Snippet #2732821

Everyone who heard of Morelia, or the Dame of the Fallen House as some mockingly called her, thought of her punishment as a sort of dolled up enslavement. She had to serve her "Lord" and the Crown to repay the debt her family had amassed through crime but the life of a Knight/Dame was as enriching as it was perilous. Sure, if any trouble came to the fiefdom she served or should her Lord will it, she would be sent to deal with it but this was not a daily occurrence. Morelia spent most of her days in a rather dull but otherwise pleasant predictable cycle.

She would awaken as the sun rose and was free to do as she pleased until first Mass at Noon. After this session of worship and prayer (Morelia being the blasphemer she was, napped during her prayers and endured the nonsense that was the worship of these so called "Higher Powers" or Gods"), Morelia would practice her battle, study warfare and strategy, and or assist in the training of the Garrison's soldiers. After this her afternoon was open until sun down when she would be forced to partake in more courtly activities, putting to practice her chivalric code and her understanding of Courtship to entertain whatever important guests were present at the castle. Some might think her a fool to not enjoy dances and feasts but Morelia was not anti social. She did not enjoy these feasts and dances because she would rather be swinging her sword at practice dummies. She despised them because these were not done in her name. Morelia was ambitious. Perhaps too ambitious. Her goal for now was to revive the Lionharts but she could hope but envision more...Perhaps she would dare aim for the crown?

Such treasonous thoughts would have to be put to wait as the carriage came to a halt. "Dame and company!". The coachman spoke loudly enough to catch the attention of his targeted audience but not so loud as to grab the attention of others. The door was opened and a hand offered Morelia assistance, she ignored it and made her way out of the carriage. The dirt beneath her feet gave way beneath the weigh of Plate armor. Hugging her hip was an Arming Sword upon whom's hilt her left hand rested on. On the opposite end a dagger and a Mace. Two more gentlemen accompanied her, these two wore Gambeson under a layer of chainmail shirts. Their heads protected by metal kettle helms, they were experienced Men At Arms which was why they sported decent armor. Each had a wooden shield and studded leather with a Mace and Dagger at their hip. The last member of her company was a young boy who also sported a shirt of chainmail and a tunic with the Lord's heraldry. He did not have any weapons of his own but he did carry a sheathed Beidhänder one could only assume was the property of the Dame.

"Alright you lot, we are going to find a place to stay for the night that isn't flea ridden if there are any and tomorrow we will begin our inspection of the lands. If you spot any undead, don't fret it. According to our Lord, the Necromancer Sect here legally reanimates the corpses of criminals and other undesirables so they can serve the living. Don't doubt for a second we won't be inspecting them as well.".

With a groan and a grunt, the two older Men At Arms walked ahead of Morelia, who followed suit. The Boy was sticking close to the Dame, probably nervous and fearful due to the mention of the undead presence.