forum A Thing You Won't Remember

Started September 18, 2022 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

This will be hilarious once discovered.

Name: Prince Romulus of House Vespasian. Prefers to go by Rom if given the choice. Known on the battlefield as Caesar.
Age: 25
Magic: Has been gifted with magic resistance, meaning he can't be enchanted or charmed, but that's all.
Weapons: Whatever he can get his hands on. He usually carries a set of daggers, each about a foot long, but he's big enough to not really need them often.
Appearance: Rom is 6'6"/2m tall and weighs roughly 300lbs/136kg, making him pretty muscular and imposing. He keeps his platinum blonde hair cut short around the sides and back, but roughly 6" long on top, usually rocking a fauxhawk. His eyes are an icy blue, and his left one has a large scar running diagonally across it down to his cheek, limiting his vision in that eye. He has a square jaw and a Roman nose, and was considered handsome at one point, before multiple breaks to his facial bones messed him up. Usually he can be found wearing his armor under clothes that only mark his royalty through their colors. He tends towards black, grey, and red in his other clothing choices, colors which contrast with his pale complexion. Rom would rather fight or screw than just about anything else. This has left his upper body covered in small scars, which aren't super visible on his pale skin until you're up close. He typically wears trousers of micro-chain mail over his black boots. His helmet is a classic Centurion's helmet, with some modifications. It has no plume; there is an open strip over the top of his head, and his fauxhawk sticks out as the plume. It also has metal strips connecting the two side pieces to cover his face, up to his eyes, which he leaves visible. There is a visor that covers his eyes if he needs it. The entire helmet is black and highly reflective, made of an osmium/titanium alloy. The helmet can be collapsed down to just a collar, with plates covering his face up to the eyes.
Personality: Romulus is a big personality. Loud, obnoxious, and often rude, he is a very typical royal in his tendencies to get into fights and asusme women will just fawn over him. He enjoys the soldiering aspect of leading, but is ill-equipped for the diplomacy or court requirements of a king. He often plays stupid to throw people off, but is an intelligent strategizer and schemer.
Other: His boots are actually greaves that extend up to his knee when in a fight. He also wears gauntlets which come up to his elbows. These are the made of the same black osmium/titanium alloy. They double as armor and weapons, but are tiring to use, which is why Romulus is so strong.
He also really doesn't want the throne, but knows it is expected of him.

Name: Princess Elitia Callistar, crown princess, and heir to the Venian throne. She goes by Elia.
Age: 21
Magic (if any): fire magic
Weapons: her words, her body, her magic
Appearance: Elitia has jet black hair that runs down her back in soft waves and warm brown eyes. Her skin is naturally tan and baby smooth. She uses oils and lotions daily on her skin. She stands at about 5'5, average for a woman. Her skin is unmarked. However, she has a birthmark on her hip.
Personality: Elitia doesn't put up with crap. She knows her worth and won't accept anything less. She'll call you out on your bs and correct you where you stand. She is a strong and confident woman, and a holder of many secrets. She knows how to play the game of thrones and she'll do whatever is necessary to win. She won't let anything or anyone stand in her way.
Other: She had to change her name to Elia to avoid suspicion. A random girl found in the woods with the name Elitia, same as the princess which family just git slaughtered, would have been a give away.

Elia lounged on a couch in the lobby, surrounded by the sounds of desperate men who had to pay someone to get laid. She hadn't found herself interested in working today, and she brought in the most revenue of all the girls and boys, so she was practically given free rein. Madame Rosette had quickly learned that men enjoyed fucking a woman who had the coloring and similar name to one of the dead princesses. If only they knew. Elia found it absolutely repulsing but there was nothing she could do about it. She owed a debt, one that would likely never be paid off. And a brothel was really the only place a woman could work, especially one of her coloring. Many of the Venian people were reduced to peasants and slaves, to make room for the people of their conquerors. Working in the brothel, she at least had some control over what she did. And she knew how to be safe and prevent unwanted consequences.
One of the newer girls ran into the brothel, having recently been to the market on a supply run. There was a bright smile on her face as she hushed with her friends. They all erupted into giggles. Elia peered up from the book she was reading but quickly dismissed it. Likely some drama in town.
"That is enough, girls," Madame Rosette appeared at the staircase. She descended the stairs to them. "Now, what is the meaning of this."
The girl, Mary, stepped forward. "The crown prince is coming to town. He's not but a mile away. Do you think he will stop here? I've always wanted to be with a prince."
Several other girls joined in the chorus, speaking over one another, talking about dressing in their finest clothes and doing their hair, just for a chance to meet a prince.
"Enough!" Madame Rosette said. The brothel came to silence, save for the few noises of pleasures coming from rooms deeper within. "If the prince is coming, it is likely he will make a visit. Girls, I want this place spotless. Prepare the King's Suite." A sick joke, really, to name their best rooms that, but who was Elia to complain?
The girls all jumped into motion, the ones that weren't occupied, however. But Elia did not move, nor did she even look up from her book. Deep down she was terrified. There was no way he would recognize her, she had only been nine when she escaped the palace. Yet there was that sinking fear, that despite everything she had done, she would be discovered.
"Elia, you do know that includes you too?"
She set the book down in her lap. "Those girls are going to be tripping over each cleaning and getting ready. I'd rather stay out of their way." She turned a page in her book.
Madame Rosette gave her a disapproving look. "I still expect you to look your best. You're my most expensive girl. For a prince, I can charge triple your amount. Now go."
She sighed but placed her book mark in her book and left to her room, the best room a girl there could be given, and got ready.

The Haradrim were always an impressive group to behold in motion. Whether riding the massive Oliphaunt warbeasts, the conquered Wulves, or even the fiery horses from the desert sands, they always managed to cut a handsome figure. Some Harad leaned into this impressive reputation, using it to enhance their otherwise plain appearances. And some Harad did not need help looking impressive.
Prince Romulus Vespasian was one such man. 6'6" in his socks, 300lbs of solid muscle, scarred and still somehow handsome despite the fights and the years. 25, in the prime of his youth, virile and vital and full of life. Loud, boisterous, with a casual confidence that came from never having completely lost a fight in his life. Covered in black armor that did nothing to hide the rippling muscle underneath, riding a huge Wulf with fur dyed red, and surrounded by 30 of the very impressive Haradrim who served him…
Romulus was every inch the Crown Prince as he came into town.

A fact he absolutely hated.

Maybe Lakeside could help him forget for a bit. The town was one of the bigger ones in this side of the country, and Romulus had been told to stay for a couple of days and make friends of the people. Father's advisors seemed to think if he was popular with the people, he would have an easier time eventually taking the throne. Romulus had sneered at them, wondering how they could think a recently conquered people would ever warm up to the boisterous brat of their conquering enemy, but they had sent him out just the same. So here he was.
Ah, well. Time to make the most of it.
"Lear, you know what I'm looking for." He called to his lieutenant, an equally young and impressive man on a horse near him. "Find me the bars, the brothels, and the bare-knuckle fights."
Ruv nodded, and took off into town, a grin smeared across his face. Working for Romulus had been a long job for him, and the Prince always knew how to party.

(feel free to include Lear in conversations and talk for him, he's a 'shareable' NPC)

(Okie.)

Elia dressed in her finest wear. A satin, black gown that hugged her curves and showed off her figure. Her hair was in a half-up hairstyle, pieces braided back and pinned with jeweled clips. She used kohl to line her eyes, a pink creme to add color to her cheeks, and deep red painted on her lips. She grabbed her matching black robe, a gauzy material that showed just enough and yet not enough. She slipped her feet into her slippers and left the room.
She was almost trampled by one of the younger girls, naive enough to think a prince will come and steal her away. Oh to be young and naive again. Elia had long since learned to grow up. She poured herself a glass of red wine and headed back to the couch she had claimed. She draped herself on it, yet this time purposefully, seductively. She picked back up her book, opened the page she had been on, and began reading. She took small sips of her wine.
She barely acknowledge Madame Rosette, who was now dressed in her finest clothes. Cloth imported from across the sea. Her corset pulled so tight her breasts looked almost ready to spill out. She looked beautiful, despite her chest. Though some men seemed to prefer that on the Madame. "Try not to be reading if the prince arrives."
"What if he likes an intelligent woman? Perhaps he'll be more inclined to talk about his worries if he believes I'll understand." Elia retorted. Because, oh, did men talk to her. They spoke to her of their troubles, their wives, their children. But most importantly, they told her their secrets. They told her things they had never spoken to another soul. She knew things that could end live or perhaps, even cripple the kingdom. She had no desire to do so, but holding these secrets made her powerful.

Lear had checked through Lakeside, and had his results. 3 bars, 1 fight pit, and only 1 brothel worth mentioning, according to the townsfolk. He was headed there now.
A tall building in the same shady section of town as the fight pit, Madame Rosette's Coquettes was an unassuming 3 story house, with nothing to mark it as a brothel but the brightly painted hanging sign on the porch, and the steady stream of people in an out. Lear took note that men and women both were coming in and out looking satisfied, which meant the place had boys as well as girls. A business minded woman, very good.
He stepped inside, and was met with the smell of sex and cheap perfume. There was an older woman, clearly the matron of the establishment, standing there scolding a much younger, prettier girl.
"Madame Rosette, I presume?" Lear said officiously.
It was a personal goal of his to always treat brothel owners with respect. You never knew when you might need a cheap whore.

Elia's eyes moved to the newcomer. She hadn't seen this one before, and with the way he was dressed, surely he was nobility or part of an entourage. Some of the girls and boys poked their heads out, viewing him, but all were subtle. Madame Rosette had threatened the harshest punishments for anyone that inserted themselves or looked to desperate. They wanted to be inviting, welcoming, a safe place. Not clingy and fighting over one another.
She lowered the book to her lap, still reading. This put her view of their newcomer and she was better able to watch and observe. She took a sip of her wine, noticeably checking out the man before her attention returned to the book in her lap. A history book, of all things. The start Venia. She had read it when she was a little girl but never truly enjoyed it. Now that she was older, she had a knack for history.
"You presume correctly," Madame Rosette smiled at the man in front of her. "How can I be of service to you, Ser…?"

Lear grinned, a charming, disarming expression, and bowed low to the ground. "Lear, madame, just Lear, pleased to make your acquaintance." He stood and looked around approvingly. "I've been told this is the place to come for a good romp. I can only assume you've heard that Prince Romulus of House Vespasian is coming through town." He glanced at Elia, then at the few faces peeking out at him. "He has sent me ahead to make arrangements for him to spend a good bit of his time here. Can I assume he would be welcome?"
Lear knew full well that in her heart, Madame Rosette likely hated the Harad Prince. But her wallet would not allow that hatred to show. The girls, and indeed, the boys that Romulus would bed this week would be in the same boat, having to masquerade love for a person they probably hated more than their usual customers.
It was a fact that had made Lear sad for his boisterous liege, on more than one occasion.

"Of course," Madame Rosette bowed her head, "The prince is welcome here any time. We have had the King's Suite prepared for his arrival. Is there anyone you would like for me to send in preparation, or shall the His Highness choose when he arrives?"
Elia wanted to roll her eyes but she schooled her features. What a suck-up. She held no love for the prince and his family. There are many here that held no love either. But there were also a great many that were foolish and adored their new royal family. They had been sucked in their own little bubble in the brothel and refused to look outside and see the damage. And, of course, there were the few that believed Venians deserved what has happened to them. She once, perhaps, would have wanted to gut them. But these days, she has learned to accept her position. There was no point of useless violence. She would enjoy herself while she still lived. She believed that one day, death would catch up to her, angry she had evaded him. But that day had not come and she would live how she saw fit, even if she was stuck in a brothel.

Lear continued to smile. "I'm sure whatever rooms you have will be adequate. A few details: 1. There will be guards. 2. The Prince will choose who he beds when he gets here. 3. I cannot give you a definite time for his arrival, and he'll likely be in and out regularly. And 4. Don't call him 'your majesty', 'your highness', or anything like that. If you must use a title, 'My Prince' will do fine, but he would honestly prefer you to call him nothing."
Romulus sincerely hated all of that garbage, and was on a first name basis with his inner circle of guards. He didn't spread his name around a lot, but it was out there, and people knew.
Lear took one more look around. "I can also assure you that you will be paid above and beyond for your troubles, as well as garnering extra business from the guards and the inevitable gaggle of strays and fans the Prince will pick up." His smile grew as he turned to leave. "In other words, we will make this worth your while, Madame Rosette." He mounted his horse and bowed from the saddle. "'Till we meet again, lovely lady."