11-02-2015, 10:42 PM
Esileif emerged on the other side of the fire wall, eyes closed and looking a little shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Fennick let out a sigh of relief. He had been pretty certain she would be fine, but you never really knew. The wall, and the Valley itself, had a mind of its own. There was more than a little magic mixed in with the dirt. Still, Demian had insisted that the fire wouldn’t burn up any welcome guests, and so far he had been true to his word. Fennick, at least, was batting a good average with his 100 percent survival rate. Perhaps, he would add that to the Valley’s recruitment speed. You’re almost certain to survive! It had a nice ring to it. Despite his cheerfulness regarding the matter, he couldn’t help but looking a little sheepish.
“That’s our fire wall. It keeps out unwelcome guests, invaders and ne'er-do-wells, if you will. I don’t really understand it myself, Demian, Eight and Flamevein built it. Apparently, it senses intentions, and burns bad intentions.” Fennick shrugged, as if it wasn’t very interesting or that big of a deal. It truth were to be told, he still found it quite fascinating. Fennick simply needed every opportunity he could get to play it cool. The chance came around so very rarely. Though, apparently, the wall wouldn’t hold Esileif’s attention forever. Fennick’s cooly nonchalant expression turned sheepish almost as quickly as it had come. He had forgotten to show her around. Instances like this reminded Fennick of why he was a captain, and not a diplomat. The little details of hosting were usually lost of him.
“Ah yes, I suppose I should show you the rest of it.” With one more sheepish smile, just for good measure, Fennick began his ambling walk towards he center of the Valley. As would be expected, the mountains all around them gently sloped downwards and towards a large basin where the kingdom met. Small deer paths led to other smaller valleys that housed the herds.
While they ambled, Fennick pondered Esileif’s question. Fennick had arrived here, partially by accident, almost four years ago. It was hard to believe time had flown by so fast. It seemed like just yesterday that he was crashing Demian’s coronation.
“Demian is our king. He took over for Eight a number of years ago. Demian is the one who erected the wall, with the help of Flamevein and Eight’s magic. I’m Demian’s right hand and captain. I see to the army’s business. The diplomats are led by Cress.” That was the official run down. Several important people were missing of course, but seeing as the names wouldn’t mean much to Esileif her yet, Fennick saved them for another time. He turned his head so she could better see his left eye.
“These tattoos mark us as loyal to the Valley. Those who choose to take the oath have them.” Fennick remembered the day he got his tattoo with fondness. It had been a proud moment for him, and one he would remember for many years to come. He hoped that, one day, he could see his children take the oath as well.
“It you want an older history of the Valley, Gallows, Eight or Shiya could probably tell you. Or, if you’re interested in a newcomers perspective, there is Hestia or Thorunn.” Fennick considered his words for a moment. Hestia had, technically, arrived in the Valley long, long before Fennick had. She had left and recently returned, so perhaps she could provide a newcomer’s perspective and provide some history, a two for one conversationalist.
“That’s our fire wall. It keeps out unwelcome guests, invaders and ne'er-do-wells, if you will. I don’t really understand it myself, Demian, Eight and Flamevein built it. Apparently, it senses intentions, and burns bad intentions.” Fennick shrugged, as if it wasn’t very interesting or that big of a deal. It truth were to be told, he still found it quite fascinating. Fennick simply needed every opportunity he could get to play it cool. The chance came around so very rarely. Though, apparently, the wall wouldn’t hold Esileif’s attention forever. Fennick’s cooly nonchalant expression turned sheepish almost as quickly as it had come. He had forgotten to show her around. Instances like this reminded Fennick of why he was a captain, and not a diplomat. The little details of hosting were usually lost of him.
“Ah yes, I suppose I should show you the rest of it.” With one more sheepish smile, just for good measure, Fennick began his ambling walk towards he center of the Valley. As would be expected, the mountains all around them gently sloped downwards and towards a large basin where the kingdom met. Small deer paths led to other smaller valleys that housed the herds.
While they ambled, Fennick pondered Esileif’s question. Fennick had arrived here, partially by accident, almost four years ago. It was hard to believe time had flown by so fast. It seemed like just yesterday that he was crashing Demian’s coronation.
“Demian is our king. He took over for Eight a number of years ago. Demian is the one who erected the wall, with the help of Flamevein and Eight’s magic. I’m Demian’s right hand and captain. I see to the army’s business. The diplomats are led by Cress.” That was the official run down. Several important people were missing of course, but seeing as the names wouldn’t mean much to Esileif her yet, Fennick saved them for another time. He turned his head so she could better see his left eye.
“These tattoos mark us as loyal to the Valley. Those who choose to take the oath have them.” Fennick remembered the day he got his tattoo with fondness. It had been a proud moment for him, and one he would remember for many years to come. He hoped that, one day, he could see his children take the oath as well.
“It you want an older history of the Valley, Gallows, Eight or Shiya could probably tell you. Or, if you’re interested in a newcomers perspective, there is Hestia or Thorunn.” Fennick considered his words for a moment. Hestia had, technically, arrived in the Valley long, long before Fennick had. She had left and recently returned, so perhaps she could provide a newcomer’s perspective and provide some history, a two for one conversationalist.