Red Lines: The Challenge of Sleat

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

In the townsquare of Sleat..

"Would ye have them make lily livered boys o' ye, like ye bullucks ne'er dropped n' ye have nay hair on ye chest? Would ye listen tae a Half Anglish bastard n' his bytch wot does nay know her place?"

The hard language in the square was upsetting the women folk. "Dun listen tae tha', Clive!" A mother plugged up the ears of her five year old boy and snatched back his sister from getting to close, "That's mens business n' we've chores tae dae. Get!" He'd been barking about that nonsense ever since the rooster crowed. Making sure the children were off to see to what they were supposed to be about, the mother became just one more in a circle of women talking about the sin in what the man was saying. His language was the tip of the mountain! "He's talkin' that filth that'll make my boy start thinkin' terrible things! Terrible." "M'husband's already forbidden mah daughter from gaein' outside afore she breathes in the sickness wot be in the air comin' from up North n' all. Tis wrong tae talk agin the Duke n' Duchess but it would nay be tha' way iffn they were nay sae..ungodly like. Tis nay fittin fer a woman tae be sae outspoken n' a man tae let her run him round sae! Makes a cuckold of him!"

The circle of house wives talked one thing while the poison in the square began to seep into a wound or two left raw from some dealing or other. A farmer, the cobbler. Class or rank, the variety was immense as they surrounded the man talking nonsense. To some it began to make sense. That was the rub. Offended sensibility turned into the wild fire of men becoming impassioned. Soon, the man on the square was in a shouting match with his cohorts.

"They will make the MacDonald's anger! Already have, wot will become o' us then? Wot about wot they promised? We've got tae dae somethin!"

Sleat was split in two. There were those who thought the treason was a bunch of rubbish and those who dealt in it would meet an appropriate fate. Then there were those like the men in the square, who for whatever reason, couldn't accept the way things were.

Irvin MacKinnon supported his cup of ale in one flat hand. Fingers curled around the base as he twirled the contents the way he thought, or heard, you were supposed to twirl the contents of a wine goblet to get the full bodied taste. Watered down ale was not wine but he was akin to a Christ near to performing the parable miracle. Setting aside rivalry, he confinced his father to look at the bigger picture: An alliance with the MacDonald's of Sleat, more money in the coffer, and some renown when all was said and done. He had nothing to lose. He was third born, by no means the favorite, and his own mother thought he should have been given to the Church for holy use. "Do I still have the devil in me mother, or will you care if it is Satan that buys you a new dress?"

By now, his infamous audience with the Duchess was sure to have hit the ears of the well to-do. His name was tadamount with scandal. Duke Adam would here of how he offended his sharp tongued terror of a wife when she was ailing, only doing good in the absence of her husband. Bah. It was a pity the whore didn't fall over that day, but what would be the fun in that? He ordered some black bread to accompany the talk that was sending the me of Sleat down to the clan seat to enlist in the company. Petty crime was paying off well. He remebered telling Tial to take his pick of the whores that night, putting the most delictable little slutton infront of his anxious fingers. The boy had a penchant for violence.

Every person who had hidden the fugitive MacDonald had been paid off, sent away, or had been killed by Dutchy mandate. He thought the warrants were a slick piece of administrative work. There wasn't one out for him, half in part because he had never given his name, and the other in part because soon there would be one for a good number of MacKinnons. Why waste the ink to discriminate? He held Tial's now, fingering the edges of the words condemning him to die. Damn the Baliff. The Lady MacDonald, Tial's Mother, was all matter of weeping and sniveling when it was said they'd be coming to haul her precious killer away. A show of force combined with the rising ranks from the square was just what they had wanted.

It was what he wanted.

Where there was a will, there was a way. It didn't matter what the reason was or how it came to manifest, only that when they came into Sleat, the Griffin would have a hard time getting out if at all.

[strongjustice]

Retarding the English Threat

William tore open the missive and read it… then tearing it up, he threw it into a corner. “That son of a swine… what arrogance does he try to sway us away from Skye…”

Gerard nodded, staying loyal to his Lord… “M’Lord, as yu have planned so much, maybe supporting the clansmen is nay the best means to accomplish what we desire… ye know I support ye in all ye do… but we just saw England just stalemate a war with Scotland… It would be too aggressive to try again so soon…maybe we should follow yer second plan, a more subtle approach… to have Anwen and yu visit Skye… after the war as a gesture o0f good will, while seeking weaknesses. They have a well-trained army, Scotland supports them, and if this boy invokes the Auld Alliance, we would have to fight France as well.”

William growled his displeasure, but agreed with his long time friend and ally. “Aye Gerard, send the word, pull them back to Trotternish and set the ships asail to bring them home… we shall save our resources for yet another day…”

Gerard bowed and sent forth 5 riders… each with string ponies… the fastest way to get word to the field. William’s troops would leave Sleat and return to Trotternish, in preparation to set sail for southern ports on the Scot mainland.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

It is too late to stay behind, yet with trepidation do we advance.

Unknown behind a stoic face with courage as permanent, as enduring as the mountain.

Shall we return, shall we live to a time renewed?
Forever is not promised unto us; blade wielders, bow bringers, wielders of spears.

All that can be assured is the ferocity of our eyes.
likened unto
hungry beasts, grown gluttonous on avenging the wronged.

Coming for the last meal.

The Battle of Sleat - Part I

Beathag: If there was a price for going to Struan, it was that precious time was lost in quelling the brewing Southern rebellion. It had grown hundreds strong, more than anything that could have been expected, and ever since learning that they would be looking into the eyes of 650, if not more, battle ready lions, Beathag wore a mask of impenitrable stone. The voice inside was constantly speaking so that all sides of herself held discourse on what to do. "Take care with the dead," she muttered, "be sure they gae tae the hands o' those waitin' fer them." For a culture that prized children, there seemed something viciously sadistic about offering up the youngest boy to the bombastic idealism of the war machine. Little bundles were given to the arms of fathers alongside the large, matured bodies of the elder. Yet, more people now came to go with them to Sleat with neither sex nor age as a deterent. Underneath the fickle light of weakly oiled torches, the body of young Pherson was given to his mother. The scream of her, of many women, made the attendants flinch as horses were fed, shoed, and their tack hitched to the carts filled with supplies for mortal and beast alike. (d)

Eamonn: The last buckles had been done up, attaching the vambraces to his forearms and making sure they were tight and secure. He did not want them coming off. The tent was undone and condensed. Many brave men and young boys had given theirlives in the defense of a nation, a way of life not governed and dictated by a tyrant thousands of miles away. It made no sense, save for gluttonous profit, and that was a thought that Eamonn could not stand to ponder. The lives of the people here were as play things to these nobles who dare trade it for coin and pleasures that were luxury given, not earned. The stoic warrior was ready now, his face of stoism worn as he sheathed the boot dagger and picked up the dirk of Brycean. For a moment he stared at it, the weapon sheathed in leather. Gloved fingers coiled around the handle and with a jerk, the dirk was unfurled and the blade gleamed in the light. "Lend me your strength, my brother for we march...I will honour you." He whispered, before lifting the blade to his lips and placing a light kiss upon the metal. Nodding, the dirk was sheathed and placed in the opposite boot. The helm was placed upon his head and strapped under his chin securely. To Finbar he went, and swiftly mounted, taking the spear handed to him. Upon the spear, the Giffin banner had been fastened. Pherson's simple courage would be carried forth. "FORM UP!" He commanded.

Aislin: A slender hand rose up slowly over the soft fur of Echo's muzzle as Aislin soothed her over and made her ready for another day to move and travel. Echo seemed to be handling herself well and made Aislin proud. Echo nuzzled her should to let her know that she was ready. The blood had been cleaned from Aislin's face but her clothing still held it; dry and stained. There was little time to worry on such, little time to really worry on much yet her mind stillwandered. Eamonn had sent a few men back home to look for any sign of her. 'A shoe, a lock of hair a bit of dress' he said. She shook her head as she climbed up on top of Echo and seated herself firmly on the leather saddle. Reins were taken in her hand and she jerked Echo to the side before moving to catch up with Dmitrii and Ophelia. The sound of the hooves on the ground, hitting hard were her only company as the task set out for another was set at hand and hd Aislin following in tow.

Jelenah: As the Dutchess and the others began to arrive back to the Castle and the city to pick up fresh men and supplies, Jelenah would be in the courtyard waiting as the word quickly spread of the on coming of the Lady and her company. Everything that was left to Jelenah to see to by Bess had been done just as requested. Everything was ready and awaiting the command of the Lady Ducthess herself once they arrived. Jelenah stood with her hands at her waist, clasped together. By her side was a young servant boy that held the reigns to her new steed Dulcenea that had been purchased from Mateo. The dark man would also be accompaning them on this journey South but he was no where to be seen yet. The Slavic woman had a funny feeling that he would be joining them soon even if it were to be lingering behind to start with. Rumors of those that had laid their lives down for the Kingdom had also quickly spread to the ears of those waiting in the courtyard and in the Castle walls. However, Jelenah had been surrounded by death once before and the expression of sorrow was barely there as she stood and proudly awaited the arrival of her sister, the Duchess, Lady Aberdeen. <d

Adam: Adam had wandered among the rows of wagons of dead bodies, now bloated and smelling despite their best eforts to preserve... he wanted to choke but held it back... He knew what war was... and what it wrought... but now it had come to his own city, his own people... But what lie ahead could much worse, should the English not pull back their forces. As Adam figured it... 650 with the English, 375 without... he prayed some would retreat when the English... for once he would pray to any God that listened... to make the English rescind their support::::


Beathag: To be matched number for number, to be outnumbered. Either choice predated a grim forecast. To know that the English had thrown themselves in with the fray meant that their presence was not one that would shrink away over the waters back down toward a quiet granduer in London. The people were relying on Adam, upon her, to make things right. How do you right such? She had not said a word to a single soul, affording those closest to her a flicker of tenderness in eyes alone only for it to be lost amidst the mask she wore. "Utleie meg gir prakten å du , meg far , meg moder , meg bror. Meg slekt." Beathag prayed in Norwegian, behind a curtain of lacklustered hair. Let me give honor to you, my father, my mother, my brother. My kin. She passed Jelenah with a cant of head, letting her know she approved of her mount. If any emotion passed..it would be this, a stolen moment: Amidst the throng of people, she would come to hold Aodhan, Edme, and Adam. "Ye are both strong n' nothin can stop ye.." Aodhan told them, "I'll be good until ye get home.." (d)

Dimitri: Dmitrii was among the Vanguard Battle... he would ride into the first wave into Sleat... for the first time since arriving in Scotland, he was not on his big black Friesan... His stop in Turas Lan would be brief, but only three people were on his mind... his wish to see his sister Kae... the Queen Serena... and the girl from the wall, Willa... soon he would ride behind the commander of the Vanguard Battle... he was only second man in a line to drive deep into the enemy lines.... but soon a familiar fac would saddle up beside him... "Pezdyetz M'Lady... why are ye here... Go back to the main force... yer sword is swift and true, yer aim is even better... but I do not wish to have yer life on my hands in this battle... I love ye for what ye are... live long and prosper, but do not jeapodize yerself with the Vanguard... tis much more dangerous...." ::::

Eamonn: While numbers did nto win a battle, the certainly helped in the odds of things. There had been better battles fought where the sides were more evenly distributed, but such might not be the case. To whatever end, he would follow his sister and brother-in-law. The whereabout of his wife were unknown, and their daughter was safe in the lands of Eohmark, his home. His thoughts went to her for a moment as he waited for his sister and her husband. Seated in the saddle tall and proud, he watched with distant eyes as some said farewell to their lovers, children, and families. Had Aislin been here, he would have. Chasing the thought and tangent away, not wanting to get himself distracted, he blinked. Hazel eyes looked away from his nephew as he bid his mother farewell, the scene too near at heart for him. Eamonn was never good with farewells...Pressing firm lips together, he motioned for his company of horseman to move.


Aislin: Go back? Aislin tilted her head to Dmitrii as he said he loved her for what she was...but did not want her hurt. Confusion was not something that sat well with Aislin, normally she was not the one in such a spot. Where else was she to go? What if Dmitrii went on his death kick again and no one was there to help him pull back. "Tch. Save ye words Dmitrii. They be no use here. Ah did nay come all this way to turn back now, for the cause is not what it once was when we spoke in the infimary. My understanding for my husband has come and passed. Now I feel the need to fight for the home we are making. Remember what ah said Dmitrii. Do nay stop having my back..and ah'll nay stop having yers."

Jelenah: Jelenah would simply nod back to Bess as she passed by her and showed that one tender moment of herself as her family was embraced. Once the woman had completely passed her, the Slavic woman gave a simple nod to the servants and they would immediately tend to their desiganted tasks that had been told to them prior to the arrival of the Duchess and the others. Carts were ready as well as wagons, supplies secured, and horses ready. Lines were formed and those that would be traveling with them were now ready. Jelenah herself would now grab up her skirts, fold them over her left arm. Left foot into the stirup as left hand held to the saddle's horn. She hoisted herself up and did well, settling nicely in the saddle. Looked like these lessons from the hired hand was paying off. The golden blond sat in silence upon her steed and awaited the call to ride out. <d

Adam: The sword swung at his hip, his hands patting soldiers, hugging bereaved loved ones, he would ride with the Main Battle, his best friend Dmitrii in the Vanguard... Having tried to convince Bess to ride reserve, but he knew that had been a losing cause...she would ride beside him and her brother... Adam would allow the Lord Marshal to be the Commander of the Forces... since Eamonn was more experienced in tactics, and Adam was more stratgy than tactics... He rode up next to his brother in law and nodded... "Ready when yu are... advance the Vanguard ahead 5 miles..." Then he remembered Andrew... one who particularly gave his life for Adam... this among many that had died for Skye, one would remain noted, having guarenteed his death by pretending he was Adam Aberdeen... Adam would remember. He simply nodded to Eamonn:::

Beathag: Beathag did not cry when Aodhan was made to let go of her. The smell of innocence, earth, and honey clung to the skin of her children. Her heart broke, but it was never seen outright. Beathag screamed but it was never heard. "Faeren, Ah want ye tae ride beside Jelenah, as ye can use a sword as well as play us on." The Herald, The Handmaiden. They joined the ranks of the women who would see more than they ought see, mayhaps e'en do more than ought be done. "Jelenah, ye've done vera well lass, vera well." By way of encouragements that was all she could muster though the meaning was by no means lost by a lack of words. Caldonhan's reigns were offered up to her by a servant who kept him in the place she would take beside her husband and brother. He had tried to convince her to ride reverse, but it was failed. It was akin to getting either of them to remain behind, another idea that failed. Between the two of them they had killed one MacDonald chieftain and deposed another. Together, they would finish this. (d)

Faeren: Horses had always made her nervous. Beathag could certainly recount for that. But, after many relationships with various beasts...and after many hard break ups from being literally dumped, Faeren was sure she had found the perfect match for her. She maneuvered Tuck, a dapple grey fell gelding, over to the Slavic woman. She smiled brightly to Jelenah. "Are ye ready?" Then she'd get a bit more situated herself. She wore her leathers from the days she had fought in Ireland, and her short sword was in its leather encasing at her hip. Over the light leather armor though a six colored shawl type cloak was thrown about her frame, a cloak that was given to Seanchai's, or Chief Bards, in Ireland for their ranking. And to be worn on special occasions such as these. However in her hands she had her bagpipes. They were strapped onto her though into a peculiar way, to accomodate her for riding with them. She had it specially made so that thin leather straps attatched to each drone leaning against her shoulder went around her back and came under her arm to attach the actual bagpipe band that was tucked beneath her opposite arm and currently unflated. So she could ride and play at the same time, essentially.(d)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

I have grown sick on the feast at the table of strength!

My body gives up the nourishment of my brother's blood, letting it flow down into the earth.

I take no succor in ending you, but find the honor is this:

to have taken one look from under the helm
to tighten hand in the gauntlet's confine while
you breathed
unknowing that I would be the harbringer of your end.

To what Gods may listen, let it be known I wish to only feast at battle's table
never to be Death's chosen to be on a silver platter.

Dmitrii: Dmitrii smiles at Aislin... "then saddle next to me... lets ride in and scare the devils to death with ferocity... once the first line is driven down, they wont be so lustered to fight... tis the way of the Mongols... and they sacked and burned my city... the Great Kyiv... and since then she has not risen... we shall do the same to these petty clansmen..." Then he heard her speak about each other's back... he smirked wickedly... that beard crinkling in the infamous Zurban style... "Agreed M'Lady.... let's give them hell..." then he extended his arm to her... "yers til death... or until ye release me..." ::::

Eamonn If Eamonn had his own way in the matters, he would have his sister at home, with her children, making sure that the people would be safe. However, that was not the sister he had. She would not be swayed. It mattered not
now, as long shifted to Adam as the man caught up with him. He dipped his chin reverently and nodded curtly. "As you wish, my Lord." He said simply, before glancing to Bess for a moment, before heels pressed into the flanks of his stallion. The spear was gripped tightly in his hand as they made for Sleat. Finbar snorted, eager and ready as ever for a fight. Proudly the stallion cantered as the banner of the Griffin waved in the caught breeze. Footmen was limited now, so it would be hard to counter the clans if they had pikemen. "We need to split up, Down the center and to the wings. I pray there are no pikemen...of at least few." He said to Adam, before turning his eyes toward Cormack. "Take the left and sweep around to cut off their retreat and divide their forces. Adam and Bess...I give you center or the right, which you prefer?"

Aislin: Aislin was no fool and she was not as powerful as one might seem. She could get killed in the blink of an eye and it made her heart race, but her emotions were jumbled up. She had no idea which one to push forward, never having been in war until now, she had no a clue. Only what instinct said when it came to surviving and following Dmitrii's lead. When he extended his arm, she shifted Echo to move clsoer to his horse and reached out, clasping his upper forearm with his, fingers laces around his muscles and squeezed then she let go. Onwards they went, Aislin had the strangest feeling...she was heading to something she could not handle. This whole war seemed like something she could not handle. It was too late now

Jelenah: Jelenah looked to Faeren and would nod to the Irish woman. She'd offer a warm smile like old friends did even in times like these. Reigns were taken and she would usher Dulcenea to join in the line behind Bess and the men. The hooves of her steed mixing in with those of the others and sounding like war drums all on their own. The Italian Gypsy had done well by way of teaching and Jelenah did the same by way of learning. Mateo had managed to teach her not to fear horses but to be friends with them. If you were friends with them... they could and would do anything for their rider. So Faeren had not been the only one that had issues with these animals. Jelenah had to and still did to a point though was learning to cope and deal as issues arised. The Lady In Waiting rode with ease for now as their was nothing to fear, however that was sure to change once they crossed the line of what would be the point of no return for many. -d-

Adam: Adam sat upon Bandit, the white stallion, he twisted in the saddle to survey the troops they had amassed... the horsemen and the wagons would make the trek faster than the clansmen had suspected... this Adam had planned...but he also hoped the English would not dally as usual.He made his choice... "Center, Lord Marshal if'en yae please..." and he gave Eamonn the order to proceed... "M'Lord, the army is yers tae command..."one more step in the plan to unify Skye... one more chance for all to die... but he would not go easily... he glanced at Bess and winked... he noticed Eamonn's distaste for the women present... then he looked forward at the trail of men walking south toward Sleat...mere farmers, merchants, tailors... all armed to help where they can...: even it meant to die for what they believed in. Men walking to aid in their fight for freedom, even when they were not asked:::::

Beathag: " If tha' be where m'husband is, M'Lord, than tha' is where I shall advance from as well," She canted her head to the affirmative of the decision, sitting up a little straighter in the saddle to prepare for the advance out of the Gates. From the West, the sound of horns trumpeting gave the call to the hour that was at hand "Tis time." A plan? A sprawled out map on the tent table, figurines, and much talk was tadamount to a great lot of nothing more than voices agreeing on one thing. The glory of a woman was fabled to be her hair; the wind caught sparks from the torches and reflected them on the unbound mane that was as golden as the standard they fought beneath. The tailor, the merchant, the farmer. The heroes of Skye were ready to embark. (d)

Faeren: Faeren gently nudged Tuck with her heels to move him foreward with Jelenah's horse. Tuck was an older pony and very docile, which worked out perfectly for Faeren. It wasn't so much that Horses were somehow empathetic to emotions, but rather they read the body. The legs about their sides, the placement of the riders weight upon their back, and the position of the bit in their mouth; which side it was being tugged to and how hard back it was being pulled. If a rider is nervous, their body will tense, and so will the horse. Faeren had a little horn on her saddle for a place to hook her reins around so she could then play her bagpipes later. But not yet. While observing the others she inhaled and exhaled deeply. New to the pipes so the stress on her lungs was quite unfamiliar to her. She would most likely not fight, since she had her pipes, but just in case, her sword awaited at her hip. When one is raised in a country where fighting is as common as the rain, between clans or opposing countries over seas, one tends to know how to fight. And well to still be here now. Or how to stay out of the way.(d)

Dmitrii Dmitrii felt her grip... strong.... but something in her eye worried him... doubt... Leaning over, he grabs her collar and pulls her to him... his voice low and stern... the rus accent thick... "MLady, I see it in yer eyes... nyet doubt thyself... if'en ye do, return now afore too late... but I have faith in ye..." as he shakes her collar. "Yu are too good to doubt.... yu want to fight...then fight... yu want to doubt...go home !!" then he released her...sitting erect in his saddle... only to smile and lean back... "I told ye I love ye like ye are..." then he rubbed his beard...and spurred his horse as the Vanguard commander ordered them to depart first and ride ahead...men...100 strong and one woman to lead the charge into a well armed clan militia::::

Aeterno Ventus: The Lord Duke made his decision as to with portion he would take, and Eamonn nodded. The center was going to get hit the hardest, but he assumed that Adam knew that already. Why would the man not? Adam had seen service in war before, and Eamonn had faith. "ADAM'S COMPANY TO THE CENTER, THE REST WITH ME! WE CHARGE!" He shouted, before raising the spear and spurring Finbar into a gallop down the plains and towards the armed militia. Some had pikes, and they came to the foreground. Horsemen cheered as the farmers, simple men charged on foot for a cause with but a fool's hope. Muscle moved beneath the conditioned war horse, a stallion trained and condition to handle the horrors of war and even fight back. No simple horse would do for times of war and battle, natural instincts would rule in favour of the untrained horse. Spear raised high, hooves beat the air like thunder as Eamonn took his company right and Cormack to the left, leaving Adam and his followers to the center. "DEATH!!" He cried out, before tossing the spear in the air for a moment, then catching it again in strike position. Closer and closer they got to the lines of militia, and pikes were raised and held. BAM! Impact. Horses screamed as some were impaled with the tips of pikes and riders went flying here and there as they charged threw. Eamonn thrusted the spear, impaling one man through the eye, then snatching it out as they aimed to work around the company, to meet Cormack at the flank and encircle the milita. It was the plan, and hopefully with the numbers they had, it would be pulled off. Hooves kicked up as another horse screamed and went down, crashing to the ground and the rider being crushed under it. Spear in gloved hand still, Eamonn gave a mighty heave, hurling the spear forward and impaling a swordman to the ground. Wiping out his sword the white horse tail plume gleamed as the sword was brought down hard, cracking the skull. So it begins.

Aislin: Aislin did not expect his larger hand to grip the collar of her shirt and it was a reaction to place her hand on her thigh where her dagger laid itself to rest in the straps. She trusted Dmitrii, but still the action was surprising. and made her eyes cut to his own to stare. He was pushing back her own words to her in a sense, but this time..it was her showing fear. He was right..she was here..she needed to be here fully. " Ah stay to fight!" she cried out as he released her. Beging unsure right now...was not going to work. But she had to know her limits. the bow was removed from her back and she held it in one hand as Dmitrii charged them forward. She was no fool...the more experienced men were in front of her as they went on, leaving her towards the middle and falling a bit behind Dmitrii. She was not trained to take the blunt of it in the front..so she would be in the middle back. Only as they got closer, did she pull the bow back over her shoulder and reached for her sword at a last minute choice. Confusion, she should not let happen again. Sword was pulled out, and she made ready, hearing screams and shouts from the men to help keep their spirits up. She joined in, her husky female tone crying out a battle cry that never had left her lips before. It made her feel ...stronger..more confidant. Even as they rushed head on into a sea of mean like two waves crashing: together.

Jelenah: The Slavic woman would ride in behind her Lady Duchess and her husband Adam.True, she was scared, fearful of what the unknown held for them but who wouldn't be? War was something that noone wanted unless it was for the greed of power and rishes or the sheer sadistic enjoyment of bloodshed and infliction of pain. However, the golden blond would hold her own, her stoic features only looked forward. The Lady in Waiting doing all she could and should for Bess as well as others. Her position on the saddle was erect and unmoving as her eyes would stay locked on the duo before her. No words were spoken, no thoughts really to be had save for what was happening right here and right now. Hands held the reigns firmly as she continued to usher the steed forward. Heels softly nudging into the sides of the beast and a prayer in her mind being said for those around her and herself that Skye would come out on top with few losses.<d

Adam: Adam looked at the regular army...about 100 in the Vanguard, another 475 in the main body...and another 150 to 175 homemade militia on foot making their way to Sleat... He thinks of his children; time had stolen him from them...he would have loved to see them, but that would serve no military purpose... emotions would have diverted him from the task, as it did in Struan... that cost him lives... and no more would he offer as sacrifice. Now he would order the charge to his company..."DEATH... No MERCY !!! then he spurred Bandit, and rode into the path the Vanguard had made on their advance... his lowered his lance... men would be ripped apart as he gourged one, shook it off then another and another until the lance would break... then he would draw his shortsword and began to hack at anything nearby... occasionally someone would get too close and Bandit would buck, sending crashsing hooves to skull....::::

Beathag: Beathag looked at the men who were wiling to risk their lives, and the women who knew that nothing was guaranteed. Even to linger in the encampment could mean death if a misstep was taken, one foot placed on the wrong end of an imaginary line. To embrace her son, to kiss Edme. For the scent of their skin, hair, and the touch of their small hands she would see that their future was secure. In the gardens not so long ago, Beathag had spoken to Jelenah of a dream she had where in she spoke with the Lord of the Dead. All of the emotion she held in on the road from Turas Lan to Sleat came out in her battle cry, " For the honor o' the victorious dead! Give honor towards our fallen brethren!" The weight of the spear was heavy in her hand, rolling back with tossed twice for grip, before being thrust forward to part the enemy intwain. Sleat would make Struan Grove look like small pieces on a chess board toppled over, for already the stench of blood soaked guts falling to the earth decreed it to be the place where men on either side would be slaughtered. (d)

Faeren: During the ride to the south, Faeren had began playing the pipes. Her fingers wrapped around the chanter she first breathed deeply and inflated her lungs like two balloons, then exhaled in the chanter to fill the bag up. Instantly transitioning into a song. Her face contorted into one of fierce and fixed concentration with brows knitted closely together. Lithe fingers flutering up and down on the chanter to belt out a song from the three heavy drones weighing down her left shoulder something that sounded like a varient of Scotland the Brave. Her left arm that was around the bag constantly, but slowly, moving closer to her body and away to push out the air and then let it fill back up. When the army had finally reached the enemy, Faeren stopped to pull her horse out of the line before they charged. No way would she fight with her bagpipes strapped to her. Instead she led Tuck to a separate and open space. Near the battle, but not close enough to be considered game. The reed of the chanter placed between tight set lips again to play on as the warriors of skye fought on. (d)

Dmitrii: As the Vanguard commander ordered them forward, Dmitrii spurred the horse, his twin blades drawn and spinning, slashing as the Vanguard divided the pikemen, a single glance at the vicious female riding close to him... what a pair these two had become.... Dmitrii's horse stumbled and threw him head first... into a roll, he came up empty handed, grabbing an axe, he worked his way thru clansman after clansman until he was able to pick up his deadly twins... by then Aislin had come around and dismounted, sending Echo off on her own... these two stuck together like honey... "Ahhh, we meet again my dear..." laughing... assailing sword and her bow firing into the circle that formed around them...They would fight and fight hard, though now separated from the others...:::

[lizzie]

The ride back from Argyll was met with the new Laird of clan MacGregor. Tha' former tanist - Lord Wolffe MacGregor. He was a force tae be reckoned wit'. His horse was magnificent. A draft horse named "Pepper". He was tha' alright an' much more. [/b]


* Tha' burial of Andrew had torn her heart from her chest. Tha' ring he hae left fer her was beautiful. She would much rather have hae himself. Lady Moira was a wise woman though she was younger tha' herself. Thin's needed tae be faced an' they would.
But first there was Sleat tae deal with, an' tha' she would deal wit' head on.
War faced her as she had just gotten tae Sleat. She would find Bess eventually.
Tha' Laird came back wit' her , so he could see just wha' Andrew fought for an' who the Duke & Duchess were.
Tha' Laird smiled a bit, as he brought his tanist wit him. Bobby MacGregor. ::She just shook her head::. How he became a tanist was over her head. Bobby was a little rash at times, the youngest of four brothers. A big flirt. He was near her age, but tha' was all they hae in common.
She went tae find Bess or Adam or both. She left the two men on their own tae make camp. "Nice arse Brynna..wow! Curvy tae."
Closin' her eyes as she heard the "child's" remark. Ignores it, the Laird smacked him up side tha' head. "Settle yeself doon boy, or I get m'whip out!"
Smirkin' she chuckled tae herself.*

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Nothing was ever assured, ever guaranteed. It had been done by Adam before leaving Inverness, and she too would leave record of testament should anything transpire. A sealed document would be returned to the castle, and one would be left in the tent beneath a single ribbon that Adam had given her to bind her hair. A simple golden ribbon from a market in Inverness, unknowing that it would be the color that wove them together all their lives. The page who was set to this task trembled, praying that such a thing would never come to pass.

The Last Commandments of Beathag of Aberdeenshire

Lady Griffin of Scotland
Lady of the Isles


Let this be the last commandments writ by the hand of the Duchess should the will of Fate decree my end was met upon the field of battle, by the will of man, or that nature ceased to allow breath to cross my mouth ever again.

I have become a woman of title, in appearence and writ only. Know now that it was never my will to abandon the essence of myself. May I have died with callused hands, scars, and the knowledge work accomplished more than mandate from the mouth ever could have done.

Of the Children:

Duchess of Turas Lan, Stewardess of Skye. Lady of the Isles. My titles as a woman will be given thus unto my daughter Edme in the event of my demise should the Duke not seek to take a new wife. Should he do this, she shall still be deemed a Lady of the Isles, and retain the dowry to which she is entitled. Of my son, in the event of my demise, let it be known that his name was recorded in the annual of the Royals in the place of the Christ Child. He is heir to all that is the Skye, all that is the Isles should his parents pass away.

Let the children rule thus together, sharing equitably in the provincials large and small. Should one seek to leave Turas Lan, may they find a secondary court awaiting their residence on the Isle of Lewis at Stornoway on the advent of their marriage.

The dowry of the Lady Edme Anstice shall consist of the choicest matched pairs of breeding horses, gold, silver, copper, and the jewels acquired since her birth. May she join together with another in overseeing the Isle of Lewis, and may her and Aodhan equitably recall the smaller islands between them. For ships may she take the Aberdeen, the second ship of the fleet and one I recall memory of her upon most fondly.

As his father wishes, Aodhan is the master of Skye and the Duke apparent in his place, in my place as well. He shall call to himself as well the Highland Dutchess, chief ship of our fleet. It was our home and shall serve him well in years to come.

Of personal possesions not bequeathed unto others, my children are entitled to it. Let my harp go to my daughter, so that she may know the music of living. Give her my ledgers of bound songs that none have heard save she, the songs of the women to which she has come to join. Give to her the daggers of my first made match to Caibre MacMoriach, so that she may remember a woman is more than beauty, but strength. May my axe go to my son, in that he took it up after the namesakes of his past. Give unto him the dressing tack of my horse so that he may remember it is a proud,strong creature that carries man towards home or battle. We are our horses and they are us.

If the Duke lives longer, may it be known as my wish that the children be given an education by the principal members of our court. Lord and Lady Kushrenada, the Lord Mashall and Court Physican of Seven Waters, The Herald Bard Tuatha'an, The Lord Advisor of Pern. May they be made to be children of knowledge of the mind, of the body, of spirit.

It is my wish too, that the posistion of Lady in Waiting be kept for the Lady Jelenah in service to my daughter and son. She will give unto them a gentle fortitude and patience. If she should seek new endevors, give her gold and silver, hands to help her, and means of knowledge.

Should no parent survive, let it be known that I would wish our children to be in the keeping of my brother, The Lord Marshall, and his wife, The Court Physician. May they keep all of my wishes and long be the days of their house.

May they know the Gods of their lineages and of the Christ Child's tale. Such choice is theirs to make, so long as they never forget where it is they came from. One can not advance without knowing where those before you have been.

Of Meritable Items and Persons to Have Them

My armor of leathers and that of steel plate shall be given unto my husband for safe keeping. Should he deem it so, it may be given to a woman worthy of taking it to battle. He is heir of my estate, of all that remains when the items listed are given in memory, and for him, he shall be heir to the plots of land that are in the Aberdeenshire, and anything remaining from my days as a MacMoriach. What shall he not own? What can I give him, that he has not already given unto me?

Of my collection of books, I would wish those on medicinal matters given to my sister by law and of heart, Aislin Creed of Sevenwaters. Should she take what she wishes, let the works of poetry and beauty go to Eirian Kushrenada.

May my spear go to Sir Zahak, a most honored and noble friend. May he keep it for himself so that he may recall my tale for one of his great lessons. Give him the laws to take to his most honored Emperor to promise enduring friendship twixt our lands. It is my wish that for all of his great deeds and those of his wife, they shall want for nothing in all of their days.

My dirks, and my most ornate dagger shall go to my brother, Eamonn, Lord Marshall, so that he may hold our family together in his hallowed halls. Caldonhan shall reside with him, and may he partake for his household the reserved treasury from my business enterprises for the keeping and dowry of his daughter, my niece, Sorcha. They shall want for nothing all of their days, his whole family. Take the trunks of things from the childhood of me, for they are your brothers too. Recall in them a father that of yet a face I can not form.

To the Lord Advisor, I give unto him a choice of land for the claiming of a home to be no less than the acres due a man of his title and earning. May it be a vast estate, and may it be said that his charge will be given all due and just rights of citizenship among us. Give him horses, gold and silver, servants, and a ship so that he may continue to learn of the world at large.

To the Bardess Faeren, I leave you the only other instrument in my possession: a violin made in the provinces of Turkey by Romanian gypsies. May it never go quiet in her hands. Should she seek new endevors, see she wants for nothing.

To Kaelyn, you and your brother Dimitri shall have land added unto the Castle Zurban. Take hold of any weapon that I have had commisioned in the room of war, and remember me. Laugh and remember. Be strong and remember.


It is my decree that all who have sustained me in spirit shall want for nothing all the days of their lives.

May the clans allied with us be given praise, their tartans and crests hung in the great hall, and all do honors given them at many times in the year. Give priaise to Buchanan, MacGregor, MacLeod, and MacRae, most especially.

Words of Love

Adam, if in this you see the simple, meticulous hand of a learned one it is only in that I want nothing challenged. It has taken me far longer in this world to write suitable common tongue than to learn the meaning of life, which was not known to me until the birth of my son, and realize in full until the arrival of you. How I love you. You have ruled me since looking into my eyes. You are the only man that I may say might have ruled me, that I would bow at your feet so that you might find praise with me. You exalted me when there was nothing left to adore. Loved me when I was deemed unable to love.

There has never been, nor shall there ever be, anyone for me save you.

My beautiful children, Aodhan and Edme. One of you is of my womb and the other of my spirit, but both of you came to me of a labor etched in love. A mother could seek no finer children to give blood, spirit, and flesh to. Your father and you are the heart of me. Know that I love you. My voice sings to you, I touch you, even if you see me not. I have cried for you in my sleep all nights away from you. My arms have ached for you. My fire, my beloved. Those are the meanings of your names. Never forget them.

To Aislin, to Eirian, to Jelenah, to Faeren, to Kaelyn, and to all of the women time has brought me towards. Once I called you only friend, and if I should die I will call you sister. You are in the halls of my thought to be carried to the lands beyond. If only I could tell you, but it would sadden, on how one can live alone for some 12 years and more. In you I have found a trace of what is good in this world, what is bright, and what is beautiful. In you all I learned again what it was to be a woman for it was forgotten.

To Zahak, Aman-un-Din and such men as they - I can only say that you protected me, befriended me, and carried me in my weakest hours. I am indebt to you for the preservation of a humble, unworthy life. You hold the secret of me, that I faulter, that I come close to illness. Keep the secret of such others close and guard them in my absence.

To Eamonn: Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh. It is the way of the Elder to give life to the Younger. It is my honor to meet our ancestors in the beyond and tell them of you. It is my honor in life to have lived, to have smiled and laughed, and to have fought beside you. It is my most cherished honor to have especially love you more than you can ever devise.

[lizzie]

Wisps0fHeather: - Lord Wolffe MacGregor, brother tae Sir Andrew who had recently been kilt, saw Brynna lying on her horse, passed out from loss of blood. He and Pepper rode up tae her mount, taking the reins, he slowly pulled the horse to where
Wisps0fHeather: his encampment was. He was a healer as well as anyone. He would see if he could help the lass. A stitch or three might be all that was needed. He admired the Aberdeens and their fight. He was a s dirty as the rest. But Brynna was
Wisps0fHeather: badly injured, she needed seeing to now. He would do his very best by her - [/b]



- Laying the Dame down gently on the makeshift cot that was his own, he and Bobby, his tanist
began to cut away the lady's armor. It was a oozing an' nasty wound. He would surmise that the wound was deep. It would require five stitches. He doused the wound with whiskey, it was the only thing he had at the time. As he washed the blood from the wound, Bobby had threaded the needle, an' gave it to Wolffe.
It was meticulous work. It took about 10 or 15 minutes.
He was glad the Dame was out of it, otherwise it would hurt greatly.
He admired her alot. It took guts to kill your own brother , the traitor to his country and his clan.
Andrew had spoken highly of the Dame, he understood why now.
The Dame was ruthless in her fighting, an' rarely was she hurt. He was glad he had been there to care for the injured knight.
At times during a war, admiration turned into something God had a hand in. It would be so this time, he hoped.-

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The outcome of the war is in our hands; the outcome of words is in the council.
Homer (800 BC - 700 BC), The Iliad

The Battle of Sleat - Part II

Eamonn: So it began; another brutal and certainly blood solution to a conflict that could not be solved diplomatically for parties could not agree, and crimes had been committed. It had to end. Hooves beat the air like rolling thunder as the host of horses charged down the plains. Banner and stands of hair streamed in the breeze caught from the forward motion of the horses. Men shouted, cheered, and when that sudden and sickening impact came, there went a loud chorus of screams by both beast and man as the pikes were raised in hopes of slowing down the charging animals and their riders atop the saddle. Adam and his wife had taken the banner down the center, while Cormack and Eamonn took to the wings, the Marshal the right, and Cormack the left. Man and beast upon the front of the lines went down, though not all were to fall victim of the pike. Finbar pushed off the ground, leaping over a fallen body as they charged in, and with sword in hand, he whirled the beast around, and raise his sword, only to bring a heavy death blow to a soldier's skull. However, the war stallion had been trained in the art of war, natural instincts had been fought and reprogrammed as the animal lashed out with sharped shoes for war. Any that dared to get too close was in danger of not simple the rider's sword, but from teeth and hooves. The tall blonde sneered as he switched sword hands, the blade being momentarily held in the same gloved hand as the reins were being gripped by, and leaning over, he snatched the fauchard from the soldier's hands, wrenching it away, only to turn it and thrust it through him. Once again the sword was switched back to the rightful hand, and onward he charged.

Aislin: Off Echo she went, letting her feet hit firmly on the ground. Palms were sweaty and her heart was pounding so loudly that it was all she could hear in her head. Her knees were weak and felt like they would give out at any second. This was it..no going back now. How they had gotten from the others, she did not know, nor did she have time to really stop and take a gander. Sword out and ready, she gripped it as tightly as her sweaty palms would let her as she moved to place her back towards Dmitrii's. Another loud and husky war cry was given as men came at them. SHYT! One sword came towards her head and her own was rose upwards to meet it as she stepped to the left just in case her own strength was not enough to stop it. Feeling two thick pieces of metal clash, hurt a bit. the vibration went all the way down into her arm and amde it shake. The man left himself wide open so a bony knee could be pulled and pushed upwards with all her might into his side while her other hand moved to give the one holding the sword strength and helped push his own away and to the side. Thinking fast, she turned her own sword so the handle was smashed into the male's face, between the thick pieces of metal that was meant to protect. Blood pushed out and into the air, letting her know she got his nose. More were coming..and that was only the first few seconds. Just breath.

Adam: The cry of war had yet been given again, the Vanguard had driven deep into the enemy, Cormack to one side, Eamonn to the other... now Adam and Bess, side by side would drive down the middle. Spears sailed thu the air as far as a man could throw...arrows whistled its way to a target finalizing a man's life with a sudden thud.... Upon the wind came a familiar sound, Adam smiled as he began to fight... his request for musicians had been granted as they blew on bagpipes and beat the drum...Tunes that urged Adam on... he then urged his men on... he was determined to make all Skye a united land in peace... Adam had drawn the short sword and fought men from horseback, until deep dead center of the Clans' lines... then he quickly dismounted, taking the broadsword and striking men with harsh blows, often a deathblow from strong arms... He could see Dmitrii and Aislin back to back, not one hundred meters away... a glance left and he saw the White Hound serving justice as she saw fit... her screams tending to shock men where she planted her boots... a swift grin and a nod, then they too were fighting side by side, back to back::::

Beathag: She charged down the front line with Adam, her husband, her Duke. The planets aligned above so as to poise the stars in ordaining that she bore witness to the moment in history when the first wave of shield's baring down the weight of enemy resistance cracked against the glow of pikemens' spears. In her hand the wooden rod became a tool of destruction, for the smithy had fashioned a tip of steel reminsicent of the fabled Norwegian axe. Her left hand would drive it out to catch the legs of horses, a sword's reply, and the body of the fallen men until Caldonhan had reached the zenith of his travel. The weapon was thrust into the ground next to them, a sign to mark them to any who saw as her back came to feel her husband's armor. "Is this wot ye've come fer, MacDonald, is this wot ye desire? " she mocked the approach of the rebel tartan, "Then come!" He saw the dynamic of man and wife become ruthless, instictual killers. They had violated the sanctum of their den, their family, and would not be forgiven. So he would take up his sword, bringing it down to be trapped in the X formed by withdrawn hand weapons: Two curious hand blades, in the familiar axe's crook, save their steel ran longer, the length of a forearm and the inches just beyond, giving her the advantage of even a quick jab of the right hand to his nose slicing a hook clear up the nostril. (d

Dimitrii: Deep into enemy lines, the Vanguard pushed... now encircled, Dmitrii would make an odd move, Aislin would imitate, seeing how it worked, She was very astute, and now it appeared that Dmitrii and Aislin seemed to have had fought side by side for years... their wild and unorthodox movements astounded their foe, leaving only room for mistakes by their opponents... resulting in sure death.Men fell all about them... Aislin with two short swords, Dmitrii with twin ornate swords of death... seemed to move in a well choreographed dance of death and dismemberment. Erotic as it was deadly, these two are the epitome of a monarch's dream for war machines. History, could later be written about these two in the annuals of Skye. A block here, a side-step there, he would block and she would slice; she would block and he would lay the swords edges deep into the skin of those who interrupted them. Even if they became separated, they would find one another and resume their dance.No words, only looks of silence... to the screams of war cries, the clash of metal to metal, to the cries of pain or death... Dmitrii and Aislin had formed a bond that, though they would mostly likey wish to, but could never be put asunder... :::::\

Brynna: * Brynna found MacKinnon....riding' up tae him, she lifted her boot right into the man's groin, jumpin' from Cicero, they fought. The man was in agony, she knew this, but before it was over, he'd be dead. The wrestled around on tha' ground. Liftin' her arm, she bashed him side tha' face, breakin' his nose. This man had kilt Andrew, by tha' God in heaven he would pay. Grabbin' his tartan, she wrapped it around his neck and pulled tightly, til his eyes rolled back inta their sockets. Turnin, she ducked as she twisted a dagger into the next man. One jumped on her back. Smilin', she quickly grabbed tha' man's head on her back, twisted it til it cracked and snapped. Someone grabbed her arm tryin' tae twist it, she elbowed the man in the face. Sword blades were clinkin' together as steel met steel. They had nae an idea iffn she were a man or a lass an' she would nae waste her time tellin' them. A MacDonald came at her she knew him from childhood. She narrowed her eyes at him as grabbin' a handful of hair, she jerked her gloved hand, hair was settlin' its way inta her gloves. On foot, she would wrestle and fight for Scotland's Freedom *

Caden: Caden followed Bess and Adam into battle riding beside his Uncle as the Robertson clan spread out through those who rode with Bess and Adam. Their clan cry on their lips as blade met blade. The reigns of his horse were set loose to rest against his ncek leaving the young man's hands free to wield his blade which was moving with a surprising speed and accuracy for one so young. Jonas and Caden worked together as a team as if they had fought together for years when in truth this was only Caden's second battle. His bright blue eyes blazed as he fought deftly evading the slice of the enemy blade time and time again.(d)

Eamonn: Battle was complete and utter chaos. There was no sense of the politic mind to be held by those who fought in this arena and upon the bloody field. Screams mixed and mingle with clashing steal. With sword gripped tighting in that gloved fist, he slashed a man across the chest as he rode by, sending the soldier to spin before falling to his death upon the blood soaked ground. Cormack had managed to lead his men around the horde of militia, and were now flanking them, coming up from behind to meet the men in the middle. There was no pity or mercy upon his features, for now, the cold warrior had once again emerged. Checking his steed as he slammed into a swordsman, running him over, Finbar whipped around, and snorted loudly. Recognizing the armour of the Marshal, some men turned and started to head his way, trying to surround the stallion. Growling, Eamonn slammed the sole of his boot into one who was so bold to get close, while his sword loped another's head clean off. Finbar reared, lashing out angrily with forelegs, dashing another in the skull with those heavy hooves, while Eamonn hung on tight, delivering another fatal blow to the chest. Unfortunately, one got close enough to stick the point of a halberd into his side, where the chain mail was the only protection.

Aislin: Indeed Aislin had faith in Dmitrii, for if he fell this time..she would not pick him up again. There was no time like there was before. Now and then, their backs brushed or the back of their arms bumped to let them know they were still close to each other. The sound of metal vs metal rang in the air, along with screams of pain, hoses snorting and neighing, people shouting out to others and calling orders, taunts, sometimes even words that made no sense. Aislin herself had little to no words, for now was no time to waste breath. Panting, she dodged another swing, feeling the blade move along the back of her arm, making her hiss out in pain before she rammed her shoulder into the man dropping the sword and reaching for her dagger to stick it between the opening found in his armor. Blood. It was not as rare as gold or silver today. She was loosing breath and her body was trying to keep up. Turning, she found a spear's side coming right at her head. SMACK. She saw a flash of white and went down onto her rear. Shaking her head, she clutched her dagger in one hand and sword in the other then looked up, seeing the sword blade coming towards her. Twins..clashed with singular. Dmitrii.

Jelenah: Jelenah would remain on the hillsides back behind where the warriors of Skye were defending her with all their might. Lead by the Duchess who was certainly a one of a kind woman. Her husband Adam who was a man of many charms fought along so her as well as those of humble origins. The Slavic woman had followed Bess as far as she could but then ushered her steed back to the camps where she would help over see everal things such as the wounded, messengers, andother things. Jelenah had worried the entire time about Bess and the others as she helped her with her leathers and armor. The golden blond knew this was something that had to be done or the outcome of refusing to do so could and would be much worse. She now stood on the hillside, blue eyes watching as men and women fought, others were already being carried across the fields to he seen about with their wounds. A heavy sigh and she turned to help them before she would come back periodically to watch the raging fights of all those before her. <d

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Adam: The broadsword make a sickening sound as it crashed thru helm and into the soft mush that was onece a man's brain... a man who once made a choice to fight the Grphyon Lord... Arrows whizzed past, bow string hummed in response... the man holding the black and gold banner fell, another quickly took his place, even before the banner touched the ground...Adam swung the broadsword and decapitated a man... then his heart choked him... now separated, Bess was unaware a man was going to shoot the crossbow at her back... The heavy broadsword left his hands end over end and thudded into the man's back, instantly severing the spinal column... he growled and picked up an axe and began to swing like a mad man... Getting back to Bess, he bowed slighty, a boot upon a man's back, then pulled the heavy sword from the torso... soon he was swinging it as if had never left his hands::::

Beathag: " Get off! " She shook them away, parasites from the back of the antagonized White Hound. A tartan and armored fighter had come up on her left, trying to take her down by catching her balance off hand. A hit of defense might have been the irony that left her defensless were it not for him..TWANG...arrows flying into the sky struck the targets of multiple men, taking down the Griffin riders. The crackle of sparks seemed dull in comparison to the cracking of the doffed sir's spine under her foot, running him through their after face down in the dirt like he deserved. As she ended a life, Adam proved to be the living semblance of the vow he'd made to save hers. Blood stained, the wicked pair of blades in hand were fixed to the hooking leather against her back. In no hurry to return the favor, it was happenstance that saw her dart forward to pull Adam to the ground with her, avoiding a rain of arrows. Again, she heard the sound of sparks, watching as the flame tipped specimens snaked through the grass." They 'ave oiled the arrows!" She called out to any of theirs to hear, anyone that could hear her voice over the din of the chaos! Oh, how indeed they'd rollen down the hill into a circle..and suddenly...they began to fight against the backdrop of flames. (d)

Dmitrii: Men continued to fall about them... when piles became to hard to fight around or over, they would move to where the clansmen were... swords clashed, the metal often making sickening noises into men's flesh... he had heard it all before, often enjoying the adrenaline rush... the thrill of victory... but he had a responsibility now, to deliver one Aislin back to her child and husband... then he saw her duck... a spear handle brought to her head and she went down... th adrenaline rush surged in his veins... Twin bars of steel delivered death as he moved toward her... just as the sword of the clansman was descending to kill her, the twins automatically crossed in a brace... Blocking the clansman's effort, he smirked, his arms tensing as the blade bore down upon her... the familiar wicked smirk at the man, then a snap of wrists, and the deadly twins sliced the man's stomach in two directions, his innards falling upon the ground before Aislin... Helping her up, she nears him... the words of thanks not needed to be said, he smiles... winks, then into strong arms, sword filled hands, With two adrenaline filled forms, he kisses her blood smeared face.... not a long passionate kiss, but nay a sisterly one... "Go to yer husband, I have a task to do..." ::::

Brynna: * She'd been hit, the arrow pierced her side, that pissed her off. She pulled the damn thin' out as she gritted her teeth. She saw the flames, she dipped a arrow of her own into a flame, she notched tha' arrow, aimed right at tha' son of bytch , her brother -- John MacLeod...the traitor...she let it fling right into his neck, she must have hit the jugular , for blood spurted everywhere. * There ye are ye damn bloody hypocrite. Ye traitor...I hope yer soul rots in hell. Ye left our clan wit' out its leader and ye became a turnback. NEVER! WE nae yer kind. DIE! A slow agonizin' death!" * She pushed him off of her as he fell tae tha' ground. He had sold their clan out fer a few pounds. Her side was bleedin' pretty bad, but she was nae done fightin' yet. There was more tae be done. She was becomin' light headed from loss of blood. But she still went on, fer how long? She nae knew *

Caden: Jonas and Caden created a path through the battling men and women. Until a lance, redirected by the rearing of Jonas's horse, went through the chest of the animal rather then into Jonas himself. He fell from his horse cursing for the loss of a good horse and friend. Seeing his Uncle go down Caden was off his horse and at his Uncle's side. Other then a limp in the man's gait Jonas was fine. For now anyway. Seeing the two vulnerable without their horses several converged in on them and the two went back to back ready to fight for each other, for the honor of those they served, and for their very lives. (d)

Eamonn: Eamonn grimaced and cried out as the point of the halberd was thrusted into his side, the links of chain managing to help lessen the blow, but nevertheless the tip pieced. Finbar lowered himself and was back on all four, keen ears heard the cry of his ride, and swung that large head around to lips drew back to bite the man still holding the halberd trying to dig it into his side more. The man screamed, giving Eamonn enough time to hack the halberd in half, the tip falling to the ground, and snatching the man close by the collar of his clothing, sunk the blade into his stomach before dropping him to the ground. A faint voice was heard...feminine, and sounding of Bess. Arrows? Greeneyes turned toward the heavens to see a hail of airs descending upon them! "ARROWS! LOOK OUT!" He shouted, twisting around to try to shove past the crowding mass of men around him, trying to corral them in. THUD. An arrow tip pierced the mail cover gap between pauldrons and chestplate, sending Eamonn to jolt back a bit. Hissing, the Marshall kicked another away and quickly snapped the shaft of the arrow, not daring to pull it out admist the battle. With " the splintered shaft, he stabbed a man in the eye with it quickly, and brought his sword down to cleave another in the head.

Aislin: A delayed reaction, that could have cost her, was redeemed by Dmitrii and she had many thanks for it. No expression was spared at the sight of innards going to the ground between her feet. Her only goal was to get up to her feet. No sooner did she get up, did Dmitrii pull her close and wink to her. That alone made her scuff and almost smile, until she felt him pull her close and....kiss her! Shocked, she pushed out her own breath from her lungs before he snapped her out of what happened. Husband. Eamonn! " Ah release ye" she wanted to thank him..but had little time as she turned around and saw Eamonn. Hew as in his own mess...one she would help him with. Arrows!! Oceanic eyes glanced up in time to see fire raining down. SHYT! Quickly she placed her daggers into her shealths and grabbed two shields from the dead bodies on the ground, lowering herself as she held them above her and did a odd crab sideways walk only to pause when she heard the arrows hit her shields. THUD THUD THUD. When she heard no more...she tossed the sheilds a side and stood up to start running again, moving around others. Where was he...there! She paused when she saw a man moving towards Finbar with a spear, charging. The right dagger was pulled out and without hesitation, she threw it towards the male, catching him in the back of his thigh so he went down. More men! They never stopped! Running towards the other with a sword that was heading towards Eamonn, she jumped onto his back, wrapping her legs and arms around him. He bucked and shook her as she yelled out. Her hat went flying from her head and her braid went tumbling down. Exposed. the left dagger was pulled out and used to put a larger smile across his neck, sending them both to the ground.

Adam: The broadsword swung as the Grphyon Lord was tackled by a familiar, though, tougher touch... Bess... she had pulled him down in the nick of time... and down the hill they rolled... Now cut off from the others, they had a small band of clansmen all to themselves... Adam, his bearded face hiding the wicked smirk, tosses the helm aside... "Come naew lads, yae dunno need tae fear us... ye have a choice... tae join us... or tae join yer ancestors in hev'n er hell... I pay nae matt'r..." parrying the broadsword... Would they give up? Or attempt to be the bravest and take on the Aberdeens whilst they be alone? :::::

Beathag: It was either the roll down the hill or being impaled with flaming arrows. Grass gave way, tumble after tumble, uprooting from the ground to find they were surrounded by MacDonald bully boys. Lordless, cut off from their forces, a mixture of weigning pride and desperation crippled their hope as they were confronted with the image of their sovereign heads. "Oh, come now.." Golden hair dallied infront of her face to swing low, parted only by the piercing green eyes, that sadistic smile. "Tis ye one chance at quarter, lads. We may nay be sae inclide tae give it later." Kneeling down, she selected the axe of a dead man as her own. Ah. How fine the weight felt in her hands! Did the smile grow? Oh, a little. Muttering, begging forgiveness, the clansmen took to kneel before the Griffin Lord and swear fealty, save for the smattering of stupid simpletons that refused with drawn swords. "Let me at the Ainglish n' his bytch!" The axe made a half revolution, was lifted, and by the time the pair had started to make their formation to overwhelm her, the axe was brought up in a reverse motion to take off his head from front to back.. and of the second? With his fellow's remains attached, she offered them to him as a gift before bringing her boot into his stomach, and the axe down into the side of his neck. "Damn right I be the Duke's bytch, n' m'bite is worse than mah bark..anyone else want tae test m'husband?" (d)

Dimitrii: Released... he smirked... and smiled at Aislin... "Thank ye M'Lady..." then as someone screamed arrows, she found a shield... Dmitrii just looked up and stood there... no shield, no protection... He just stood there, swords in hand, arms outstretched... like a madman... daring the arrows to end his life... but nothing... His wounds were opened again, not as bad as before, but seeping... and a few new scratches, minor cuts, and bruises... but no arrow strikes... Dmi just laughed and yelled out... "Yu bloody clansmen cannot even hit me Damn yu !!! By now the Vanguard was almost thru the Clans' lines... divided them in half, they did... Dmitrii pointed to the hill... "ARCHERS !!" Men scrambled for horses... while Dmi continued to hack and slice his way into the crowd, as the odds increased with the departing horsemen... Dmitrii's insaneness accordingly... those twin blades found man after man... Spin, slice, turn cut, block block, turn slice... double turn and dip, gritting his teeth, he double bladed one man almost cutting him in half. Growling Dmi disappeared inside the valley on the opposite side of the fire... fighting his way thru the clan lines... When the fires would finally burn out... Dmi was no where to be found... no dead body, no remains, no walking Kievan warrior... it was like he disappeared::::

Brynna: * Brynna sat atop Cicero...poised wit' arrows...she notched one, aimed and let it fling itself into a MacDonald's head, split all the way down in the middle...smilin'..she knew she was not long until she would pass out, so she made good time while it was there...a dagger flew into a nother bully boy...."DIE!!!" She rode her horse through the clan lines, flingin' this an' that towards the bully boys...she was nearly spent now...Cicero knew his mistress was hurt, nae how bad. Her eyes closin' little more as seconds went by...Cicero rode up tae a tall tree. Her arm went around his neck, as her head lay on his neck...fer Brynna, the seconds were gone.*

Eamonn: Eamonn was indeed in his own mess, more and more men catching on in trapping up the Marshal and slowing him down so he could not charge. Silently, he cursed, and wheeled Finbar around to strike another getting too close to him and his faithful mount. Frowning deeply, not only from the pain as he tried to ignore it, but from the boldness of the men in their desperation to take him down. Things were not looking good. But it was his duty to protect his horse, and that he would do to death. A bold swordman came rushing towards him and the dapple-grey stallion, and green eyes looked up as he snatched the sword from his victim's chest, and tugged on the reins to pull Finbar away from the man's charge. However, it never came. That same soldier came out of nowhere, leaping upon the swordman's back and wrestling with him. However, when that hat came off, and the braid revealed, his eyes widened and his heart stopped in his chest. AISLIN?! WHAT WAS SHE DOING HERE?! She took the man down, but unfortunately was dragged down with the body. Eamonn lost it, then and there. Spurring Finbar forward, he rushed closer to his wife, swinging and smiting another's ruin upon the bloody lawn. Quickly he swung down from the stallion's back, and dodged a swipe at the head. The enraged Marshal, fueled by fear, slammed his fist and hilt of sword into the man's face, knocking him back, and slit his throat. whipping out Brycean's dirk, he leapt to his wife's side, long legs clearing a fallen body as Finbar stood close and helped fend off who he could. There was no time to question her presence here, there was a need to protect her first, then after the fray, they would 'talk'. The sword was lifted, blocking a stike, and with the dirk in his hand, he quickly lashed out at the man, fighting wildly as he watched his wife's back, killing any and ALL who appeared with ill intentions. There was pure murder in the depths of those green orbs as he twirled, slicing a footman across the abdomen and kicking him to the ground. The dirk was thrown hard and fast, slamming into another's skull and sending him reeling backwards.

Aislin Knees hit the ground with a thud before her arms unwrapped from the man's shaking body as the blood poured from his neck to coat his armor. She felt light headed. Gasping for air and trying to give it to her greedy lungs, she looked: up and noted the hat was no longer stopping the light from gracing her forehead. That hat..was gone. Exposed. She saw her husband looking right at her and then, go into a rage. One she had not seen in some time. Scrambling to her feet, both hands went to the long daggers at her thighs and pulled them out, holding them firmly in her blood covered hands as Eamonn appeared at her side. No words. No expression. Now was NOT the best time to talk! For the first time, she placed her back to Eamonn's with Finbar to their side. A neigh in the distance had Aislin's eyes go beyond those around her to see Echo was charging towards her..coming back around. No one knew what Echo had been before her life with them. Charge. Two men came towards her and those daggers were moved with precision, left, right, up down. Quickly. Move faster! Fight harder! She screamed out, trying to keep her adrenaline pumping as she fought to protect herself and her husband.

Adam: The split decisions of the group... some to swear fealty...some to gain fame by killing the Aberdeens. Adam saw Bess pick up the axe, and he just smiled and leaned on his broadsword. What better way to humble the clans... to let a woman beat them while her husband stood by watching. All thru the battle, Adam just realized one thing... no English... apparently his plan had worked... no wonder it was easier than expected here in Sleat:::::

Beathag: Humble or butcher, whichever your pleasure, Beathag did it accordingly. Adam almost laughed with delight as his wife did away with the idiots to leave the lowered, kneeling intelligencia among the Clan MacDonald. She had left her axe in Turas Lan, thinking to move with a quicker set of weaponry. But to find an axe...to have it in her hand? A Valkerie came to inhabit the body of the Highlander, carving a way for her and Adam to return into the midst of the fray with their handful of newly one men! "COME ON!" She growled, fighting harder, longer, faster until the pair of them were lost in the rising towers of smoke. Somewhere in the flames...a woman's laugh was followed by the split of bone (d)

Brynna: - Lord Wolffe MacGregor, brother tae Sir Andrew who had recently been kilt, saw Brynna lying on her horse, passed out from loss of blood. He and Pepper rode up tae her mount, taking the reins, he slowly pulled the horse to where his encampment was. He was a healer as well as anyone. He would see if he could help the lass. A stitch or three might be all that was needed. He admired the Aberdeens and their fight. He was a s dirty as the rest. But Brynna was badly injured, she needed seeing to now. He would do his very best by her -

Eamonn: Eamonn had gone mad and was fighting like a madman, striking hard, acutely, and without mercy. He kept his back to Aislin, preventing people from attacking her from behind as husband and wife, for the first time, wheeled around in a constantly moving circle, protecting the other as their blades gleamed and glistened brightly in the light. Blood splashed and splayed about across his face as he spun around, whipping that sword across another man's throat and sending more crimson liquid into the air. Death was his fortune, and Eamonn prayed that it was not his wife's. Glancing over his shoulder, to look at her, he turned to see another pike man rushing toward her in hopes to skewer her. Snarling savagely, he threw himself for the pike man, crashing into him and sending long polearm flying to only clatter to the ground. Over and over he stabbed the man in the chest, making sure he was good and dead before wiping the blade of his sword clean and sheathing it. the pike was picked up, his new choice of weapon. Spinning the arm in his hands, the pike twirled in the motion of a pinwheel, before hands still it and the point was thrusted into the stomach of a soldier. Yanking it out, Eamonn quickly stepped to the side and smacked another across the face hard. "AISLIN! GET ON FINBAR. NOW!" He commanded, whacking another in the face. The moment his wife did as she was told, he sent a swift kick to get the men away from the horse and his wife. "GET BACK TO THE CAMP! NOW!" He commanded, and before she could argue, he send Finbar off with a smack to the rear. Eamonn would follow behind on foot, cutting down ANYONE who dared to face the Lord Marshal.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Beathag emerged from the lower field furrow with an axe, blood on her hands, and the subjucated men who knew enough to surrender at the Duke's command. Let passerby or peat bog claim the remnants of the ones left behind! It had alarmed the men a woman could kill without a second thought, for at a time when some wrapped their minds around the thoughts of where a woman's place ought be, those of Skye were defining it with practice in the art of war.

A wife would reveal to her husband an understanding of his chosen path while demonstrating that she was more than he could believe. Another woman would take the life of her brother. Demonstrative sweetness would accompany them to provide nimble comand in the same hands that comforted, while others played the tunes of the nation to remind them of what they stood for.

It was some time twixt twilight forgoing to dawn when the clicking clang of chainmail beat against the slide of leathers to annouce her return. Fires burned with soliders gathered in tight circles, talking of loss, victory, and if they had any prevelance here. On the borders of the tent city, bodies had been gathered to lay side by side. The poor man beside the veteran. It was a sediment echoed many times over: these times did not discriminate.

The string to hold the gauntlets over wrists in place were loosened, slid over dirt ridden hands. Were there more lines there now, or was it the blood making new impressions? She studied her hands as if they had not been there until now. War made her alien to life fact. Part of the swirls in the palm of the hand were rubbed off, the lines of fate made deeper by scar cut. How hard would the lady in waiting need scrub to make them white again?

She reached the tent where she lived in this strange world with her husband of a month's time, a little longer at most. If any lived to their vows fufillment, it were those who lived beneath the reign of the Griffin banner. A piece of the standard was limp in the entrance. It was a piece of them, so the Lady Griffin woul pick it up and offer it to the Lord as a token. At first, she said little by way of paltry greeting. Beathag did not believe in wasted words. True, she enjoyed speaking, but it was only of late that the act truly had any delight. For years she said only what was necessary, smiled to appear charming in order to succeed at piecing together a world of personal silence.

It was her belief that she earned the right to speak and hear in return the voices of those she loved. When it was time to at last fill the encroaching hour with words, she said this:

"Dae ye think the dead share thoughts, layin' as such side by side? M'thinks e'en the spirit lays a little more. Some accept death. Some dun nae, tis wot m'mother would say. The cheeks will nae pale n' they only seem sleepin, waitin' for the one who will listen tae wot they must say afore they leave."

[pattie]

Lord MacGregor had tha' aforethought of sending a missive out to her , letting her know about Brynna. Reading the detailed note, she shook her head. She wasna tae far away from the fighting.
She would mount her steed and they were off to where tha' fightin' was. [/b]


~~ Getting to Lord MacGregor's encampment, she curtsied to the Wolf Knight. Sitting by Brynna's side, she wiped her brow. She was burning up with fever. A brow rose slowly as she looked up to Wolffe ~~ "She is burning up with fever...she must be seen by a healer my Lord."
She would stay with Brynna for as long as it took until the fever broke or they stopped fighting. Placing ice chips to her dry lips, she remained good to her word. There she would be, it kept her mind busy, so she would not miss Duncan sae much.
Lately though, she'd been feeling much more tired than usual. There had been much going on around lately. Her wedding, clan fights here and there, losing Andrew, Brynna had been stunned by his death. Jem being sick. Lady Arian had her hands full dealing with Jem and Gavin. Missing her husband sae much.
Everything was taking it's toll on her, but she kept on going.
She wondered how her friend Eirian was. Good she prayed.
She would send her a missive later on after things settled.

[King Adam Aberdeen I]

Adam stood just outside the tent as his wife and companion walked up. Sea-green eyes met hers and a smile crossed his face. No words spoken, he pushed the tent flap open and allowed her entry into the tent, and into a simple embrace; stealing moments that seemed to avoid the newly married lovers… though in their hearts they had been bonded long ago. Days, weeks, months, turned into years as the two continued to search for peace and a more tranquil life.

She looked to him and spoke her words of questioning wisdom… with that he could only give her a squeeze and reassure her… “Luv, ah dunnae know what the dead does after the body goes cold… Ah know what priests say, ah know what pagans say… ah dunnae know what they say or feel, those left afield after mae blade cuts them down; mabbe they bae damning me for their eternity, who knows…” he paused…

“…but ah do know one thing… should ah die by blade, sickness, or plain old age… yae shall know ah be around yu always… Ah shall be in every snowfall o’winter tae warm ye…in every flower that grows in yer garden in spring… in summer, ah be the rays that tans yer lilly white arse… and in the leaves that cover the ground in fall… all ye need tae dae is look around… for ah luv yer more’n yu care tae know…” with that he lowered his head and began to kiss her with all the passion his tired, and achy, body could afford.

The day had gone well for them, as Sleat had surrendered itself to the Griffin Lord. No longer divided, Sleat’s Lord was reinstated… the clansmen either died on the field of battle, or surrendered to swear fealty to the black and gold of Skye. Adam’s letter to Lord Maubrey and the English King was successful, and though history would record it as a strategic victory, the real accolades should be presented to the riders who delivered the letters. No one but them know what they had to endure to accomplish the delivery of the Griffin’s Letter. It was the riders’ diligence that ensured no English troops were anywhere near Sleat. If not for them, then the Battle at Sleat would have gone completely different.

Once again lists would be drawn up and delivered to Turas Lan annotating who was missing, had died, or been wounded, to the best of the scribe’s ability.

[odis]

Odis had fallen in with the rest of the infantry, it was the place in which he was the most comfortable. A place he had walked for many years. To his left and right were others of his age , veterans of wars of the past. As well as boys , green but learning quickly the devious path of death that wove its threads around each and everyone of them. One of the other vets , a quite man named Jacob had become his right hand while his horse always present to his left.
They stood among many of the younger generation, listening to the bragging of what they would do, but both older men knew that before the day was done a good fourth of them would be injuried or dead. Dressed again in the roman boiled leather breastplate and the blade held in his hand .. they waited for the orders to be called. Then.. it came.

A man losses much of himself while in battle, instinct and the sheer will to want to live overpower common logic. The sea of blades and screams and blood poured before them while the men worked their way forward. The adrenaline for the battle pumped through the blood as the blades dipped and slashed. Elbows and fists.. though nothing without giving.. small injuries were taken, cuts and bruises marked Odis's arms and torso. A good solid slice had been delivered to the thigh , yet all of these things were ignored when seeing one of the lads who had promised a lass back home forever to be hers.. fell. Odis felt his anger, the blinding sort of hate bubble upward and overwhelm any common sense he had to begin with.

Mind not much given the fact they were at war.. he took on any number of smaller injuries to add to those he had before. Yet he cut down all that he could within range of that blade of his. His hands, body , even his face coated with that slick crimson fluid, some his own.. most those of the enemies. He stood panting for breath as his eyes watched over the field. Jacob offered a salute before going back to the grim task of cutting the throats of those that would not survive. It was an honor thing.. not many would understand. The salute was returned as he cleaned his blade before aiding in the task of removing the bodies of those that would survive.. or had a chance at it.

[Sir Dmitrii Zurban]

DMITRII at SLEAT

Released from a vow…Dmitrii smirked... then smiled at Aislin... "Thank ye M'Lady..." then as someone screamed arrows, some hid under cover of any sorts…others found shields to protect them from the falling barrage of arrows... Dmitrii looked up and stood there... no shield, no protection... He just stood there, swords in hand, arms outstretched... like a madman... daring the arrows to end his life... but nothing... His wounds were opened again, not as bad as before, but seeping... and a few new scratches, minor cuts, and bruises... but no arrow strikes... Dmi just laughed and yelled out... "Yu bloody clansmen cannot even hit me Damn yu !!!”

By now the Vanguard was almost thru the Clans' lines... divided them in half, they did... Dmitrii pointed to the hill... "ARCHERS !!" Men scrambled for horses... while Dmi continued to hack and slice his way into the crowd, as the odds increased with the departing horsemen... Dmitrii's insaneness grew accordingly... those twin blades found man after man... Spin, slice, turn cut, block, block, turn, slice... double turn and dip, gritting his teeth, he double-bladed one man almost cutting him in half. Growling, fighting, battling like a man with no reason to live, Dmi disappeared inside the valley on the opposite side from Adam and Bess…of the fire... fighting his way thru the clan lines...

Hours later, when the flames finally burned out... Dmi was no where to be found... no dead body, no remains, no walking Kievan warrior... it was like he disappeared.

Adam had wanted Dmitrii to become his worth that day… he knew the twin blades of death could even the number, and maybe even expected a high price of Dmi’s death… but he needed that edge… he needed the man’s wrath to even odds against them… but he had not expected the man to just disappear.

Flames… The heat… the men who wanted to kill him… he did not care if he lived or died… his friend, his Lord needed him to do a job, his will be done…… and that is what Dmi did… battle his way thru the Clan lines… killing, wounding, or maiming as many as he could… Life meant nothing else to him, at this moment.

No more men left to fight… Dmi looked around and saw that he was the only one left… but he was encircled by fire… the will to die had vanished as thoughts of Kaelyn, her impending marriage, and the girl upon the wall flooded his mind. His heart raced. Lady Willa gave him a reason to smile… could there be more? If he stayed here, he would never have the chance to find out…

Looking around he cursed… no way out… then around a bend came a wounded horse… after much coaxing, he was able to secure the reins of the destrier in his hands… then he got an idea… from several clansmen he took their heavy cloths from their dead forms… Wrapping them about him in a heavy wrap, he mounted the horse, then urged it forward… the animal balking at the intense flames…

Riding the perimeter of the flames he saw a weak point… then spurring the horse hard, the beats jumped into the flames… Dmi rode hard, the heat intense, the flames bit at the cover garments… By God’s graces, Dmi and the animal leapt out the other side of the barrage of flames… the garments afire, Dmi quickly fell of the horse, rolling, then discarding the garments.

Looking up, he thanked God right then and there… dropping to one knee, his hands intertwined, his eyes to the heavens… “Lord my God, I sing praises on high… for yer Mercy, I thank you for the second chance despite my transgressions upon man, woman, and beast…”

Finding himself alone, tired, sore, and far away from the Gryphon Army and weary, he wrapped the reins of the animal around his hand and laid down under a tree… soon sleep would take him.

TWO

The Battle of Sleat was short compared to many battles he had been in… and when Dmitrii awoke, it was as if he was in a daze… standing up, his leg pained him once again… he could not ride the horse, for it too had been wounded. So he and his new traveling companion would walk to the nearest village for assistance.

Two days… Two days would Dmitrii be considered missing in Turas Lan… Adam worried that he had lost a long time friend… and a fierce warrior. For two days, Kaelyn, Adam, and others would check the posted lists to see if any missing would be found… either dead or wounded.

Two days more… he and his new companion spent in the village… people feeding them, bandaging their wounds… resting. “I must be going… I have consumed too much of yer fine assistance, my good people of Loch Leiber… My Lord Griffin awaits my return to rid the Isles of those who wish to control the freedom of Skye…” Oh he gave such a fine speech, he had the people virtually eating out of his hand.

Two whole days and nights… Dmi and the wounded steed walked together back to Turas Lan… to friends and home…

HOME

Home… Castle Zurban… it was a fine site !!! once upon Zurban land… he released his travelling companion… and dove into the waters that surrounded his home… he splashed and jumped, flopped and frolicked like a child of summer…

It was his home… and he was glad to be there… the servants gathered about him explaining his name was upon the lists of the missing and presumed dead… “Da… I was dead… but I have returned… to haunt yu all…” he laughed.

Dmitrii was a different man after Sleat… what caused the change? Did he realize that we was not yet determined by God to die… was it the lil girl upon the wall? Was it his sister? Or was it all these things, all jumbled upon his brain at once… what ever the reason… life was anew…