The Marriage of Eruphel and Eron

Seaward Tower: Second Floor - Shrine of the Heroes

The Shrine of the Heroes is a newly-reclaimed chamber, not long given to this purpose, yet somehow it almost feels perfect. Like the Great Hall below, a great window here opens to the West--where fallen Numenor lies beneath the wave--and serves as the primary focus of worship. As all other things about the Seaward Tower, this chamber is severe and minimalist in its decor, yet somehow elegant in such simplicity.

The illumination here is provided strictly by the sun the oil-lamps are left out during the daylight hours. The only statuary in this shrine is sparse--white marble reliefs of Ar-Pharazon and Ar-Adunakhor--and mounted upon either wall. Three hard benches, with room for perhaps seven men abreast, face the window.

The late evening sun bursts through the sea facing windows of Seaward Tower's Hero Shrine, catching the walls and offering a warm glow to the room, as well as sparkling off of the statues that are the rooms center. Members of Seaward and House Hashikh mull about, socializing with one another as servants work the room with food and drink.

Soon the room is hushed, as booted feet begin their rhythmic drum upon stone floors. Those booted feet keep their rhythm as singing picks up, Low, mens voices singing of souls bonding and becoming stronger. The double doors of the Shrine are opened and a column appears. It's three men wide, and five men long. all wear gleaming chain, and carry long Halbeards with the standard of House Hashikh upon them.

 The room is parted by this column, as water is parted around stone. It continues towards the statues of the heroes, their song never skipping, and keeping time with marching boots. Striking the base of the statues, the column breaks as water would, circling around the statues until only one man is left.

Eron carries no Halbeard, but is no less the vision of war. His armor is tight, and his scabbarded weapon sharp and at the ready. The helm at his hip is a polished, golden thing that is as usefull as it is easy to gaze upon. The bow upon his back a polished yew, the arrows at his hip holding feathers of rare and exotic birds.

Lord Eron is arrived.

By the door to the Hall, not going inside or partaking of the food, stands a small figure wreathed in black. The High Priestess looks more solemn than usual and is without her usual retinue.

Eron's entrance is almost enough to erase the boredom already plain on a Farside Corsair, Abaza's, face. As the groom strides through the hall, he stifles a yawn, coughing quietly in his hand to mask it. After the man has passed, his eyes glaze over once more.

The priestess may be wearing black, but at least one of the guests, Alimah, is wreathed in scarlet silk, barely recognizable without her armor and weapons for a change. Also, her "distinctive" nose is covered by a red silk scarf that hides half her face.

        The Fleet Master of Seaward Tower and Lord of House Sikkiyn stands silently beside the Lords of House Pradhu and Ravihn. All three men watch the procession with empty expressions but as it moves forward, they whisper to each other. Mirdanath is by far the youngest of the three but he appears at home and relaxed alongside the two older men, no doubt long time friends of the family. And so, the masters of the three Great Houses of Seaward watch and wait for their Lady.

         Standing near the front of the room is the Gondorian slave Hayya, clean shaven and dressed in fine clothing. He is standing strait and tall with a golden bowl between his hands. The slave does not move he stands rigid and tall almost like a statue. His eyes are down staring strait into the bowl, unmoving.

The doors open wide, and a short procession enters, one at a time. Firstly a woman playing a whistleflute, followed immediately by a man carrying chimes and bells, the last tapping on an oversized drumhead with the middle finger and heel of his hand, alternatively. The trio take their place near the slave holding the bowl of ashes. Then there is a moment of pregnant expectation...of silent waiting...of doubt about whether the bride will actually step forth, or get cold feet. And then there she is, a picture of radiant beauty, reminiscent of the sun in an azure sky. She holds cradled in her arm a sceptre - symbolic of her station: a rod with brass snakes intertwining along the shaft, fighting over (or protecting) a blue stone. Lapis Lazuli, perhaps. And thus, after viewing those gathered in the shrine, and smiling happily, she proceeds slowly down the aisle, her train dragging behind so heavily that it makes a scraping sound along the blue carpet runner.

Behind the long train, Lady Farside solemnly follows. Her own dress is understated in comparison to brilliant sun that is Eruphel this day. Her form-hugging bodice is made from cloth of gold and long silken skirts flow from her narrow hips, dark purple in hue. Gold dangles from ears and wrists, while a pearl rests upon her brow, suspended from a thin fillet of gold.

After the bride has entered fully, Azradi slips inside the shrine to take her place near the statue of Ar-Pharazon. She offers a brief and subtle gesture of obeisance as she passes before it.

The slight high priestess's face is set in a frown and she begins to murmur under her breath in a strange, harsh language.

The impassive face of Eron brightens as Lady Eruphel enters. his eyes widen some as he sees her beauty, which is magnified even more than usual it would seem. He straightens his back, and places one arm behind his back as he waits paitiently for her to stan up with him. The Hashikh Warriors behind him all snap one at a time, their halbeard's steel shafts clashing against their left pauldrons, as the Lady passes them.

As their Lady enters, all three lords bow their heads respectively in her direction. Upon noticing the High Priestess prescence however all three mens' faces darken slightly. Mirdanath immediately lightens as he sees the Lady of Farside enter the room. A smile is given but his attentions are quickly returned to the couple about to be married.

The Lady Seaward pauses near a blue-clad scribe, and hands off her sceptre for him to hold, which he does cradled upon a pillow. Then she proceeds to greet Eron, taking his hands, and then positioning herself so they hold hands sideways to the bulk of the crowd. Behind their held hands, the slave holding the ash stands. She smiles broadly at him, then releases her grip, and turns to the bowl of ash, taking a pinch in her fingers. "These are the ashes of the ancestors, to remind us of whence we came, and to admonish us that they are watching." she murmurs, and draws a line of ash across her brow ceremoniously. She waits for Eron to do the same.

Eron seems uncomfortable, looking out towards the crowd and spotting Mara just outside the doors. "When you said bed wed before your hero's I didn't think we'd be ritualising it." He whispers, but he's not a good whisperer.. Apparently still not overly impressed with a Hero worshippers wedding.

his hands shake as he begrudgingly dips his finger's in The ashes of the long dead, and touches his head with it. not drawing a line, but leaving a thumbprint sized dot there. "I'll be punished for this." he says quietly to Eruphel. but his presence, and participation shows his love for Eruphel stronger than his Devotion to his faith.

Eruphel takes Eron's hands as he whispers, her brow furrowing for a moment, and then she turns to look out into the audience where Eron looked, and spies Mara. She presses her lips to a thin, determined line, then looks back at Eron and smiles, and leans forward to place a peck on the cheek, her appreciation for his sacrifice. "I hope you worked on your vow..." she whispers with a wry smile, then says more loudly, "I, Eruphel, before the gods of my fathers, and all these witnesses, do declare my love and devotion to Eron, Lord of House Hashikh. I take him into my house, and into my bed I pledge him support and and promise him fidelity for the rest of our lives." Then, she waits.

          Standing like a statue is the slave Hayya, as the ceremony continues he does not move, eyes down, staring into the ashes. Listening to the words spoken he breathes slowly unmoving.

Her words and actions calm him, but his discomfort meerly moves to his eyes, though his features maintain his conviction. "I Eron, Lord of House Hashikh, do declare my Love, and devotion to Lady Eruphel, Tower Lady of Seaward and High lady of the Council of Lords. I take her into my house, and into my bed. I pledge to her Fidelity, protection, and Heirs. I offer her my House to keep in my absence, and to warm in my presence. All this and more do I give freely to her, from now, until they day The Eye stops my heart." His faith is offered a small piece of this day, in a way only he can.

Azradi’s attention lies largely on the couple being wed, but when both glance to the entrance, her gray eyes follow. Upon sight of the Priestess, Azradi smiles, looking for all appearances as if she is glad to see the woman there. She inclines her brow respectfully, and returns her regard to Eruphel and Eron – where her smile grows.

There is a ... loud noise outside the building. A...loud noise and....the sound of...splatting?

Eruphel emits a sound of pleasure. Even mention of the Eye seems not to diminish her happiness, nor the exclusion of the Heroes. "A fine vow. Mine pales in comparison." she comments. "And all these things do I promise you as well," she says for the audience, then she releases her grip and pulls at the white cloth hanging from her hip. In a low voice, she now coaches him. "Now we must link arms, and tie a knot around them together. No one can help us." She puts out her hand, hand held open to hold his, and over that she drapes the middle of the white cloth.

        The Lords of the Great Houses of Seaward continue to watch the ceremony. The face of Lord Pradhu flinches slightly when the Eye is mentioned but a quick look from the master of House Ravihn causes the man to return to his regular stoic expression. The sound of splatting immediately grabs the attention of the Fleet Master however and he turns to look for the source of the noise.

Eron raises a brow at the strong notion of tying their arms together. "Very well." he says, offering up his arm to hers as he reaches for one end of the white cloth. The splatting noises catch his attention though. He looks to his armed retinue. "Go. Nothing shall interupt us until both our masters are satisfied with our union." he says, and several of the armed Hashikh warriors leave to find the culprit of the noises.

Alimah, too, twists about, her attention at least temporarily distracted from the ceremony by the noise outside. She watches toward the door for the moment.

An even more sour expression on her face, the slight high priestess steps just enough into the chapel to avoid what's going on outside. Her arms are crossed.

Mutually gripping each other's forearm, the Lord and Lady begin to tie the knot. Eruphel coaches quietly. "Run it over, loop it under, and over again, now that's three loops altogether. Hook it under my thumb..." She tucks her end of the cloth under the gripping thumb of Eron's tying hand "and then back together in the middle. She lays hers over and waits to exchange her end with Eron's end. Its hard to do without prior practice, and more than a little silly...a little fun. Eruphel giggles once at something awkward. But at long last, the cloth is tied in the first, and then the second pass, making a double knot. Together they pull the ends tight. Even that takes timing.

Eron works with Eruphel to finish tying the knot, her coaching muchly required, as the soldier inside of him boils with irritation at the disturbance outside. once it's tied, Eron smiles widely, and positions his body so the crowd can see it better, raising their tied hands to show their union as it's physical form.

If Eruphel noticed the wet, splappy sounds outside the door, she never showed it before now. But as they stand facing the crowd, their arms linked and tied, she seems a little concerned, now. She beckons to the scribe that held the sceptre, and he steps forward to hand it back to her. This, she tries to hand off to Eron, so they may proceed down the aisle once more, together.

Eron accepts the sceptre, clutching it in his spare hand in a guy kind of way, rather than cradling it, and together the two walk back down the aisle, abreast. Along the way, wellwishers put out hands to touch, or loudly congratulate, or throw petals in celebration, as the mood strikes them.

Taking a handful of petals from a nearby attendant, Azradi tosses them towards the couple with a light laugh. “Do not let that bond break ere it is time!” she teases.

The splatting distracts her, though, as much as it does the others. She glances out the western windows for a moment.

A bit of slime trickles down the windows and...the noise continues. The slight high priestess frowns and then, pulling herself up higher, walks, then runs outside to see what's causing it.

          Finally the statue that was Hayya moves, slightly. Looking towards the splattering sound and then quickly back to his Mistress and her new husband, slowly scanning the crowd with his eyes.

  Slowly Hayya turns around and sets the golden bowl upon the table behind him, continuing to hear the splattering sound he looks to the crowd and then back towards the windows, and then like a flash the large slave runs to the windows to see what is causing the sound.

The Lords of Seaward now looks to each other and speak quietly as the procession now makes its way out of the shrine. All three appear more curious than concerned but remain still for the moment save for resting their hands on the scimitars at their sides.

Eruphel turns, smiling, as the crowd presses in slightly, making progress to the door difficult. She turns to look at Azradi, smiling, and also catches the eye of her Fleetmaster.

As Hayya nears the window he looks out and his face goes into a look of shock and he says in a loud voice "It.. It.. It is rainingfrogs Mistressfrogs" the sound of his voice goes in and out and he tries to say it aloud.

Not a day for silks and now swords, apparently," Alimah mutters to herself as Mara runs out the doorway. She searches through the crowd, trying to catch Azradi's eye.

One of Eron's guards comes up the stairs and hiding behind him, white faced, is the slight High Priestess of Nurn and Umbar. She appears to be clinging to the guard's shirt and, whatever it is that she's muttering under her breath, it is neither intelligible nor Haradaic.

Lady Farside’s brow furrows as she notes the bit of slime. Around her, a murmur arises from the crowd as other’s begin to notice something odd is going on outside.

Catching Alimah’s eye, the lady moves to join her. “Frogs?” she queries, glancing first to her corsair Captain and then to the Seaward slave. “You must be mistaken.”

  Pointing to the window Hayya says once again "Unless my eyes deceive me, I mean no disrespect..But it truly is... raining... Frogs.."

Eruphel's face turns...surprised. Even shocked. And as the wedding guests become disturbed, or even alarmed, she looks at Eron, who seems angry...unreadable. Then she notices one of the men in House Hashikh's colors, with the small High Priestess clinging to him. "Your Excellency," she calls out over the growing din, in her strong, towerlord voice. "What is happening?"

Nodding to the newly wed Lady Eruphel, the Fleet Master now moves casually away from his companions to the hall where Seaward guards are stationed. Pointing to one, he speaks "You two go up to the roof and see whats going. Its probably some idiot chucking something from the roof but regardless report immediately back to me. You three head down to the courtyard and see if you can figure out whats this slime is about from down there." Now the commander waits and turns in the meanwhile to see the arriving procession coming towards his new location in the hallway.

          The Lords of House Ravihn and Pradhu appear to find the situation somewhat amusing as they begin to chuckle. But perhaps it is over some other matter?

Azradi makes her way through the crowd immediately upon sight of the Priestess and guard. “Yes,” she echoes Eruphel, “Is it truly raining frogs?”

The slight high priestess's voice is less...echo-y, less scary than usual. "I...prayed for you and Eron. For both of you, that the Dark Lord might bring his blessings to you both that you would see the blessings He brings." Managing to bring her hands back to herself, the slight woman clings to her robe more tightly. "And then...there was this noise and...frogs. Apparently the Dark Lord wished that ... this be His message."

"Frogs." Eruphel says, her face a mixture of worry, discomfort, maybe a little fear, but mostly rage at a ruined wedding. She looks around at the chaos of the guests with determination, though her eyes seem lost. "Do not be alarmed, my guests! There will be feasting tonight, many fine and exotic foods, and the Eye has generously provided us with our main course! But please, remain inside. Make yourselves at home, and stay the night."

”Eruphel,” Azradi begins, turning to the lady of Seaward. Her voice is loud enough to carry through the room though the tone is cleverly conversational. “Near Aglarrama, there is a tribe of people who live in the marshy lands of the coast. To them, the frog is a symbol of fertility. It appears both the Heroes and the Dark Lord wish to bless your union, my friend.”

"Frog legs!" Alimah offers with a small laugh. "I must see this for myself. I wonder if frogs stain silk..." So musing, she makes her way out of the room, presumably to watch frogs fly.

Eruphel turns to Azradi, appreciating the attempt to disarm the situation. "Help clear me a path, so we can get out the door and cut the bonds." she says, glancing over at the Seaward Officers.

The clamberly of metal hitting against itself can soon be heard as the soldiers sent to the roof to see what was going on, rush down the stars from the top of the Tower. "My Lord, there are frogs raining falling like rain! I've never seen the like before! Certainly an Ill omen for sure!" The Fleet Master now is deeply concerned and motions for the other two Lords to come with him. Once the three men assemble, they once again discuss things quietly but none are impressed with the current occurance. "The Eye is not pleased. There is no other reasonable explanation. Let us pray to the heroes and hope that they forgive those that have sinned."

          Hearing the command of the Lady Eruphel, the Fleet Master summons more guards to him as he re-enters the room and begins to push open a passage through the alarmed crowd for his Lady and her newly married husband. The Lords of the other two Houses now seek their own honour guards and leave the scene quite concerned.

Muttering darkly, the slight high priestess holds herself up fully. "Clearly I am no longer welcome here. This is the last thing I will do here. It is time I moved on."

Sighing, Azradi shoots a dark glance to the soldier who has just undone her attempts at calming the crowds. As the Seaward Fleet Master clears a path for the bride and groom, Lady Farside steps into the room a few steps. Raising her voice, she smiles at those gathered. “Let us give Lady Eruphel and her husband a moment to retire and then we can all make our way to the dining hall. I believe a repast worthy of this august union awaits us there.”

This task completed, she turns back to the doorway and to the High Priestess, appearing to be on the verge of speaking to her. Mara’s mutterings stop her for several long moments, then she ventures to say, her voice privately quiet. “And I was about to thank you for coming.”

The slight high priestess wraps her arms around herself and straightens, though there is a tinge of grey beneath her pallor. "It is good that you have done what is best for your friend."

Azradi frowns slightly, looking uncertain of the Priestess’ meaning. “Your friendship and your presence are important to Eruphel,” she says, as if that explained something.

The Farside lady studies the small woman closer. “You do not look well,” she observes and then glances around, noting the absence of the usual escort. “If you are intent on leaving, do you need escort? I can lend my personal guard to see you safely home.”

”Of course, that is only if you wish to leave. I am sure Lady Seaward would enjoy your company if you stayed. For that matter, it might be better if you stayed even if you do not feel up for company. A room can be made for you?”

In a curious and uncharacteristic gesture, Azradi pats the arm of the small Priestess and nods solemnly. “It will be done.” Then the pair leave the proximity of the shrine, trailing after the last of the guests.

It is a bit more chaotic than originally planned, but with the help of some House and some Seaward guards, the newlyweds press to the door of the shrine, and out. In the corridor, with the door still open and the guests can see, Lord Eron produces a knife, and cuts one of the loops of the cloth, freeing the couple, though the knot is preserved by a nearby scribe. In their wake, the Steward speaks up, in essence echoing the Lady's earlier words. "If the wedding guests will stay the evening, there will be food, laughter, and merriment. And when you tire, we ask you to find a servant or slave, and they will assist you in finding a bed. Now if you please, the main hall is being set with tables and food." Some guests find comfort, some echo the disquiet that the Eye is displeased. But eventually, everyone finds their way out of the Shrine.