• Closed • The Family Tree

[Peake]

85th of Zida, 716

The arc was coming to an end, and those that had made it so far now had the chance to look back and admire. Some admired mistakes, other admired feats. Some did so melancholically, and other did so joyfully, for each person was as different as their stories. Today, the story was delivered in the form of an envelope. Hundreds of hands had manipulated it already, had left their greasy fingerprints secretly imprinted in the paper, yet the eye could only make out the black paper, the silver laces that wrapped it, and the crimson wax seal that stamped it. This was obviously not a regular envelope, nor did it come from a regular individual. All the glory, the arrogance and the power of the Dragon was meant to live within the envelope, and it did, in its own way. The Moseke Knights and the Xiur Skyriders that took it offered great care whilst handling it, and some even fantasized about the secrets that laid within it.
From hand to hand, from bag to bag, and from skies to soil, the envelope traveled all the way to Sabaissant, for there laid the one worthy of tearing thorough the paper. A man chosen by his skills, perhaps, or perhaps by fate itself to gape at the contents within as much as he liked.

That man was, obviously, Tristan Venora.

Within the envelope, a folded paper would greet him, once again sealed with the red wax and the Dragon’s stamp.

Tristan Venora,

Tales of your talent spread throughout Our Great Kingdom, and many dare call you the Legend of the Three-Dimensional Visual Art – title I have been personally reassured is rightfully granted to you by the general populace, or at least those that possess a keen interests towards admiring beauty. So positive are the opinions regarding your work, in fact, that even Us at the Noble House Andaris feel surprised for such talent to arise outside of our city’s limits.

Lulled by the popular word, a decision has been made, and with the pending union of Andaris and Venora blood throughout marriage, I would like to grant you, and you only, the exclusive honor of lending your services for your artwork to be preserved for posterity, until the end of times, within House Andaris. This honor has not been granted to any member of the Noble House of the Rose in over thirty Arcs, and therefore I urge you to consider it.

Without wishing to bring back horrid memories of the past, I must say that you certainly recall the recent civil unrest suffered within our Noble Kingdom, for the blood of the general populace was spilled, in vain, for the unmeasured greed of sly snakes. You may also remember the frame of the one man, the one individual, whom spilled sweat and blood for the defense of Our Kingdom. Said individual is my son, Peake Maxos Andaris, and with his efforts he has not only won the love and respect of the serfs, but also the utmost honor of being a True Hero of the Noble House of Andaris.

Because of this, and for the sake of the coming generations, we wish to have his glorious presence sculpted in stone, to be admired, touched, and used as a role-model of what House Andaris stands for within Our Kingdom.
Meet us the ninetieth of this season within House Andaris, and your work will forever be admired within House Andaris. You will be provided stone, utensils, and tools if you request so. You will be given full control over what sort of direction you wish your work to take, with the only condition that you add your signature at the bottom of its front side, and, of course, the obvious detail that you may not take the piece with you whenever it is finished.

Sincerely,
Benji Bronson Andaris.

[/align]

[Tristan Venora]

The envelope that found its way into Tristan’s hands one cold Zi’da trial looked quite suspicious. Not that it wasn’t a nice envelope. He had just never received a black one before. As he made his way into his room to open it, he wondered if somebody had died, and if that was why they had used black paper, and then he dismissed that thought again immediately. None of his friends and acquaintances had been sick recently.

The mystery only deepened as he inspected the wax seal. Andaris. What did House Andaris want from him? The only Andaris that he was reasonably close to was Daliane. At least they had been somewhat close until Daliane had decided not to show up for the premiere of his play which had been a huge problem since Daliane had been supposed to play the leading role. But Daliane wouldn’t write him, he’d just come over for a visit. So who else could the letter be from? Celeste? Quincy? Peake?

He shook his head because all those possibilities seemed completely ludicrous to him, sat down at his desk, poured himself a glass of wine because everything was better with Venora Rose and broke the seal. With each word that he read his eyes widened a little more until they seemed to be as big as saucers. The letter was from Peake. Or rather, it was from Peake’s father which was almost the same as far as he was concerned. Benji Andaris, he noticed, liked to capitalize nouns and pronouns, especially if they referred to him. It was a tendency he’d already observed in other important people.

Benji’s writing style and the fact that he was apparently the Legend of the Three-Dimensional Visual Art now (honestly, couldn’t they have come up with a cooler nickname?) weren’t the only things that caught his attention though. Benji Andaris apparently wanted him to make a sculpture of his son who was a hero now (Why did nobody ever call him a hero? He’d risked his life on that mission to Ne’haer!).

He nearly choked on his wine as he read the words ‘glorious presence’ and ‘bottom’ and wondered how he could possibly keep things from becoming awkward, embarrassing and dangerous. And then he realized that that was probably not what Lord Andaris meant and that he was unlikely to be confronted with a naked Peake lounging on a marble pedestal and demanding to have his gloriousness immortalized in stone (although Benji had written something about giving him full control).

Did Benji even know that he’d already made a sculpture of his son once? There had been an article in the Gazette, but that had been months before. Seven, he hoped not. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to look the man in the eye in that case and justify what he had done. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to make a naked sculpture of one of the most dangerous men in Rynmere and then put it where everybody could see it?

Oh right, he remembered, because he liked nothing more than to engage in awkward, inappropriate and at least mildly dangerous activities and rarely thought about the consequences of his actions!

He briefly considered not accepting the job because it could only go wrong. But then it occurred to him that refusing a man like Benji Andaris would be pretty much career suicide (it wasn’t as if he had given him the option anyway, the letter sounded like an order). Besides, it had been a while since he had seen Peake in person. He wondered how the real Peake Andaris would compare to his glorious masterpiece.

<><><><><>

Since Benji had written that he would supply him with stone and tools, Tristan didn’t bring anything but his notebook and a pen in case he needed to take notes – and himself, of course. Considering who he would be dealing with he thought it would be best to arrive in style rather than walking like a peasant, and thus he retrieved his horse from the stable. He would ride, just like a proud and proper noble lord.

He was also dressed like a proud and proper noble lord, in an elegant suit of black and olive (the colour of the season) with a fine fur-lined cloak draped across his shoulders to ward off the bitter Zi’da cold.

Perhaps, he thought as he rode up to House Andaris (slowly since he was not a very good rider) and dismounted, this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Peake would entertain him with stories about his experiences during the war while he made the sculpture. That thought brought a smile to his face. He loved to hear stories about the war, the more violent and bloodier, the better.

He remembered how Aeon had told him about his encounter with the two headed hound that had taken his eye and his hand. He’d made a sculpture of the monster afterwards, with two people sitting on its back because he’d gotten the impression that it was big enough to ride from Aeon’s story.

Once his horse had been dealt with, he walked up to the door and knocked. Once it had been opened, he would ask whoever greeted him, “Could you please tell Baron Andaris that Tristan Venora has arrived and take me to him?”

[Peake]

Tristan was immediately met with a bowing servant, whom bowed her head towards him and swiftly opened the doors for the Lord, afterwards guiding him towards one of the wings of the enormous, and quite glorious as well, Andaris Manor. By the amount of luxury, detail, and the perfection of every single detail within, one could almost see the Andaris Family’s arrogance seeping through the walls.

The Venora would be taken to a large room, which was split into both a dining room, obvious by the gigantic table that occupied half the room, and a sort of living hall gathered around a fiery fireplace. Atop the table many plates with desserts, pastries and various refreshments waited to seduce the eye, even their shapes as immaculate as every inch of the mansion – or so had been intended, at least. What remained now was a formless chaos of crumbs, and a rather disgusting conglomerate of remains left behind by a pig. It was also important to note how ravenously the nobleman was devouring all the sweet treats.

Peake Andaris was a changed man, of that there was no doubt. Ever since his retirement from the public life since his injury, the man’s rage began building up inside him. Having all the time in the world, and being an extremist in all the tasks he took in his life, his physical body was surely as intimidating as his ravenous mentality. In the three seasons he had been gone, Peake Maxos Andaris had gained over a hundred pounds of weight, and what was once an admirable physique was now the epitome of perfection. Women would no longer leer, but instead swoon and orgasm even if the bearded male only crept in their peripheral vision. Not only women, of course, but men, animals, and Immortals too would be seduced by the Dragon, for he was in the best shape of his life.

A circle. It was the perfect shape, was it not?

Peake glanced towards his guest wide open eyes, and quickly controlled his attack of gluttony. Standing tall once again, an impressive height nonetheless, the nobleman would quickly cleanse his palms with the help of his white shirt. Even the shirt, large by default to fit a specimen like himself, was unable to hide the hairy belly that hanged outside the shirt no matter how much it’s owner had tried to tuck it in. There was no way to tuck that in. Meanwhile, the two servants that stood watch over the nobleman shook their head – mentally, of course.
“Ah!” exclaimed the Baron with his affable tenor. “You must be the sculptor! Trident Venora, right?”

The beast approached as best as it could, his missing lower left leg now being replaced with an extremely elegant metal prosthetic, which despite being shaped like a black and silver dragon, still showed the difficulty the male had in maintaining a good gait. The elegant but sturdy cane helped. A greasy palm was extended towards the guest, which would receive the sculptor’s hand in a firm handshake - if he was brave enough to imbue his hand with cream and syrup, that is.
“I’ve heard great things about your work, Trident. I am definitely a fan of your craft.”

Someone scoffed behind him, and so Peake looked over his shoulder, exposing his missing right ear. His eyes landed on his two ‘babysitters’, as he called them. One of them was an old pompous male, which stood behind a wheelchair – Peake’s worst enemy. The other male was far less fancy, and despite wearing a suit, he also carried an elegant sword and a smirk on his lips. To call him Peake’s bodyguard would not be very accurate, for said male was there to protect others from Peake, which was quite the opposite of a bodyguard. Would that make him a guardbody? A draugydob?

Looking forth once more, Peake smiled to his guest.
“Do you want something to eat? We’ve got great cooks here in Andaris. Great cocks, too. HAH!”
He laughed, alone.
“You can order on the way, that’s okay. Let’s go see the Hall of Heroes, where we hold House Andaris’ most important mementos, and the sculptures of our greatest individuals. I bet you’ll love it. Just a moment, please.”

Peake then turned back around, and moved towards the display of pastries. His rehabilitation team had placed him on a diet, but said diet was apparently as cheated as the females Peake had promised to make Queens. Too many. Grabbing a handful of those destroyed pastries, the Baron would ungracefully shove them into his maws, cream and syrup smearing all over his beard, which perhaps could hide the fact that it’s size had been greatly diminished after being partially amputated by the beast. He would’ve preferred to lose his cock rather than his facial manhood.
“Let’s go,” he said with his mouth full.

Peake lead the way out the room and back into the large halls of Andaris Manor. His broken gait assured Tristan that they would take quite a while to reach their destination, and so he’d have the occasion to divert his gaze into whatever detail called for his attention. As such, the halls were cleared of any of the service crew that made sure the Andaris glory was as chaste as it deserved. The two servants followed after the noblemen, of course, as heard by the squeaking sound caused by one of the wheels from the wheelchair – sound that deepened the frown present in Peake’s features. It was also important to note that whilst he stuffed his face with the pastries, quite a considerable amount of said baked goods fell over his shirt and into the fine carpet below, contaminating the so carefully maintained environment mercilessly. Someone would clean up after him, no problem.
“Ignore those two cocksuckers behind us, if you will. My father insists someone looking after me, as if I were a boy.” He grunted. “So! How’s the outside world looking? Did someone break the Boy King’s neck yet?”

[Tristan Venora]

The Andaris Manor, Tristan decided, looked really nice, and he found himself growing quite envious of the Baron. He wanted to have such a house as well and flaunt his wealth! Perhaps, he decided, he would use the money he had earned with his sculptures and his plays to have a palace built rather than spending it on wine and prostitutes and occasionally giving it to the poor. And then he would invite Peake so that the man would envy him!

While most of the house looked nice, the dining room looked as if a horde of pigs had trampled right through it. Considering that Tristan knew at least one Andaris that kept a pig as a pet that might be what had actually happened. Maybe Peake kept a whole harem of sows somewhere, dressed them in silk and velvet, shared his meals with them and gave them nicknames.

He pulled his gaze away from the mess on the table that looked like an animal had half-digested it and then thrown it up again and began to search for the members of the Suidae family in question. Instead of a group of even-toed ungulates his eyes found a man however. For a moment Tristan just stared at Peake, the same way that Peake stared at him.

Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined the sight in front of him! The real Peake exceeded his expectations by far. He was a great man in every sense of the word, especially when it came to his midsection that looked as if he could easily fit a whole pig into it. And he was so hairy! The young man was suddenly hyper-aware of his own slender physique and lack of proper manly and warming body hair. Why, there was probably room for two or three of him in Peake’s belly alone!

And his hands! He considered offering the man a handkerchief so that he could clean his hands, but by the time he reached into his pocket, Peake had already put his shirt to good use. Tristan wondered whether he should look at him disapprovingly, but decided that there was nothing wrong with being practical. He hoped that Peake washed his clothes sometimes though. No, he probably had them washed. There was no way that a man like him would do his own laundry – which made him wonder why Faith expected him to!

Realizing that he had been staring at him rather than answering his question, he cleared his throat. He had just opened his mouth when it occurred to him that the man had used the wrong name. “My name is actually Tristan”, he thus informed him. “But you may call me ‘Trident’ nevertheless. I always found my real name a bit boring. I apologize for the fact that I don’t have a funny nickname for you by the way. If you have any suggestions, then by all means tell me. And yes, I’m the sculptor.”

“This is not one of mine though, is it?” he asked and pointed at Peake’s prosthetic leg. He barely paused to take a breath before he continued, “I’m branching out and making prosthetics as well now. Teeth, hands, legs, you name it. I’m going to make a new hand for my acquaintance Aeon next because the two headed hound ate his real one.”

He wanted to say more when Peake mentioned that he was a fan of his craft. He abruptly closed his mouth. His eyes widened, and then he coughed as if he were choking before he asked, “Which of my works of art have you seen so far?” His face that was normally rather pale had taken on an interesting red tinge. Had Peake watched the tournament in Warrick and visited his exhibition? Should he apologize for the fact that his sculpture had not been realistic at all? His Peake had had a flat stomach and lots of muscles!

And then Peake started talking about cocks, and Tristan nearly lost it for good. The Baron certainly talked about a certain part of the male anatomy a lot. He suddenly remembered a conversation with Daliane during which they had speculated about Alistair’s and Peake’s sexuality. Perhaps, he thought, his suspicions were true and Alistair had only agreed to that unfortunate engagement to Celeste to be closer to Peake!

He didn’t even want to think about how they did it though, considering that Peake seemed to be massive in every way.

“Something sweet please“, he answered as Peake asked him if he wanted something to eat. Maybe he would survive that trial with his mind halfway intact if he stuffed himself with chocolate. „But no cocks. I’ll leave them all to you“, he added somewhat generously and tried not to stare too much as the Baron stuffed a couple of pastries into his gigantic maw. He’d always wondered why so many men insisted on having a beard when it usually just looked like they had glued the fur of a dead animal onto their face. Now he knew why. It caught most of the crumbs and the syrup before they landed on the floor.

“If you don’t want your servants anymore”, he offered. “You can give them to me, Baron.” He had no bodyguards or servants. He didn’t even have a slave anymore because he had decided to free her. If he were being followed by a pair of bodyguards or servants all the time, people would immediately realize how important he was and respect him and fear him. That made up for the lack of privacy in his opinion. “I’ll even take them for free.”

“As for the boy king”, he continued, remembering one particular incident. “His neck is still intact, but somebody tried to stab him when he attended the premiere of my new play. So where are the sculptures you mentioned and how did you lose your leg? Your father called you a hero. Did you lose it during the war, like Aeon?”

[Alistair]

Tristan

Knowledges
Cosmetology: The many uses of beards
Etiquette: Cleaning your hands with your shirts is practical, not bad manners!
Linguistics: Words don't always mean what you think they mean
Linguistics: Nicknames
Sculpting: Peake 2.0
Sculpting: Working for a difficult client
Sculpting: Branching out and making prosthetics
Sculpting: Sometimes sculptures don't reflect reality

Peake Andaris: Gay?
Peake Andaris: Lost a leg
Peake: Might keep a harem of sows somewhere
Peake: A great man, in every aspect

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

Comments: "And then Peake started talking about cocks, and Tristan nearly lost it for good. The Baron certainly talked about a certain part of the male anatomy a lot. He suddenly remembered a conversation with Daliane during which they had speculated about Alistair’s and Peake’s sexuality. Perhaps, he thought, his suspicions were true and Alistair had only agreed to that unfortunate engagement to Celeste to be closer to Peake!"

I lost it. LOL. This was too good! I didn't realize Dali and Tristan ACTUALLY speculated on Alistair and Peake's sexuality. They at least got one half right!

It was a pleasure to read a Peake and Tristan thread; serious shame it wasn't completed. I love, still, how Tristan clung to his verbiage as a way to insinuate his sexuality. He's just so ridiculous and wonderful to read!

Code: Select all

[center][img]/gallery/image.php?album_id=2&image_id=13883[/img][/center]