly offer a sidhe? Of course, there were plenty of things he knew he could bring to the table, but for a sidhe to see things from his point of view was highly unlikely.
He couldn't do anything in response to the sheer amount of unrest brought about by the Galleians. They shouldn't even be allowed to participate in this Hunt, in his opinion. The white stag was a gift from the gods to the people they had created – the people of Speirling and to share their gifts with foreign invaders who had come to kill and conquer seemed like blasphemy – and this was coming from a man whose beliefs were agnostic at best.
So he found himself blinking in surprise when the Teumnachian prince called out his name – or, more accurately, the name he had given his hunting party. It didn't take long for him to recover from his shock. His self-assured victory smile was firmly back in place moments later and he rode Vollo out from the ranks of the lesser men that had surrounded him only seconds before.
“That would be me!” He announced, just in case anyone hadn't made the connection.
As it seemed like overkill (even for him) to ride Vollo straight up to the jewels, he dismounted the moment he was outside the circle, leaving the reins over his neck. He proceeded alone to where the Nightcat stood, guarding them. Vollo took a few steps to follow him, but Peregrine reached an arm out to touch his nose, halting him.
That damn suit of armor from Gaothaidh had claimed the diamond, the jewel of invincibility, already. That was the one he had wanted and the one that would help him most in his war against Pandion and now, the foreigners who seemed hell-bent on conquering and killing his entire kingdom for no apparent reason. Courage was always nice, but he naturally had enough courage to get himself killed on a regular basis. Strength would have only been so useful. His hand inched toward the sapphire – lifelong youth and beauty would get him things that a crown never could, but he stopped. He had to pick the emerald. His rebels often went to bed hungry and they could make no headway against Pandion unless they had the supplies they needed. With inexhaustible wealth, they could attract – even buy – the allies and the armies that they so desperately needed. His hand closed around the small green jewel and he turned around and left the circle, leading Vollo back to rejoin the audience.
He had three choices left to make. It was down to the wire now. But there were four winners left to choose from, considering that two of the hunting parties were tied. Inevitably that would mean that one hunting party from the 'winners list' would miss out.
And Rhodri was the one to decide who. Out of the options that remained, the Prince of Teumnach had to decide between the hunting party representing the King of Eacharnach; the “Fellowship of Tomfoolery”; the “Swamp Sinners”; and the royal hunting party of Sgaithte.
The responsibility was beginning to feel like an immense weight upon his shoulders. Is this what the pressure of ruling my kingdom will be like? the young fae prince asked himself in a private thought. He might have been 'ancient' by human standards, the fact of the matter was, in a kingdom that housed sidhe that were aged well over 100,000 years... Rhodri was little more than a child. He would be hard pressed ruling a kingdom that did not think he could do the job handed to him, when they thought of him in such a fashion.
It was the same struggle that Rhiannon had been facing every day thus far in trying to gain and hold respect and power within the royal court.
Rhodri's mind circled back to the issue of selecting the winning hunting parties. The moonstone, the pearl, and the sapphire were the only remaining jewels to be claimed. Three prizes. Four hunting parties.
The pressure of his choices was beginning to feel even heavier upon his shoulders.
“I call the leader of the Swamp Sinners to claim his prize”, Rhodri announced, his voice loud and clear, revealing nothing of the uncertainty that he felt. His reasons for selecting this particular hunting party? That despite the fact that Cedric Dractwood had been banished from Teumnach years prior, he was the least objectionable of the remaining leaders. Rhodri had no personal issue's against the Swampland King, even if his forebears might.
Look, strange women lying in ponds is no basis for a system of government
Out of those who made up the circle, he had not been expecting his name to be called. He hadn't been first and he hadn't been last, either, but none of that seemed to matter, It seemed that this was determined by popularity than by talent. This was nothing but politics. He was coming to realize that politics was nothing more than a popularity contest with every passing day and he wasn't popular...at least he hadn't been until this moment.
He didn't understand why he had been chosen. Wouldn't Roman have been a better choice? He could be mistaken, but he thought that Roman had finished in second place, before the poor huntsman had been shot. As much as he hated to admit it, Roman was a more attractive ally than Cedric was, so why had one of the most powerful men in Speirling chosen him over the taller, wealthier, more connected not-king of Riasglach?
Cedric knew better than to ask questions or to comment on the prince's choice. He stuck out his chin and held his head high as he dismounted and strode to where the Nightcat was waiting. He was a king, after all, and he had to be content in the knowledge that Prince Rhodri must have seen something in him and what he wanted to bring to Riasglach that Roman would never possess.
There weren't many gems left. Cedric had wanted the emerald, the diamond, or even the garnet, but they had already been chosen. No king wanted lifelong youth and beauty. A prince might, but even Peregrine, the vain rebel from the north, had failed to pick that gem. Cedric knew he could not hold up the proceedings by agonizing over his decision. His fingers closed over the pearl.
He treated the Nightcat to a stiff bow and then turned and walked back to his hunting party.
Two choices. That was all that was required of him now. He only had to call upon two more winning hunting parties. There were three to choose from, but the young sidhe prince of Teumnach knew exactly which two hunting parties to select.
Even though he knew his choices, choosing them in the right order was what was taking him so long to announce a decision. Naturally, he know what other people would say about the order that he should select the winners. They would say that he should select the two official royal hunting parties of Eacharnach and Sgaithte and leave 'the Fellowship' in the dirt where those Riasglachian folks belonged.
Though of course, that same sentiment would extend to Cedric Dractwood. Others would say that Rhodri should not have selected that swampland king as a winner at all.
But it wasn't everyone else that was making the decisions. It was Rhodri. And unbeknownst to everyone, it was his first official act as future King of Teumnach. No one else had a clue. It was Teumnach's best kept secret. That and perhaps the madness of its current King (who did have brief moments of sanity where he seemed.... normal).
Squaring his shoulders, Rhodri lifted his chin. He knew the order that he would call the last two winning parties of the hunt now. He had made his choice. “I call upon the Royal hunting party of Eacharnach for sixth place”, the fae prince announced, his voice sounding clear across the clearing. But he did not wait long before revealing his last and final choice. His eyes turning towards the form of the King of Sgaithte. “I also declare the Fellowship hunting party for seventh place”.
Oh yes. Rhodri had made a bold choice with his final two decisions. No matter what any advisors could say now, the prince had made his bed and he would lie in it. Regardless of how many people would argue with him, Rhodri would never regret the order he had selected for the winners. Not now, not ever.
Scipio felt himself gasp as Eacharnach's name was announced. Scipio couldn't remember the last time he had gasped. It was true that the king had selected him to be the one to pick out the jewel when the winners were announced, but the king had not expected them to come in as far down the list as they had. Pandion had given him explicit instructions. He was to pick the diamond, the emerald, or the garnet. Past that point, His Majesty hadn't been clear, but he was willing to wager that he hadn't intended for Scipio to pick the sapphire over the moonstone. Scipio did not imagine there was a reality, alternate or otherwise, in which Pandion cared about life-long youth and beauty. The man was so practical it hurt. The choice was not Scipio's to make; he was only the errand boy.
And yet, temptation gripped him as he neared the circle. He was an elf, so he feared little for the day when his temples were smothered in gray, wrinkles covered his olive skin, and his limbs became wizened and sore. He did not fear for it, yet, anyway, but it would come, sure as his full head of hair and supple limbs, covered with muscle. It would take a long time for him to age, compared to his human king, but being beautiful had his perks and he didn't want to give them up ever. There were perks to being a beautiful, young elven blacksmith – he would not age for years, but King Pandion would see wrinkles on his face within the next ten years. What could a human king accomplish when he was forever young and beautiful? A lot more than a human king who aged.
His fingers brushed the surface of the sapphire and it glimmered as the light passed over it. It was so beautiful that Scipio almost picked it up for its aesthetic qualities alone, but then he remembered that the king would likely punish him in a way that would mar his perfect face or body, so he changed course and instead scooped up the moonstone, nodded to the Nightcat, and left the circle, returning to his mare and His Majesty.
The Teumnachian prince was not out of surprises yet. The final recipient of the last stone was a hunting party that called themselves The Fellowship. One look told Scipio that The Fellowship were another raggedy group from Riasglach, although significantly less raggedy than the first. They did not concern him for two reasons: one, they were too raggedy for him to consider them a threat and two, they lived so far south that their business wouldn't affect him.
What concerned him more was Sgaithte. Snubbed. He knew the sidhe of Teumnach were a proud people, but he didn't think them foolish enough to anger the masters of dragons.
Sig by the super-talented Kel! Visit her graphics shop HERE
Dismissed. Rejected. Publicly humiliated. Why, it's more than they could bear.
Relations between the dragon kingdom and the kingdom of the fae had never been friendly. Kronos knew their history; they had been enemies, thousands of years ago. The thing was, that had been thousands of years ago. He knew that the fae were long-lived, but surely they still couldn't be keeping a fifteen-thousand-year-old grudge alive. Not this alive, anyway. He was his kingdom's most prominent politician and he couldn't think of a reason why Sgaithte thought it so necessary to snub them like this.
And for whom? The foreigners had been given preferential treatment. Were the sidhe in bed with them? That was unlikely, seeing as how the pointy-eared lords looked down their perfectly symmetrical noses at anyone who wasn't them and especially humans, at that. Was the prince in bed with one of the hairy, axe-wielding foreigners? It was still unlikely, but it made more sense than the whole of Teumnach being in bed with them. Was there blackmail involved?
Screw the foreigners. There was still the matter that both of Riasglach's “kings” were shown favor by the prince. Kronos was glad that Cedric Dractwood had gotten something, as he was connected to him through Ani and Cedric's success would theoretically make Lonnie happy, but he knew very little of the other king. Whatever his background, he and Cedric acted like children in public, so he could hardly imagine what they acted like in the privacy of the swap they fought to control. It was enough to make anyone throw up in the back of their mouth. Then there was the matter of the patricidal Eacharnachian prince, who was apparently back from the dead and coming in closer than his brother. What was Prince Rhodri playing at?
Kronos decided that the best course of action was simply not to say anything at all in the matter, so he crossed his arms and tried to look dignified.
If He gets to be the King then I get to be the High King
"More beer?" Roman asked, pulling out a bottle from his satchel, and offering it up to whoever was closest to him.
Roman tilted his head to the side, half wondering whether he should just be himself and reject the stone all together.
"How much do these things sell for? I mean, I'm already immortal and I'm already impressively good looking," Roman said, taking the last stone, and tossing it over to his second. Mostly because he really didn't need anything that brought about an immortal life and beauty or whatever.
Roman wasn't sure just what was happening, but he could try pawning it off in Sgaithte or Gaothaidh. Either way, he wasn't keeping it. Mostly because he had no need and secondly he mistrusted magic a great deal.