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The Kingdom of Nexonia - Auriana's Court RP


AurianaValoria1

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Hmm, a gift from a Raven? Picking up the coloured glass, the Lord High Executioner peered at the Raven from beneath a bony brow, wondering what could possibly motivate this strange act of, what? Generosity? Littering?

*The Goddess stopped hopping as the cloaked man bent down to pick up the glass. As he stared at her she flapped her wings, lifting into the air, swinging around in a maneuver that no real raven could manage. The Goddess back-flapped and landed on the man's left shoulder her wing beating a tattoo on the back of his head.

 

She rubbed her cheek against the side of the man's head and settled herself more on his shoulder. Considering for a moment, The Goddess made a decision and poked her beak toward the man's hooded ear.

 

*Greetings Human...* she spoke softly into his mind.

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Hmm, a gift from a Raven? Picking up the coloured glass, the Lord High Executioner peered at the Raven from beneath a bony brow, wondering what could possibly motivate this strange act of, what? Generosity? Littering?

*The Goddess stopped hopping as the cloaked man bent down to pick up the glass. As he stared at her she flapped her wings, lifting into the air, swinging around in a maneuver that no real raven could manage. The Goddess back-flapped and landed on the man's left shoulder her wing beating a tattoo on the back of his head.

 

She rubbed her cheek against the side of the man's head and settled herself more on his shoulder. Considering for a moment, The Goddess made a decision and poked her beak toward the man's hooded ear.

 

*Greetings Human...* she spoke softly into his mind.

 

 

With the acrobatic display and the speech, the Lord High Executioner finally understood the riddle of the raven - it was clearly a delusion, that made sense of everything.

 

"That never happened. You might fool a fellow of lesser station,

but I know you're just a fig-leaf of my imagination!"

 

Shouldn't that be figment? Why did I say fig-leaf? Why did I speak to it? :confused:

 

I knew I shouldn't eat those sausages that Mistress Ploppy cooked. I bet she's put more Mystery Meat in them again.

 

The best thing to do with imaginary talking ravens is to pretend they're not there until the sausages wear off.

 

Putting the piece of glass into a pocket - after all, that must be where it came from and it wouldn't do to leave evidence of the imaginary raven's littering activities - the Lord High Executioner plodded across the lawn towards the Great Hall, pointedly ignoring the 'Don't Walk on the Grass' sign and the remarkably agile imaginary raven that definitely wasn't sitting on his shoulder, definitely wasn't looking at him out of one dark eye just the way that ravens don't, and absolutely, definitely hadn't spoken to him.

 

Yes, that's better - definitely just the sausages.

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Walking into the Great Hall, The GPPS Cat thought, "What a great job spyro did on waxing the floor. I'll bet if a get a good start, I can slide completely across the floor." So with a short run and a flop on the belly, he did slide the entire length of the hall, coming to a stop at the foot of the throne. "What a wonderful color", he thought. "And what a wonderful place for a nap", as he climbed up one of the chair legs, leaving claw marks in the wood. "Just a little bit of moving the stuffing and I'll have the perfect place." He then lay down for this hour's nap.

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"Very well my Queen-to-be. I just need to borrow a horse from the stables." - said Stewie as he turned around and left the room, and headed towards the exterior of the castle.

 

Outside was nice and sunny, along with a slight pleasant breeze. Stewie's blue uniform and cap shined in the sunlight, unlike in the slightly dimmer halls of the castle. Every janitor must keep his uniform in pristine quality! A small quota of small animals, distracted by the shinyness of Stewie's clothes, followed the janitor as he walked towards the stables, mop in hand. After strapping his trusty cleaning tool to his back, Stewie mounted a light gray steed and rode eastward.

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The Lord of Lunacy found it awfully boring sitting alone at the tea table without the company of the Cheshire Cat. So he jumped to his feet, smashing the chair he sat in against the table with great force. "Lovely", he thought, picking up one of the legs of the chair, balancing it on his thumb, "this'll make a most wonderful walking stick", and proceeded to stroll the halls, perusing the paintings on the wall, muttering to himself as he went along.

 

Eventually, after some amount of time had come to pass, the Lord of Lunacy happened upon a statue of the Queen's likeness. "How most admirable!", he proclaimed, surveying its length with curiosity, his eyes darting over every curve and detail. Upon looking at one of her arms, however, he frowned most disappointingly, running his wooden cane over it, allowing it to lean precariously. "Hmmm...", the statue began to tip; "now this here...is bad craftsmanship", and with a tap, it came crashing down. A complete and utter mess of marble was left to strewn the floor, completely ruined and unrecognizable. "Oh how marvelous! It's even better than ever!".

 

Delighted, he turned his head to a scrumptious aroma creeping in from the royal kitchen. "I wonder what the chef is cooking up today?", and with a sprig in his step, he was determined to find out.

Edited by Keanumoreira
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Knight-Commander, leader of the Queen's armies, frenetic paranoid sociopath. These were but a few titles which Sir Josh held, bu the last was the most true to his persona. His eyes darted around his chambers as he sipped a tea that only he had touched. "I dreamed again of.. giant mushrooms and.. and singing, gothic werewolves, and, and and and THINGS! Flying and.... Dragons, talking dragons and cat-women. It wasn't real I know it wasn't, poisoned... DRUGGED! Yes.. yes they drugged me... Had to have hehehe. Won't get me this time nonono! Don't eat nothing given to ya, don't drink nothing you didn't make yourself and you'll be fine. Fiiine Joshy will be fiiiine ehhehehehe."

A courier stood in the doorway watching the manic display before him. Thinking it best to stay far away from Knight commander he started to back away before he delivered his message. "Excuse me sir?" He spoke up and readied himself for whatever the Knight Commander's sick mind had in store for those that interrupted him.

"Yes how can I help you?" Josh asked after straightening himself up, presenting himself in a professional manner.

"Um.... You're presence is required in the Grand hall."

"Very well then. Thank you." Josh said before walking out behind his desk, revealing that he considered pants an optional clothing item.

"Might I suggest putting on some pants first Sir?" Said the Courier.

"You can." Josh said before completely ignoring the suggestion and walking out to the grand hall.

 

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The Royal Head Chef paced her quarters, opening up her icebox and pulling out a package of food she'd cooked long ago wrapped in a thick material she had invented, dubbed "plastic". She pulled at the bag, opening it after a struggle; her skinny arms were not the strongest in the world. The petite girl then arranged the small snacks on a plate and shoved it inside her enchanted cooking box, this one dubbed "microwave".

 

She'd already microwaved several items, and it would seem that her only item left was inside the box now. She glanced through the glass door as the snacks spun around. Testing the temperature of other foods she'd cooked, she decided they were cooked perfectly: frozen in the middle and piping hot around the edges.

 

She continued to bustle around the kitchen, her mouth silently moving as she whispered songs to occupy herself. Of course, these songs were just as strange as she was. She sung of metals and plastic, animals and shoes. She found herself dancing, her bare feet pattering on the floor, twirling her apron as if it were a skirt, as she wore men's trousers.

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The well-bustled Lady-in-Waiting hustled and bustled her somewhat ditzy way into the castle in a flurry of satin and chintz and Lord knows what else. She had unfortunately seen a picture off a distant relative of hers named Marie Louise of Savoy-Carignan who had served as lady-in-Waiting to some personage called Marie Antoinette from a distant land. For reasons unbeknownst to us she felt compelled to attire herself in a similar fashion. In addition, she had her hair done up in something resembling an overturned milk bucket festooned with ridiculous frippery and weighing at least 17 pounds.

 

Not only was she under considerable stress due to her late arrival, but some foolish unnamed constable had assaulted her on the way in and appeared to be attempting to drag down her bloomers. Oh my dear, the shock of it all. Now she was off to go somewhere and do her job... Wait... at least until it was time to help Her Ladyship undress after all of the festivities were over.

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Now attuned to the man...whom she knew now to be some kind of lawman...she listened to his internal monologue. The Goddess bristled on his shoulder at this thoughts, flapped her wings in irritation and pulled at his hood hoping to pull some hair.

 

"Caw Caw"

 

*Indigestion? From a blood sausage! I, human, am the Goddess of the Realm of the Nexus. You would do well to cower on your knees at my glory!!*

 

As if the universe was conspiring against her...the moment The Goddess spoke her words into the human's mind....she got a claw caught in his cape when she fluttered her wings. This caused it to wrap around the claw, tripping and trapping her. Struggling she flipped over upside-down and now back to back with the executioner. The Goddess let out the equivalent of a raven's surprised squall.

 

*Just don't stand there! Help me up!* The Goddess interjected while dangling from one large, black talon. Eyeballing her location, she hope desperately that the executioner's indigestion was as much a part of his mind as he though her to be.

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The Constable stared at the slippers offered to him with a slight look of uneasiness. He took them and looked down at his boots. The dark, polished leather shone dully and more than matched his armor. But these slippers were... ugly, to say the least. Plus it would be hilariously embarrassing to be seen with these slippers and his long socks poking over them. He could just imagine the rant that the Royal Fashion Advisor would go off on if she saw them.

 

He nodded his thanks to the Captain and gingerly slid his way to the side of the throne, just as a large plump cat slid its way to the foot of the throne. With a longing look, the cat jumped onto the seat, shredded the cushion, and lay amongst the tattered remains. The Constable watched with horror, before remembering his place.

 

"Oi, cat. Get down and shoo," he said, his gold eyes flashing with indignation. When the cat obviously ignored him, he drew his sword and placed the tip at the foot of the throne. The polished and unique blade reflected the cat in its surface. "Now, begone."

 

He waited, his patience growing ever thin.

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