The House of Cormyr

[Artorius]

Three riders come trotting slowly up to the gates and stop. The middle rider, dawning a maroon cape along with his armor, removes his helmet to reveal a middle aged gentleman with blonde hair.

"Greetings!" proclaimed the man, "I am Artorius, Lord of the House of Cormyr and a member of its council. I have come on matters of state and wish to speak with an official of your court."

Artorius shifts slightly in his saddle and waits for a reply.

[Fenris]

A tall man in chainmail with long hair and ragged facial hair opens the gate and walks out to greet the three travelers, flanked by two footmen of Wessex.

"Greetings men of Cormyr!" Greeted the man, "I am Fenris Sigismund, Sheriff of Wessex. I trust your journey was a pleasant one? Im sure a representative of the court will be with you shortly, in the meantime, you can wait in the ducal hall."

[Artorius]

Artorius smiles and greets the sheriff kindly.

"Aye, no worse than other journies," he says. "But most of my journies do not end in such a pleasnt place as this."

Artorius follows his greeter to their destination and, being weary of riding, quickly dismounts; his heavy, unclean armor clanking noisily."

[Surly von Fishbarrel]

The grinding and persistent pounding of the forge drowns out all discernable noises from the outside world. The heat alone would wither a man's soul so thoroughly that he would pay no mind to even the call of the sirens. Yet through the halls of the castle echoed the faintest of clatter, carried gently into the bowels of Wessex by the silence of its cavernous stone passages. Fishbarrel's head jerked upright from his forge, sensing the slightest sign of imperfection. It was unmistakable. Here, in Wessex, a suit of armor so poorly made that it would rattle with the merest movement.

As Cormyr stood by his mighty steed, embodiment of the human's stalwart race, he too was caught by an unmistakable sound. Pounding of what seemed to be massive hammers. Distant at first, the deep thuds seemed to bruise the very earth as they approached. A heavy wooden door on the interior of the castle's tower muffled the sound, as if to shield the courtyard's inhabitants from the horrendous torture being laid upon the ground at regular intervals.

At once, with a thunderous clash, the door exploded from its hinges and lay splintered on the ground. Behind it, obscured only slightly by shadow, stood the sillouhette of a dwarf whos armor reflected what little light touched it onto Cormyr with such brilliance he was commanded to shield his eyes.

The stature of the dwarf relaxed, the tension and eagerness to destroy worlds fell from him and turned to disappointment.

"Oh, It's a visitor..."

"Fenris, fetch some one to mend the door. And how many times do I have to remind you to inform me when a dignitary arrives? pfooey!"

Without a word to Cormyr, the dwarf vanished back into the halls of the tower. The pounding of earth dulled to a light rapping before being replaced by the steady tinking of a smithing hammer, and the heavy heated winds of a furnace.

[Nira Nathair]

As the one dwarf disappears, another, shorter one emerges from the broken door. Somewhat more subdued than her usual bouyant demeanor, she greets the three riders.

"Welcome to Wessex," she says warmly, "I'm miss Nathair, herald to His Grace the Duke. If you'd like to step inside and freshen up, I will inquire if His Grace will be able to see you now." She turns to the stableboys who have just approached. "Please see to the Lords' horses. If you'll follow me, gentlemen."

Nira leads them into a large stone chamber. The air is cool, and slightly sweet with the smell of the flowers hung on the pillars. "Please make yourselves comfortable. There is punch and fruit if you'd like." She indicates a long table on one side of the room. "And if you need, the chambers are just down that passage there. Please, if you need anything, ask one of the stewards. I shall return presently."

She bustles off down a corridor to look for the Duke.

[Artorius]

"Lively fellow," says Artorius to one of his knights. "The dwarf I should say, doesn't seem like one who likes to entertain though."

"Aye, but the Lady Nathair seems nice," came the reply.

Artorius agreed and, taking off his weathered gauntlets, makes his way to the fruit. After a moment he turns to his knights who are standing there watching him.

"Dig in brothers," he says while tossing an apple to one of his servants. "Courtesy of the Duke of Wessex."

[Nira Nathair]

After a few minutes, the dwarf returns and beckons the visitors to follow. "His Grace will see you straight away. Please, come with me."

She leads them down a couple of corridors, through a tapestry gallery (where she comments on a particularly beautiful pastoral view), and finally to a halt before the large wooden doors of the office of state. She opens them wide and steps in, giving introduction.

"Your Grace, may I present Lord Artorius of the House of Cormyr. His Grace, the Duke of Wessex." She steps back out of the way to allow the men to come forward.

[Artorius]

Artorius beckons his knights to wait outside as the Lady Nathair opens the doors to the office of state. He then, slowly steps in and executes a formal bow upon being introduced.

"Thank you, your Grace, for seeing me upon such short notice," He says. "I promise to be quick in my presentation so that you may get back to whatever business commanded your attention before me...."