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Snippet #2575886

located in Tibera, a part of The Price of Blood, one of the many universes on RPG.

Tibera

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham
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๏ผฒ๏ผฅ๏ผฎ๏ผฌ๏ผนx๏ผก๏ผฒ๏ผฒ๏ผน๏ผฎ
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"Little by little, the old world crumbled,
and not once did the king imagine that
some of the pieces might fall on him."

โ€• Jennifer Donnelly

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A chamber maid shook Ren roughly from pleasant dreams and wordlessly led him out of the castle. He stumbled into the mid morning chill, groggy from sleep, to find his horse saddled and the king already mounted. There was nothing to do but rub the sleep from his eyes, dress, and mount up. They had a hunt to set out on and the king waited for no man.

The royals set the pace, and driving his black destrier hard, Ren galloped along beside them, trying his best to keep up. He called out a question as they rode, but the wind blew his words away, and Ulfric did not hear him. After that Renly rode in silence. The sun, high in the sky, sent fingers of light through the pale white mist left behind by an earlier morning rain. He looked to his prince, who rode closely with his father and frowned, an uneasy feeling settling in in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes it seemed Ronan was as cold as a Northern winter and sharp as a slap from an old, angry drunkard, as hard as Ostwall armor and wicked as the jokes young boys used to whisper to each other during mass. The murky day seemed foreboding and Renly couldn't quite pinpoint why. He quelled his anxiety by keeping his head on a swivel, eyes searching for a familiar dark swatch of hair and a set of warm brown eyes. Would his Nicholas be out on the hunt, carrying some knight or king's pack supplies and spare weaponry like Ren? Or was he back at the castle all snug and warm, still tucked in his bed or perhaps having a late breakfast or an early lunch?

No matter how tired Renly was now, dragging on with this exercise deprived of a long sleep, he could not be made to regret his late night escapade to the garden. He was a romantic, and he was consumed with hope though little more had carried on save a night of conversation and a kiss between strangers. He was soon snapped out of his reverie and his search when the King and Prince pulled away from the group to set off on their own. He hesitated in his saddle, unsure if he should follow. If they wanted to be in each other confidences then he'd be in trouble for taking off after them; were they stalking after prey, they'd be furious he wasn't there to retrieve the kill. He mulled over his options carefully and opted to trail in their general direction within earshot but out of sight. If they called for him, he'd hear them; but if their voice never reached above a conversational volume, their exchange would remain secret.

cron