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Reclaiming the kingdom [Lynnette & JennyDK]


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The unclaimed lands - As the name would suggest - were ruled by no-one. And, likewise, by everyone. It was its own little thing, away from kingdom borders. The place mothers told stories of to keep their child in bed at night, or where one might banish a prisoner.

But, to the people who resided there, it was so much more. Just as one might pledge their allegiance to their kingdom, the unclaimed lands were no different. it wasn't as though those who resided in its emptiness didn't know what happened outside. Civilizations formed, and likewise faltered, just as in the rest of the world. Settlements were built, some burned over petty conflicts, while others would stay, kept alive by those whom it protected. 

Ashford was one such place, placed downriver, the small city was built around it, multiple bridges passing across. There were farms, fishermen were sat by the riverside looking for today's catch, lumberers brought back their yields. Pulled by hand, leaving deep trails in the grass, a back-breaking exercise, but a meaningful one. Though wars were uncommon, the kettle started whistling from time to time, and Varg, the fortunate, or perhaps unfortunate, leader of the village, wasn't one to get caught off guard. Despite not having seen conflict for the last seven winters, he behaved as though the next one was around the corner at all times. He was of the weary sort, the sort that had seen what underestimating the unexpected led to. His body told story enough. Despite growing older, the scars were plentiful, the wolfman had been a frontliner before, the defenses surrounding the village were a deterrent, to hopefully avoid needing others to fill his shoes when he eventually passed.

Through the palisades and walls made out of whole trees though, there was a relatively peaceful community living within them. Tavern-brawls were frequent, though they were anywhere. But traders of all sorts came and left, there was laughter to be heard in the streets, and the homes were relatively well kept. In a lot of ways, it was just like any other small city, barring its population of wolfmen anyway. The roofs were a little taller, beyond that... Not much.

 

Standing guard outside the city walls, on its western entrance, stood Ruth and Culligan. Peacekeepers was their formal title, though they'd unanimously agree that they were paid to stand in place and not cause trouble, since trouble was a rarity by the gates anyway. The searing sun on a cloud-free day left them drowsy, only slightly eased by throwing their chest armor and shirts, though neither felt it helped much. Culligan would make his daily lackluster effort of charming Ruth, and Ruth would just as easily reject him, taking the job a fair bit more seriously, even though neither of them had the scars to show they could hold their own in a real fight. As with just about any other day, they were waiting, spears lazily resting by the walls, waiting for the bells to ring so they could go home.

Varg on his part did his usual rounds dealing with the daily headaches. Accusations of theft, actual theft, suggestions, or sometimes just listening or helping. He'd been a far rowdier soul at some point, nowadays he considered himself more like the village dad, though in a way, he didn't actually mind.

And that was Ashford, Varg's little haven along the river Serene, in the middle of the untamed, unclaimed lands. 

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Edited by Lynnette
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It has been almost a week ever since the heinous, sudden and unexpected coup back in her own land and kingdom. Queen Thyra Quickfoot was kidnapped during the middle of the night by unknown perpetrators, who had been taking advantage of a festival, which meant that the guards were split up more than usual, though it is very likely that a fair share was either bribed, assaulted or worse. No matter what the circumstances, it still led to the queen being basically exiled from her homeland and brought to the unclaimed lands, which lies far, far, far beyond her own home.

She was found by a single human who lived in the woods where she was dumped and left to hopefully get "dealt with" by monsters as the region is known for many and huge types of such. In reality, they are just a little bit less prone to fighting than her own kind or other civilized lands. She had been without food and water for some time and within the small hut of the old human she was brought back to full vigor. She of course thanked the man greatly for his help, but immediately wants to change her situation and retake what is her: her kingdom.

She asked the old man for the nearest town, which has now led her to the small village of Ashford, not too far from there. With her old royal garbs gone, she has instead adorned a more simply attire, which does not reflect her noble heritage at all. It is a very standard cloth dress she wishes she can replace with something better soon.

Thyra walks confidently and unwavered towards the port of the pallisade walls.

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Edited by JennyDK
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The tiny piece of roofing offered to the two peacekeepers did near nothing, they were both pulled as far back to the wall as they could, Culligan had his head tilted back to try and hide it a tiny bit more from the sun. Drowsiness was kicking in on the both of them, and it took them a good while to even spot Thyra approaching. Too long to take the time to put the armor back - Not that either one wanted to, the crude iron plates had been bathing in the sun for hours. So they instead took their spears, keeping them upright for now.

"HALT!" Culligan exclaimed when Thyra was about two spear lengths from the both of them. "Show your proof of passage!" He stood a good two meters and a half, and had a fairly imposing figure for that sake, all the more with his chest puffed out. Ruth's brows furrowed and she turned to Culligan instead. "Oh shut it you, have you lost your head to the heat? She's obviously not a trader, from where would she have a proof? Besides, Varg would have your head if you turned away someone traveling alone." Between the two, she had a gentler physique, standing at around 220, modestly curved and fairly front-loaded.

Edited by Lynnette
Cutting it down a bit
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Thyra honestly didn't spare the guards much thought before she is ordered to stop. Even though she is faced with a spear, she does not flinch, jump or anything of the sort. She simply give him a slightly annoyed look. There doesn't seem to be any signs of fear or shock in her face or body language at all. She is about to speak to Culligan before the other one chimes in to speak his mind and she is about to laugh, but decides to suppress it as he really does have a point there. She has no wares with her at all and is all by herself.

Once she sees the chance to speak up, she does so."Greetings. I am Thyra Quickfoot, queen of the goblin lands. Who is the leader of this village? Is it this Varg? Where can I meet this person?", she asks, not even bothering to ask if she can enter or should need permission to speak to their leader, already showing a rather cocky and confident nature.

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Culligan looked like he'd been about to say something snarky, like announcing himself the king of the lands. Ruth's swift, piercing scowl kept him quiet though. The two exchanged a few glances, a silent debate that Ruth seemed to be winning. 

After their little exchange, Ruth nodded and gestured for Thyra to follow. "Let's see if we can find him." Culligan seemed to hold his post, returning to the tiny patch of shade he tried to stay within. After they passed the gates, she stopped briefly, leering up to try and see where the sun was in the skies. She felt she could make a guess as to where they might find him, though it wasn't always easy. Curious eyes were all over, looking at their visitor. Still, it was by most counts a surprisingly peaceful town. Few weapons were carried, mostly tools, though a woodsman's axe or a butcher's knife was nothing to scoff at.

"Have you travelled far? I've never heard of these 'goblin lands'," Ruth asked, looking over at Thyra, walking pretty slowly towards where she guessed Varg would be, not wanting to leave their guest behind. 

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Thyra grows a wider smirk once it seems clear that she is granted access to the village. She simply continues walking, not speaking for now and simply taking in the sights of the place while Ruth shows the way to the village leader. Surely, he might have some answers on where she is more exactly and how to get back to her own place."I have no idea. I have been taken here against my will. Hopefully your chieftain will have some answers for me", she responds back while her jiggly and thick small goblin form sways and wobbles, from even small movements of her body. This place looks fairly simple and primitive, tech wise, whereas at home they have steam engines and what not. She figures that with her wits, knowledge and leadership skills, she might even make herself able to turn things to her advantage. She just needs to study them a bit more and grow her knowledge and certainly she could gain some allies. There has to be some sort of way to make this happen.

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As Ruth and Thyra moved further into town, the population slowly got more diverse. It was still dominated by wolfmen, but a few other races could be seen, mostly the sorts one would expect to find in the unclaimed lands, though there were a few humans mixed in as well, peddling goods. 

"Varg has seen more of the world than most of us living in Ashford, so if anyone knew it would be him."

Ruth stayed on path though, leading them through the streets, eventually crossing the river. The bridge itself was well-built - Despite not being the most advanced, it was a fair indicator that they had skilled masons and woodworkers among their ranks. They passed a few fields growing wheat, a curious pick for a carnivorous race, though with the traders in town, that they traded it away for other goods was a fair assumption. Finally, they came up on a smaller house, where under an awning two wolfmen sat with chisels and hammers carving bricks from blocks of rock. One of them put down his tools, giving a nod to the other before getting up. Unlike ruth and Culligan, he'd kept his shirt on, same with pants for that sake, though scars of battle still showed on his arms. His height was impressive to say the least, passing three meters with ease, making Ruth seem relatively short as he got closer. 

"A guest? That's a rare treat, who might you be?" His voice was more matured than what Culligan's had, though similarly it was gentle, like a giant trying to play with a flimsy stick. 

 

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Thyra kept taking in the sights and impressions given to her from what is presented to her during the walk from the gate and towards the other side of the village. Even a small stream seems to cut through it, meaning there is likely also fishing to be done. Since they are using tools, they are either made with rocks or a metal of some sort. It seems relatively important to see how advanced they are in terms of technology. The further back they are, the easier it could be to convince them to go along with her requests - at least that's her theory so far.

'Guests are rare? I thought I just saw a few people not being bullmen', she thinks to herself before she fully gets to responding who she assumes is Varg. She gives his massive size a thorough and analyzing look, easily noticing he seems much taller and such than the others.'Perhaps they base leadership merely on size and number of scars? I guess it is worth to figure out these criteria?', she goes off in her own mind whilst still speaking her answer."You are speaking to Queen Thyra Quickfoot. Queen of the goblin lands - which are apparently very, very far from this place. I have taken here against my will by evil perpetrators, I wish to return there and reclaim my rightful throne, lands and subjects", she says without hesitation and pride in her voice.

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Having finished her job, Ruth spoke up. "I have to return to my post, I'll leave you two to it," she said, stepping aside. The spear was rested on her shoulder as she started making her way back to the gate, leaving Thyra with Varg, who gave a small "Aha" as Thyra finished her introductions. Probably not the royal treatment, though he wasn't exactly used to the snobbery most royalty came with either. He considered himself a simple man, not one who desperately craved the finer things in life.

"My name is Varg, I don't care much for titles. I'm the leader around here, at least that's what everyone else says." He said as a form of introduction, following it by a small chuckle. "Make yourself useful and you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like, or need. But let's not worry about that for today, you must be hungry?" Though he had a feeling getting back to her homelands was on her mind, some hospitality couldn't hurt.

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Thyra doesn't honestly care much for his disposition about titles, as long as he can help her out in some sort of way or even ways, depending on what she may be able to get at. From the sound of things, the title of leader here seems to be more unofficial more than anything. That ought to mean that such a thing is up for grabs and maybe that would even help them in the long run. She smirks widely and heavily from her own ideas and ambitions. He speaks about her making herself useful - since she is new here and they seem more able to do manual labour, she is hardly fit for such tasks. At least for now, she can focus on studying these beastmen and hopefully find an angle to use it to her advantage how they live and are organized."I would indeed appreciate a good meal and I thank you kindly for your generous hospitality Varg. Perhaps you can tell me more about your tribe at the same time as we feast?", she asks.

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"Think nothing of it." Despite the growly way he spoke, there was a genuine undertone in it. He didn't seem bothered by their unannounced guest in the slightest, quite the contrary. He led them onwards, walking about as slow as he reasonably could to let Thyra keep up. Varg guided them back across the river again, over a bigger, wider bridge, likely built to support carriages. They eventually came upon a tavern. The double-doors were held open wide to allow outside air to pass through, the indoors was reasonably cool, and not too crowded given the day was still young. Varg guided them further in, eventually settling on a table with bench seating away from the worst crowds. 

"Meals and drinks for the both of us," he said to the cook as he came over, he looked over the audience briefly before nodding, heading back to prepare their food. 

"Now then, you were curious about us?" He thought of where to begin for a bit. She hadn't been too specific about what she wanted to know, so Varg figured he wouldn't be too specific either. "Well, Ashford is made up from many different... Tribes, as you called it. Most of us, us older ones anyway, fought for other tribes in the past, but got tired of the constant, meaningless fights, and founded this village instead, here in the middle of the unclaimed lands. We've seen our share of conflict after the village was built as well, though these last few years have been peaceful. Many traders come through, wanting to use the bridges to cross the river, so we trade with them for goods rather than fighting for it." Beyond that, Varg wasn't sure what else she would want to know without her being more specific, so he left it there, letting her ask instead if she wanted more information about something.

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Thyra follows the large beastman towards what seems to be a tavern of some sort. Of course, despite being a queen she is still pretty familiar with such settings as the goblins are not too high up on a horse, even nobles and royalty and that goes for this one as well. She is still used to being waitered on and such, so receiving free meals and drinks is pretty much standard to her. Of course, she is aware that it's a not a given in this place - at least not yet. She sits down and listens and quickly determine these lands to be rather caught up with in-fighting more than anything, if what she is told is anything to go by. A new smirk grows across her face and she can tell there is indeed potential to be had here. She politely waits for him to finish before commenting."Oh, it sounds like a lot of turmoil is going on around here. There definitely seems to be a need for some order and collectiveness. Luckily, I have plenty of experience with both of those things", she says, being quite genuine.

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The cook made his return with a pair of platters, one in his hand and the other stacked on top of his forearm. Drinks were carried in the other, tankards the size of Thyra's head. He put down the drinks between them, they were both the same after all. The plates however he seemed a little more selective about.

They were both roughly the same size in terms of volume, though Thyra's plate was distinctly more varied than Varg's, having some fresh fruits and bread to go with the stacked up meat. If he were in a pinch, he could eat other foods, but luckily they weren't that desperate. The meals were nicely cooked, seasoned even, more than what most would expect from a free meal if nothing else. Varg pulled a big knife from his belt, big enough that Thyra could probably have used it as a sword, and he started to carve off the meal, avoiding the more obvious approach of just using his hands.

Though it would take more than big words to impress Varg, the curious humming coming from him, he hadn't just discredited her words either. "Hmm, well that's interesting," Varg started, grabbing his share of the drinks while he spoke. "But I get the feeling there's something else to it as well that you've omitted?" He had a sip of his drink, roughly half of it to be more precise. "A revenge plot, conquest perhaps?" Though he had a tendency to seem disinterested, he had been listening, keenly. And with Thyra's story of how she got to the unclaimed lands, that was the only conclusion he could come to.

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OOC: I will admit that I had more simple minded creatures in mind so Thyra could relatively easily talk them into following her, of course along with using her body to "persuade" them.

Thyra watches the food and drink being carried and delivered to them, eyeing over the rather large meal, which would probably satiate at least 2-3 goblins on its own. Luckily, she is no strangers to eating her fill. She does notice the use of a knife to be used, so that means they are at least this level of clean when it comes to eating. Still, plenty of goblins on the more low end of the wealth scale or living out in the woods eat without utensils, so even if the knife was absent it would not really strike her as odd or anything bad at all.

The goblin queen begins to eat from her large plate and taste whatever is in the tankard, but going slowly if it turns out to be alcohol. She frowns a bit at him poking at the reason for her inquiries. She decides to not answer that at all, honestly. As of now, that is of no one's business and will likely lead to her having to reason and bargain for her any allies even more. If these villagers prove too clever for such schemes, surely there are other and better places where they ask less questions."How many lives in this village anyway and is it far to the next one?", she goes on, not in the mood to be quetioned too deeply.

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