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Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Oct 4, 2008 15:31:53 GMT -6
I. A Pledge Broken - Kendrew's Loss of Freedom & The Tale of the 30 Peasents
"You are no longer a King o' mine!" He spat on the ground where the leopard mantle was tossed. The pattern of the creature was foreign, inlaid with the eyes of an unfortunate creature to be fashioned in an artisan's whimsy. Cold. lifeless. Black pitch voids with no sign of loyalty. Drained of all that they once held, they, too, were a sign of the cold gaze that looked as if to bore a whole in to the head of his leige-no-more. What is it when a man loses his faith in his fellow? To be chosen as the better of thousands to prove no more greater than the dirt under the heel of his own boot. Instead of one of a hundred men who blended, he stood as one alone. It was like the quiet before the storm. Robert Bruce bellowed his edict:
Take him, he is a traitor! They all are treacherous and the peasentry at the walls wouldn't have died if you were not meddling in affairs! Take him, take e'ery last one of them. I hereby sentence those tha' wish to rebell to death!
A stunned wave rippled through the quiet crowd. On the platform, it moved slower than the quickness of the rest. He was reaching for the baliff who struck the Duchess, moving to secure the Duke. He pushed past all manner of people. They held one another back, spurned one another on, but the ultimate outcome was obvious. Not long after he had pulled Adam back from what he'd percieved of him going forward to kill the Bruce, he found his arms restrained. There was Beathag's plea for him to be released, her demand mingled with the expressions of shock. He didn't go easily! It took four men to subdue the one. Four men against the Steel Tooth of the West. "Take them from 'ere, Take them away Flynn!" He bellowed to the Irishman as they pulled him past. He dug his feet hard in the packed earth square, turning his head to any and all that saw. "Go!" One man wrestled against the binds that were being put to him. Commands to subdue him at all means were issued. Hands raised in the air. A strike to his face, one to his brow that broke the skin to produce blood. His eye was swelling by the time he spied Maahes, ready to tear through the fray. "No!" he commanded of his own commander, "Ye must see to them, lad! Waste nay time!" Slowly, slowly, the earth eroded under the ball of his foot. His heels collapsed. The weight of gravity was hard to fight, and the crowd began to swallow him whole.
He was a man for whom words came not easy or much at all. Wisdom was simple man's common. He was not a great hero unless one was in a place to believe it heroism, nor did he have legends long like the lineages he guarded. The men who captured him, however, would later recall this among themselves:
One of us alone could not hold him down. It was as if we were at the foot of a mountain that our King willed us to destroy. That sort of power is left better to the hands of God than man. Two men, nor three. Four of us only made his body bend, but without the force of a blow, that would have been our end. He called out to everyone that he knew. He had no loyalty left for our King, but I still admire him for the loyalty he had for the one called Adam Aberdeen, and his wife, The Harper. He bid them all be taken away and in this showed no care for himself, for he knew he would be taken. Many of us do not accept such a fate. He only wished it be no one else's.
In the public square they pulled his weapons from him. The old broadsword, his gloves, his daggers so that he had no teeth with which to bite them back. They beat him until his head fell foreward and the last images he saw were his people being pulled one way in the sea of lives, while he was tugged another. He was made an emblem of dishonor. If he would strip a kingly gift, so he would be stripped of his other things. Cloaked figures waltzed before his eyes, or was it only his imagination? Someone wanted to protest but stayed still.
"Silence the voice of the rabble," the Captain told them. "If he would rather speak for the undeservin' than his own King. So be it." They called him the Twenty-Nine Calls, so he would be brow beaten with the fact that twenty-nine of the peasent bodies had been counted for burial. Indeed they hit him even after he could do nothing, jabbed him. It was the hardest of subjucation to watch, for in it the question was posed:
What would become of them that stay in the Bruce's domain?
He wouldn't know of the one girl that lived, or if she made it to safer arms. Twenty-nine died, but thirty of them together had a tale that no man wanted to hear. Blind force for a blind ordered will completed the task the King had set before them. When he awoke, Twenty-Nine Calls was christened to him with the feeling of the bruises under his tunic. He'd been stripped of his chainmail, his breast plate, so he felt keen the flesh beneath the wool. His head was annointed in bloody sweat. Curled on a palet bed, his surroundings were not filth ridden dwelling of a vagabond nor the apartments used to imprison the rich. Still, the wind whistled through cracks in the stone, and the walls were moist. The damp environment made him cough, and he spat blood out of his mouth. Froth was wiped from his lips, the only moisture in his cotton-thick mouth, at want for liquid. He went to the thin slit window, putting his hand on bars as he gazed out to see where he sojourned. "Windmill Hill, Twenty-Nine." Gruff voice taunted him with the name, and to spite them he didn't turn around. "Did you hear me, Twenty-Nine? Took ye to the Fort at Windmill Hill. Use it as a prison now. But you shouldn't be here long. Makin' a gallows for ye in the square out of the platform, heh. Nice gibbets swingin' for the public to see." Windmill Hill was one of three hills surrounding Aberdeen. The Castle sat on one, St Katherine's on the other, leaving the third to be where he pressed his aching forehead against the stone. "Gots last requests? Think 'bout it. King says you are to have what you wish afore he kills you." He turned around to look on him. "You can nay give me what I want. So give me nothin'.." He glowered. As they spoke, he had noticed a poor man being drug out to have his hands chopped off, or so the executioner was prattling on. He peered as he struggled, but the poor man's hands were in chains. "What did this poor man do here?" He pointed out to the Fort's courtyard. The guard chuckled in a mocking tone "You are a piece of work," Kendrew snarled, only to be told, "Don't you see the emblem o' your Lord Duke, Twenty-Nine? Caught him tryin' to stop the guard from the King's orders. Caught a few of them, in fact. All sorts of judgement planned for them....you're gonna be the last to go, get to listen to your men beforehand.."
He ran to the bars, beat them. He tossed a piece of rusted steel from old pins at the guard, only to be cut with the tip of a sword thrust in. The guard mocked his nightmare, laughed as he demanded the men be released. So the doors were opened again, and they put his head into buckets of water to quiet him to exhaustion.
Maybe it was the quality of the dim, dank light, but it formed an image that comforted him. Their laughs turned to Liliana's voice telling him that all would be well. He heard her, smelled her, and she was all around him:
I am sorry I have made you a widow before your time.
Certainly, he would die here, or so he was near to thinking. That bit of knowledge would die with him, along with many things. As his hands flailed out to find and swallow air as he lifted himself up... he curled in his fingers instinctively to protect what he had worn for mere hours only:
His wedding band.
-.-.-.-
Before the arrest, and before the massacre of the peasents. Before the scene 'pon the platform...
Kendrew: He couldn't deny her anything; neither possesion, his touch, or the knowledge beneath a warrior's hand. A gentle mind like that should be shielded, but that was the folly of most men. Women often knew more than they'd ever believe. While the others laughed at the Moor's clothes or noticed the decorations for later ceremony, he pulled her gently to the rear of the party. "The King has not just given the South in surrender.." He whispered, low in her ear. It seemed as if he whispered to her a love song. "He has sold it, to the English. E'en in the country's center." (d)
Liliana: Pulled away from those who she had been amongst, Liliana moved gently into Kendrew's grasp. She did not fight nor would she ever. It was his words though, whispered close as if lover's sharing secrets, that had brows furrowing in confusion,"Why would he do such..." It took only moments for brows to smooth, smile to form, incase any watched them. Body tensing slightly, something he would feel, she'd reach up a hand to gently touch his cheek,"What will happen now?" (d)
Kendrew: "They promised him a place he could keep, I...don' tknow, Liliana." He smothered his face in her hair for the illusion to hold. He drowned in the scent of sweet things to hide the tension his expression belied. His hands rubbing her back were firm at the first knuckle, hooking the fingers over as if they wanted to draw in to a fist. "What he's done will surely be coming to light. Tha' sort of thing is often hard to hide.." They didn't notice the absence of Liliana, and he had not been among them long enough to be worth a passing glance. His eyes told the tale of his feelings. A deep betrayal clashed with anger. A man for whom his beliefs were solid until he had come here, seen, and heard too much. For whom twenty-eight years of service was being partitioned away as if it meant nothing. Worse still...among the news....but this he could not say. Not yet. "I must find out more." (D)
Liliana Heart aching for Kendrew, for what she heard in his voice, Liliana's slim hand moved to stroke along his back soothingly. She knew naught what to say. Her own emotions were hard to decipher: shock, disbelief, anger mixing amongst sorrow. The last for Kendrew. For the harsh way his eyes had been opened to the reality of a King he had clearly believed in. It was his last words that had fear racing through her,"How? Will you leave?" Thoughts of Kendrew, in danger or hurt, made her frightened of him leaving and arms would circle his waist as if to never let go. (d)
Kendrew: "M'duty is very clear now, n' what Adam and Beathag do not know could kill them. It could kill so many innocents, n' it could tear us all before we even leave this soil. I'm gaein in to the countryside, perhaps South. I'd draw attention to go in a garrison of the King." The baritone was firm and the resolution the sort to make a woman's soul quake. He had already decided his actions! The circle of her arms was one place, maybe the only left to him, with a deep seated meaning. He pulled her in close to him beneath the eves of the building. In the afternoon shade, the air was cool. As if a chilled breath could steal her away he held her tight. "I want ye to get Jelenah n' be ready to leave, with Beathag, at a moment's notice..." (d)
Liliana: A shake of head, braid swaying, as her body shivered with dread. The way he spoke...as if her words would not sway his mind...made her want to cry out. Holding it in, knowing that to do so would draw attention, she whispered heatedly,"What if something should happen to you? Who will protect you?" The idea of her waiting with Bess and Jelenah for company while he went off...no, she could not do it. (d)
Kendrew: "I will protect m'self, but you must be protected Liliana" The conversation grew hot as it changed course. His hand cupped her face with love as his voice, in that same fashion, became that of a man who ought not be swayed. "Who shall soothe me if anythin' befalls you? Yours is the life that endures. Is this so hard for a woman to see? You do not belong covered in dirt with blood around you, Lily!" (d)
Liliana: "I shall not be soothed if anything shall befall you! I have lost too many that I love as I stood by and watched! I will not do so again!" Sorrow, remembered pain, echoed in her words. It showed in the chocolate eyes that locked with his own gaze, beseeching him to re-think his actions. To think about what she would endure if left without him. "I love you, you are my heart, and I will go insane with not knowing if you are safe or...or..." Voice breaking she'd stop speaking and fall silent. (d)
Kendrew: "I would not wish this on you, Liliana. Why are ye so damned anxious to take it woman?" He braced his hands at her shoulders, firmly shaking them. Yet, no malice was it. Only to ascertain the sense she seemed to obliterate with every pleading word, every beseeching glance. "I love you. Ye be everythin' to me and a man is to guard tha'! Your plight of waiting is far better than to live it. I do not know what I will find. E'en a beautiful place can become a killing field Liliana." If only he oculd frighten her enough to remain! She had seen too much, known too much so did not look on things with naieve eyes. "Lily.." (d)
Liliana: There was no fear or flinching at the tightening grip of Kendrew's hands. Even his shaking did not seem to rattle her. He would not hurt her. Instead she mimicked his words,"Ye be everythin' to me and a woman is to guard tha'!" If anything she had learned from the women of Skye. She may be a woman, but it did not mean she had to stand by and watch her man go into danger. Not when she could go with him. Protect him even. Somehow....(d)
Kendrew: The women of Skye were devil-ridden with sickness that made them forget the fairness of their sex, or the reason of how it was to be. Either that, or the same infection took hold in a man that he saw this wilesome, obstinate creatures as the God's true women of valor. "Ye defy all manner of sense, woman. Do not mock me! Do not mock me for wanting you safe..for..wanting you." He drew her against him, tipped her head backwards to press his lips against her own. He spoke against them, "damn you.." he whispered his plea, " Do not do this.." Knowing that it was sealed before it even began (d)
Liliana: There was no resistance in the kiss given, his words making her ache with longing and love. Finally when it broke, cheeks flushed instead of pale as before, she whispered,"Do not ask me to stand by and wait. Do not ask me to lie in my bed...unknowing of your welfare. Please..." She knew that he was weakening and felt guilt at making him do so. Looking at him with bravery in chocolate eyes, she'd murmur,"If you leave me, I will follow." (d)
Kendrew His heart beat stilled in that moment so that he had to breathe in her air instead of his. "I love you n' I have to go now. Go back to the others, go on!" He kissed the white cheek but duty did not allow him to surrender to the guilt at pailing her expression. The shadow of his mountain was gone from her as he turned on his heel to make for the stables at the wall, to be on his journey. Take her in your palm, O Lord, n' take her from this place.. (d)
Liliana Mouth agape, left to stare as he walked off, she muttered under her breath,"Stubborn man. Does he not think I will?" Pasting a serene expression on her face, for sake of those that might be watching, she followed after him. No words were spoken. Hopefully he would realize that she had meant those words. Men, thinking that we women need to be kept safe and coddled!, the thought was filled with outrage. (d)
Kendrew Women, Adam's pleasure n' his bane. It was the serpent's fault, for showing them the way to the blasted Tree of Knowledge, for making them the first to have eyes opened to the way the world ought to have been in accordance with the first to see the flaws. He did not look back over his shoulder, and only knew her coming from the corner of his eye as he was near to coming out of sight! He snarled. Women, ne'er listening! Yes, the thought was in his mind so that by the time he turned to look on her it was with the same disapproval to match her outrage. At the door of the stable he only crossed his arms (d)
Liliana Brow lifting, face set in stubborn lines, she paused outside the stables where he stood. Crossing arms over chest, canting head to the left, she stared at him with defiant chocolate eyes. "Did you think my words to be idle? I meant what I said. I will not be swayed." Liliana had grown since first coming to Skye. There was no lingering traces of the frightened, quiet creature. When had that occurred? Perhaps when Kendrew had chased away the nightmares. Given her hope and love. (d)
Kendrew "Nay, I didn't." He remained a face impassive. Of course, this would only aggrivate the woman more, but could not once in this Court's history a man's word be the finality of it? She wasn't Beathag nor Aislin, with some profilic (if not ungodly) ability with a weapon. Even so, was it wrong to want to see her no longer hurt? "M'words, too, were not idle. You will remain here." He puncuated the last word so none would follow it. A stable boy watched as the lordly pair squared off. His mother was never so bold before his father, but she did have quite a bit of spark. He nearly fell over as he tightened the belt of the saddle on the underside of the horse! Strong, sure steps rang out as the man moved to take his animal in to care. Shooing the lad off, he hitched there reigns himself. (d)
Liliana: "Oh will I?" Propping fisted hands on hips, no attention paid to the stable boy, she followed him further into the stable. Lifting both brows now, Liliana shrugged,"The last I checked I was a woman of my own means, Kendrew Campbell. I am not your wife yet. I will do as I damn well please!" Well, well, she'd sure picked up more than demeanor from the women! (d)
Kendrew: "Oh, is tha' so then? You are my intended, aren't ye nay?" He said to the woman in some state of rebellion. Leading Malta from his stall he gave the side of his neck a pat. Tossing his head, the horse seemed to say, Such trouble! Glad to be gelded! He hadn't the urge to prance in the fields on behalf of any philies so if only Kendrew hadn't been reawakened to the idea, life would have been grand! As it was, he countered her statement with: "And just what horse do you plan to ride on, M'lady" He bowed as he came to the middle of the stables, looking down upon her with an arched brow of his own. "Good day." He sneered - muttering some intelligable curses (for that was what his Gaelic knowledge was best at) before riding out towards the doors. (d)
Liliana: Oh, he was in a mood! Rolling her eyes, muttering curses of her own, Liliana realized that he had a point. Finally it was decided- she would bloody walk! A firm nod of head was given, so hard it made her braid thump against back,she set off after him. A little walk in the fresh air never hurt anyone. He would eventually see that she would not stay and when he did...well...she'd give him a good smack upside the head! (d)
Kendrew: He was fit to be tied but had no time to quarrel with the creature who's poison against sense thumped hard in the heart under the fine swell of breasts she had! Gah. Malta seemed to be happy to be rid of the tension and only concerened with the chance to stretch is legs on the road ahead. To mock them all the more the sun grew bright enough to burn away the mists of Autumn. A clear, cool day was procured for the enjoyment of the fit (or the disdain of the unapproving) that found the son of Dumfrieshire men a'cantering through the roads of Aberdeen along the walls. With open gates, he was near ready to pass under them when he noticed the lady on a constitution of her own! So he would ease on further in hopes that the steady canter he'd adopted would be enough to disuade her from coming farther! He'd not had this much trouble since his younger sister, Lara, wanted to follow him toward the tavern! (d)
Liliana There would be no dissuading her. Once her Father, when she was but a child, had told her that she had gained many traits from the Mother she had never met. One of them was stubbornness. As they moved toward the gates, a smile of friendliness curved her lips and a wave given to those walking by. It seemed as though she was just going on a daily stroll. Not following after the stubborn mule upon the fine horse! (d)
Kendrew: The cure for her troubles was going to make him sick was it? He didn't buck his heels against the flanks to cause him to gallop, but instead would pay salutation to the farmer, the wife. The child and peasent. A lord or lady as if this were all simply a normal ride in the woods just nearby! When a certain distance was cleared and the people less, it proved to be just them, God, and the woods. Turning about he glared at her, shutting his eyes as if to will the sight of her away! (d)
Liliana: "Good day," Nodding politely, warmth in tone and on face, to those they passed. As they progressed though it became clear that others would not be passing, for they were alone. Humming softly, as if enjoying the fine day, Liliana glanced around to take in the scenery. When Kendrew glanced back? All he'd receive was a wave of hand as if all was well, but her eyes spoke volumes. Don't think I will go away, Kendrew. I will follow you to the ends of this earth!And when I catch you...I'm going to thump you a good one! (d)
Kendrew "Of all the things to take you for, m'lady, blatant fool was never one of them. Come. If we were home, I'd turn over your arse to the guard. But, as it is, we aren't." He offered her a hand with an expectation that she take it or find her way back. It was too far for him to return himself, for that would look too odd. Her feet would soon give way, and for resting they'd loose too much precious time. "Well come on!" As if it were his idea the entire time that she should be on horse back, he stared at her as if she were a child that had to be firmly scolded instead of the woman whom he made love to. Fingers beckoned, " Hasten. We need be on our way." (d)
Liliana: Finally the man saw reason! Taking the offered hand, she'd find assistance onto the horse's back. Placing a kiss to his cheek, to soothe, she'd murmur,"Aye, we do need make haste." If he thought her a fool? Fine. She could live with that. However, she did not think it possible to do that if she had stayed behind. (d)
Kendrew: Mumble, grumble went the Lowland Scott as he pulled his woman onto Malta's back. He needn't instruct her to hold fast to him for haste was indicative of the pace he intended to match. All the same? The kiss to his cheek made him grin (inward) though the outward expression was a roll of the eyes. "Ha!" He urged Malta on, and soon they were a piece of the wind. The wood seemed to whip by them in a frenzy of a colors that bled together, when Kendrew had a focus, he saw that through until the objective was completed. (d)
Liliana Smiling, chocolate eyes lit with amusement, she wrapped both arms tightly about his waist. "A man of brilliant ideas you are, Kendrew. I am lucky to be betrothed to you." Best way to soothe a man's ire? Praise. Falling quiet now asthe horse moved faster, Liliana leaned cheek against his back and watched the countryside fly by. (d)
Kendrew: She could pull from him anything she wanted, and damn her for it, too. The smile was coaxed up, small. A simple whisper, "Thanks." Did he know the path to be traveled? If so, he said nothing of their course to his constant companion. The green leaves had faded down to golden browns. Tawny reds broke the veil of one shade as if this were the sunset of the year. Bird song was growing less as they sought warmer climes to enchant with melody. He had witnessed the full turn of season 38 times, and on the verge over the thirty-ninth was when he felt his life begin. Kendrew was a man for whom thoughts came without much outward expression so it was no wonder he did not share with her his anger, his fear: He might lose this. Time, too, followed them. One hour to the next until several of them passed, enough to leave joints aching for want of relief. On the edge of the forests, a sleepy set of farms curved along a winding road. The best way to know was to ask the people at the heart of it (d)
Liliana: Though her bottom was not as used to riding as it once was, Liliana did not voice a single complaint. Did she yearn for a brief rest as they rode along? Aye. She did not ask for it though. And if offered? It'd be refused. When it came to such important matters the soreness of bottoms or achiness of joints paled until they seemed to not matter. Chocolate eyes took in each detail of the landscape, thinking it wondrous and magnificent. It distracted her from worries for their safety. (d)
Kendrew: He had spent years on his feet, years on a horse. He had spent years breaking his body but could take no time to figure if the hard military pace brused her thighs. If they hurt her, or the wind whipped in her eyesto make her cry. The landscape opened up to receive them as they eased down to the fields that had yet to be harvested. Fat stalks of grain produced seeds to fall down on the earth to grow for the next year, or would the line be scourged? He was concerned for the state of all things . Ease was not easy to come by when you slept with steel over your heart. "Woah Malta, woah." He muttered as the horse eased in to a slow walk. Doors opened to look at them, or paid no nevermind to the strangers. "Did ye come with the lot, me laird?" A wife with a baket of clean linens on her hip inquired of them (d)
Liliana: Luckily for Liliana she had the body of Kendrew in front of her. It successfully sheltered her from the winds and with cheek kept pressed to his back there were no tears. When I return to Skye I will approach the grumpy brother of Bess and request to be taught to ride..., an idle thought of the future. One to keep hope alive in her breast. As the horse began a gentle walk her head would lift from his back to take in the sight of the farms. It was the voice ofa woman though that had her glancing away, eyeing her curiously and with a friendly smile. (d)
Kendrew: I will love ye, you are the world of me.. the words were the actions to which he abided. In silence, his tall, stalwart body was pressed against an element on her behalf. Even now, he turned the horse about so it was his face the village woman encountered and not that of his betrothed. "Nay goodewife. I come on accord o' m'own. A business, but what lot do ye speak of.." Kendrew scrunched his face in the matter that suggested he did not comprehend. "Tha' lot there. On the edge o' the farms. Talk of some horrible happenings. Are ye of the King's men, maybe ye can make sense o' it." He had forgotten he wore his fine tunic. The chainmail shirt was over it, and a plate of steel overhis breast. Across his back? The leopard of the Bruce, a mantle with the insignia upon it. "Aye. Aye, I am. Show us." That was a command, though gently worded. He sighed enough to shake his body, as if to use this as voicefor the reason he wished his beloved had stayed behind. (d)
Liliana: Shielded from the eyes of the woman, Liliana listened intently to the words. It was easy to figure that Kendrew was of the King's men. His sigh made her squeeze his waist tighter, as if to say, All will be well, my love. Though she sent up a quiet prayer after that it would be. (d)
Kendrew: "Aye, M'Laird. Follow me, if you wish we can take your steed n' care for it, give you and your lady somewhat to drink. Ye look as if ye've ridden for some time." His eyes were focused souly on where she was walking for he had no care of what as said. They passed house after house. Firm lined, thatched roofs. Had Kendrew grown up in a place such as this? On a good, green country that he feared was no longer standing? T Beyond the last home - ash ridden, dirt covered souls. Some washed their feet of blood, others remained in their war torn array while supping on meager offering of bread. Stay, ye can not go on to Aberdeen. You won't make it! A woman shook her head, a man insisted We must go on! The King, he must know..." He threw his leg over so fast that when he landed the earth shook under him. "Tell the King wot? Wot is goin' on, old man?" Eyes looked up, hands reached out. He pulled Liliana down from the back of the bay. Help us! Are you an agent o' his majesty, tell him! The people clamoured around them as he bellowed. "Back! Get you back! One of you tell me!" (d)
Liliana Everything seemed beautiful, quiet at first as they rode through. Normal. It was not until they came past the last house that Liliana's ears picked up voices and eyes even more. When Kendrew dismounted so swiftly that she barely had time to relase him, she stared wide-eyed. These poor people. What had happened? Allowing him to assist her to the ground, gripping his arm to keep legs from caving until they had some strength, she glanced at him quietly. (d)
-- To Be Continued, Part II --
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Post by Lord Eamonn of Eohmark on Oct 7, 2008 1:15:23 GMT -6
&.HOMESTEAD STRIFE PT. 1 ----------------------- Eamonn had lost count of the days he had been back and forth from Turas Lan to his homestead in the Northern reaches of Skye. It took days to travel between the two cities, and those were days lost to him. Finally, it came down to the point of residing within the local tavern, paying for a room just up the steps and residing there until the matters at hand began to resolve themselves. But they were not. Things were only becoming far worse in the absence of both Duke and Duchess. How much power and sway could the clans of Skye hold for much longer? There was something about this man, Maubrey, that Eamonn detested greatly, even moreso because the man had dared to rob him of solid and reliable information. The man had prayed upon Eamonn’s ignorant mind of the matters at hand and convinced him otherwise that it was he that would become king and unify that which had been broken. However, he had not yet reached his goal, and would not if Eamonn could help it. Still, the horseman could only do so much within a given amount of time, and this was a matter that was becoming a direct threat to peace and stability of the Isle. But Eamonn was an enforcer of law and defender of people, yet with strict orders from the Lady of Skye to not harm Maubrey, and keep him alive. How he wanted to lop off that vile snake’s head and send it back to England in a basket. There was their leader, their messenger; with a message and promise of death those who dared to stem the freedom and liberty of the people of Skye! While he remained a son of foreign soil, his children, who were resting and residing within his capital in the care of maidens handpicked by his wife, were of Skye’s children, and for them he would fight. In their name, to see that they would dwell in a free nation, he would fight. That vile scum of a man. Unfortunately, he was left to roam and whisper his lies with that forked tongue, and that boiled Eamonn’s blood all the more. In his charge was made to defend the peoples of Skye, yet there was nothing that he could do…he could not destroy the beast that promised peace but uttered words of usurped dictatorship if ever he heard it. Beautiful words often lost their charm and promised ideals when whispered with a forked tongue and malicious eyes. Skye would have peace…when that bastard was dead and his head sent back as a reply to enslavement and oppression.
With the great horse helm tucked under an armoured arm, the tall Lord Marshal of Skye strolled into the tavern, a deep frown etched upon his dirt-smeared features. Damn that Maubrey…damn that man to the fiery lands of the Underworld. The soles of his boots struck the ground hard, and sparks of anger and pent rage flashed as he moved, rendering him a silent volcano ready to blow. Never before had he felt so powerless, never before had he felt so incapable of performing his duty. The very threat that endangered survival and peace was let free to walk about, spout out his false promises, and then not be expected to be punished. Storming pass the tables of silent patrons, who took one glance at the distressed Marshal and looked away quickly, Eamonn headed for the stairs, taking the incline two rises at a time with heavy footfalls until he reached the summit of the steps. Down the hall and to the left he walked, stalked, before a gloved hand grasped the handle of the door and flung it open. Such a force he used, the door flew open, groaning on its metal hinges, before slamming against the wall, causing the very room to shake even. As he stepped inside, Eamonn reached behind him, and grasping the side of the door blindly, he shoved it shut with a loud BAM. Oh he was angry, but that was simply but one of the emotions coursing dangerously through his body. Muscles shook under the layers he wore as he paced to and fro in the room, walking the floor as hazel eyes, flashing with green fire, glared heatedly at the floor. With a fitful outcry of emotions, Eamonn gripped the helm in his gloved hand, and threw the helm across the room violently. The pale horse tail whipped in the air as it sailed through the room, and crashed into the table, knocking the ceramic basin over and it too crashing to the floor, shattering. Even that physical vent did not seem to appease him or calm him. Once again, he began to roam the floor, pacing back and forth.
Aislin. How could she leave him like this? How could she just go off to a place where there was surely danger! He told her never to do this to him…to never go where he could not follow her, and already once before he was merciful and let her sail on that ship to expand her knowledge. This was not it. This was not the same. Aislin was putting herself in danger, the sort of danger he tried so hard to keep her from. Was it all for naught? Why? Eamonn did not understand. But once against Aislin LEFT him. She left him when he needed her most, to calm him down, to help teach him patience, to sooth his mind and explain the reason for what was happening. The person he trusted most was across the sea, away from him. Eamonn could not abandon his duty as Marshal of the Isle, but yet he was forsaking his duty as husband and lover. Aislin…that wench. How could she leave him to such torment and misery! She left their children! Eamonn could not be near his two beautiful children and carry out the duty he was assigned by the Duchess. So, he had to rely on the help of nurses because Aislin had to see, to be in the fray. Had she not enough before? Fearing for her safety, Eamonn frowned deeply again and snatched the gloves from his long hands, sending them too across the room with another roar. His love…in the jaws of uncertain danger, and he could not save her from it. If she died…he would never know what became of her…she could share the fate of his mother, dead at the hands of the sea…or worse. How he mourned her absence. Tears of frustration and sorrow stung his eyes cruelly, but he forbade them to plummet. He would not cry now. His sister was across the water as well, and though she had her husband—who seemed all the more foolish in his thinking—and Kendrew, that was still uncertain safety that he could not see. His heart was torn by conflicting emotions, but he had a duty…and that was here in Skye, to defend the people form that hideous monster Maubrey and protect all that Bess and Adam had worked so hard for. Skye would not fall while he still drew breath…but Eamonn was losing more and more members of his household…his family was all he had now, two children, a wife, and a sister…two of which were in the wolf’s jaws and only the gods knew when their life would be ended. Powerless…helpless, Eamonn reached for the chair and lifting it with one hand, he launched it with such force that the wooden structure shattered, pieces of the chair flying this way and that with a loud and heavy BANG. CLATTER.
Aislin…come home! Bess…return to your people and save them from the serpent that slithered about! Sighing roughly, Eamonn paced to the window and stared out into the city, to the treeline where the sun was dipping down and vanishing behind.
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Post by strongjustice on Oct 7, 2008 11:34:05 GMT -6
“God be damned… that boy is everywhere!!!” William pounded the table of his room in the Blue Castle… “That son of a sick swine has me cornered everywhere I go… an ear to everyone I speak with!!!” now the rage of William Maubrey was taken upon the room where he was virtually held captive… “T’will be that General who is my first target…” as William knocked over a table, spilling the plate and glasses to the floor…
William not only HATED Eamonn… but respected Eamonn’s diligence… he loved his tenacity… He yearned to have such men in his army… but it was this diligence that was William’s bane… At least Anwen would be free to roam about… He hoped she was making headway with Lord Robertson… even if she had to bed the son of a bytch… THAT made William choke, but if that was what it would take to bring the Robertson's to side with him... he would sacrifice ALL to bring Skye… and the Aberdeen’s… to their knees in supplication to him…
It was then that there was a light tap upon the door… Outside was one of William’s spies… With the opening of the door, the small lad slipped in side… and dropping to one knee… “M’Lord… I have news of the Aberdeens…” William stopped in mid-pace and turns to look… “Yes…go on…” With eyes down… the lad spoke of Robert's arrest of the Duke, Duchess, and other key people, the riots in the Scot King’s city, and Skye’s attempt of a coup… followed by William’s evil smirk and a hand to the lad’s shoulder… “Good… continue boy…” The lad smiled, his face still down… “They are to be put to death M’Lord… but Lord Statham is no where to be found… and the satchel is missing…” One expression lead to another as news shifted from good to bad…
William was so angered that he restarined an outburst and only supplied a mere flick of the wrist that sent the boy away… then before the last glimpse of the door closed… “Wait… send Alfred to me immiediately…” The lad bowed, “Aye M’Lord…” then quickly closed the door and the lad disappeared…
William paced the room like a caged tiger yearning freedom… silent curses accompanied each thought process… “If I kill the General, then I would have eliminated a major stumbling block… I should even kill his family…!! But wait William…” he muttered… “If I was to have them killed… and miss him… then I would have a man, hellbent upon revenge, with no holds barred… nay that shall not do…” he continued to pace, looking at himself in the mirror with each pass… as if to have a discussion with himself… “No… to his family harmed… yes, to eliminating that pesky flea-bitten General…” he saw himself pointing at the image in the mirror… then the wicked smirk crossed his face… “Then when young Aberdeen gets back… he shall live under the shadow of the arrow…” then he chuckled… “then once Skye and Scotland are mine… the families shall provide my amusement… All Scots and French shall be slaves…” then he broke into laughter…
Just then, a soft rap upon the door… “Enter…” William proclaimed… Then as the door opened… Alfred entered… a small man, about 5 foot six inches tall, with bulging arms, and thighs under a flowing robe, one hand with only three fingers… to see him no one would think him an assassin… “Milord… yu sent fo me?” he drops to one knee, head down, his hand at his belt…
“Aye Alfred my friend… I have use of yer services…” then he takes a pouch from the desk… “The usual I presume…” The kneeling man never looks up… “Aye milord… what is thy command?” William smirks and walks behind the man and leans over him… whispering in his ear… “The Lord General Eamonn of Sevenwaters…” The man smirks… “Aye milord… yu grace me with a chance for redemption…” William laughs… “Yu paid dearly for missing last time in Inverness… can yu afford two more fingers for such a mistake?” The assassin shakes his head… “I shall do what I am commanded… shall I perform the usual and send his family to the promised land?” William shook his head… “Nay… save them for the slave chains…”
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Post by mikhailpetrov on Oct 7, 2008 12:46:35 GMT -6
[Turas Lan] A moment of peace, a moment of observation, that was what filled Mikhail's days. Plans of future business circled about his mind. Even when he slept at night, bed warmed by any whore he could find, the wheels never stopped turning. Here it was where he'd found two wives and he'd never done so much as step foot on the soil. Two wives, sisters, gained from Portree. Such lovely women with their soft skin and blonde hair. It had been like...a blessing. To gain such beauty from these lands and he had never been tempted to step foot on it.
Now though, he understood. Daily as he strolled the streets of Turas Lan his eyes were opened to every detail of greatness to be found here. His thoughts though wandered to the women...
Chantal had been a wonderful bride, gentle and well-behaved, a boon to his business, and he had loved her attention. It was the children that he did not love- children he believed were not truly his- and he had wanted them dead. It had not been hard to arrange to have them killed...and it should have went as planned if the heathen bastard hadn't let his prick take control.
When Chantal came back, when she returned, those bastard children with her and a heathen one to boot!, he'd been furious. It'd ruined his marriage, made his new wife Lareena, who he'd beat into behaving him and never betraying him...and his son- Camden- leave him. LEAVE HIM. If it wasn't for her brothers, for the distance put between them, he'd have hired an assassin to take them all out.
Yet, now, here...perhaps that could be achieved. Take out Chantal, the bastards..including the one she carried..., his traitorous Lareena and her children, and every single member of the damn Rose family. These thoughts brought a black smile to his firm lips as he downed the rest of his ale and went off to see what business he should be about today.
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